Drug of Choice

Sure, my experience with drugs is fairly limited.  I’ve smoked pot, so I know what that’s like.  And I’ve gotten copious amounts of morphine and dilaudid due to my stomach condition, so I know what a temporary rush those can be.  Somewhere along the line, I stumbled across an article telling me that most people who have been on SSRIs for a long time cannot get the chemical high associated with most uppers and psychedelics.  So, that wiped all other curiosities off the table with the rationalization that trying anything else would be a risky waste of time and money.

However, there is one dragon I will chase until the day I die, and that is the writer’s high.

You’ve heard of a runner high, I’m sure, and I assume this is similar, though I don’t know because I only run if something Is chasing me.  I know it has something to do with a release of endorphins to the brain, but I’m not sure what triggers it all of the time.  But me, I’ve been getting high every day for the past week.

It happens when I finish writing a scene, and I edit it really quick.  I don’t do extensive edits during the first draft because the goal is just to get the words on the paper, but I will read it back and clean it up a little.  When I’m done, and I save it, and input my count on the NaNo website, I feel a rush come at me and the next thing you know I am literally dancing around the office because I can’t sit still.

I asked Twitter when they experience this, and folks said it happens once in a while, or when they finally publish.  Now, I know the publishing high, too, but this is different.  The publishing high is great because you can tell your family and friends about it and they get really happy for you, but the writer’s high is a little more personal.  I can’t very well call Kevin every time I write a scene and ask him to celebrate with me.  Instead, I celebrate alone, in my own little happy ways.

I wrote two scenes so far today, and both left me feeling on top of the world.  They weren’t even what I would consider good, they are just words on the paper, but that is enough for a first draft.  I am currently 5k away from my goal, and roughly 25k from the end of the novel, and I am dying to find out what the “completion high” will feel like again, especially with such a large work this time. 

Anyways, I don’t know about you, but I’m off to watch a parade and stuff my face with turkey.  Happy Thanksgiving!

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Constant Reader

WordPress recently informed me that my blog is getting a new follower practically every day, which is interesting.  I mean, this isn’t Twitter, where a few characters grab your attention and you hit that follow button.  You have to actually read my article to want to follow me, and most if not all of these followers are fellow bloggers.  I am starting to push the 350 mark, and these folks are from all over the globe, which I just think is so cool.  Like, I’ve had a reader in Malta for several years and I don’t know if it’s one person or a couple, but either way…Hello!!  I think about you all the time!

I do.  I think about my readers a lot.  And so…

Dear Constant Reader (as Steve would say,)

Hello again, friend.  I see you.  I see you each Monday and Thursday when my page views skyrocket and I get the little list of countries across the world that are reading my words.  I see you each week when I get my rundown report from WordPress, and it tells me how you found me or where you went, and if you liked what you saw.  I see you.  (But not like…in a creepy way.)

I have kept this blog for a few years now, maybe four I think, and I have been growing it in my head for so long, that it is beautiful to me that you would stop and give a portion of your day to my thoughts.  How selfless that is in its way, and how much it means to me. 

I can write books, and I can publish poems, and I can Facebook and tweet and TikTok, but I don’t get the love from there that I get from here.  I don’t have randoms stumbling across a post they connect with and then suddenly following me and devouring half my work in one sitting.  That only happens with my blogs, this one especially.  I have been keeping blogs for over 20 years now, and I have never seen the successes I have with this one.  That is because of you.

I write for you, in here.  Not for myself even, or any kind of notoriety at all, but because there is someone out there who likes what I have to say, or at the very least, wants to hear it; wants to listen.  I write conversationally here, because I feel I am conversing with you, doing this with you, not alone.  And I thank you for that.

Lately my posts are a little short, because I am going so hard on my novel right now, which is just swimming right along, but my blog is still the most important thing I write.  It is my soapbox that I pull out and stand on, it is my diary where I divulge my secrets, it is my old friend who knows me better than I know myself.  And you, constant reader…it would be nothing were it not for you.  So…thanks.

Always, Brigid

Autumn Housekeeping

Originally, I was going to do NaNo updates on Thursdays like I did the past two years, but then I realized I already wrote about it on Monday, and also that’s when it started, so if I cover it on Mondays, it makes more sense.

So, what am I supposed to write about today?

I could write about the mayoral election which resulted in Byron Brown declaring victory before the votes were counted, which really plays right into what I expect from that guy.  Can’t accept that primary loss but will jump right in and assume he’s the winner after a write-in campaign that has yet to be certified.  Whatever.  I can wait.

I could write about my stomach, which has been quite good lately, knock on wood.  I’ve been on a new pill for about a month and have had few problems and am both optimistic and waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Overall, I feel pretty good and am trying to do things like live a normal life and eat the occasional cheeseburger.

I could write about writing, of course, in the non-NaNo sense…but not much there.  Just the blog, and the weekly Patreon.  Oh!  I did get a TikTok and you can find me @hamneggs716 (of course.)  I will occasionally read poetry for you, if you’re interested.  Other than regular old promoting myself (which I can’t stand, but do admit I’m getting better at,) I’ve just been doing research and work on my NaNo WIP.  Which I will tell you about on Monday.

So, that leaves nothing else to write about, so I will say goodbye and go back to work on my book and maybe make a fresh pot of coffee.

Happy Thursday!

The Return of the Writer’s Lift

As some of you know, in 2018 I started my publication journey.  A tool I found useful in this endeavor was Twitter.  On Twitter, there is a hashtag: #WritingCommunity.  I started following folks who posted in this community, and most of the time it was very fruitful.  I made new friends, and it connected me to literally thousands of writers in every stage of development.  There were these things called “Writer’s Lifts” where everyone got to know each other and promoted their work a little.  Thing is, back then, those lifts were about making friends.  Now…it’s all about selling books.

Don’t get me wrong, I participate, particularly on Saturday as that is #ShamelssSelfPromoSaturday on Twitter.  I drop my link into some lifts and hope for a retweet or two.  I can confidently say I have sold a few books this way, but it’s not like it’s breaking the sales records.  It’s just a nice way to get your work to someone who otherwise might not find it.  So yes, I’m cool with promotional lifts.  However…

I’ve lost the connection.

I don’t KNOW my followers like I used to.  Yes, there are a great many more now than I had a couple of years ago, but I don’t feel the camaraderie like I used to.  We don’t chat.  We just hype each other’s stuff.  Again, don’t get me wrong, that’s cool…but I have no real writer friends.  I searched for such on Twitter, and I found some.  Two live in the area; a guy from the city who writes what he refers to as “dude lit,” and a blogger in the southern tier who has a garden I am envious of.  I often contemplate what it would be like to meet these folks, and have some sort of Algonquin roundtable writing discussion, but I’m an anxious human who has trouble stepping outside her comfort zone.  So online friendship it is.

Anyway, I was thinking about how Twitter used to be cool and decided I would see if it still could be.  I posted a Writers Lift, but I made rules.  Number one, you could not drop me a book link.  If you did, I deleted it.  Number two, you had to introduce yourself and tell us what you write or what you’re working on.  Third, you had to make a friend.

I got 188 replies.

188 people introduced themselves and their writing, and conversations broke out all over the place.  I tried to keep up but eventually had to mute the tweet when I got 35 notifications at once.  Many folks thanked me for this “new spin” on a lift, which made me chuckle because really, I’m just bringing back the old-school jams.  One person gave me an idea for another kind of lift, where we praise OTHER author’s work, not our own, which I think I may try out sometime this week.  A woman in Greece emailed me and told me she liked one of my poems, and asked if she could translate it to Greek and publish it in her lit mag.  I agreed, and you can find it HERE.  Someone else emailed me and told me that they read my excerpts on Amazon and immediately bought the book.  Others talked to me about their writing endeavors.  Overall, it was a very productive little tweet for me, and I really hope it was for others too.

A lot of the crap I see on Twitter now is people trying to up their engagement with ads and random questions and the like.  Me, I have always kept my tweets either about writing or observations from life, and I try to keep the selling of myself to a minimum.  Not that I don’t, because I’m an indie author and that’s part of the job description, but I’d rather read “real” stuff, if you know what I mean.  I’d rather you tweet about the sandwich you had for lunch than see another post that starts with “now available on Amazon…”

I mean…yeah, I’m guilty.  But I’m trying to do other things, too.  Got to keep it fresh, y’know?

So my finding in this little experiment is that people actually do want to connect on Twitter still, it just seems to be a little harder somehow than it was 2 years ago.  Perhaps it’s the algorithm, which has totally screwed me more than once, but overall, I think it’s just that we have lost touch with each other.  I don’t like that, and I won’t do that.  I won’t succumb.  My

DMs are always open to fellow creators.  I am always down to chat about the business of words, and all I really want is a few folks who feel the same.

Blog-Sick

Some mornings it’s really hard to write because I don’t feel good physically.  Other days, I don’t feel good mentally.  Today I feel ok on both fronts, but my creative flow isn’t there so much…I don’t have any ideas springing from my fingertips right now.  This weekend was hard.  The kids were here and I was sick and I hate when that happens, and everything got cancelled or delayed in some way.  Then I find myself here on a Monday, already behind scheduled, trying to peck out a blog when really, I don’t feel like it.

But I’m not sick and I’m not depressed so I have no earthly reason to put off all I’ve to do, and so I pull out one of my favorite old coping mechanisms, “the Chandler.”

As a kid, Friends was one of my favorite TV shows.  When Monica and Chandler were getting married, he had a full-on freak out and went and hid in his office.  Ross found him there, and convinced him to get on with his day one step at a time.  “All you gotta do is go home and take a shower,” he said.  So, Chandler did.  Then, “all you have to do is put on your tux,” and so on and so forth.  I pull out this trick when I am feeling especially overwhelmed.

So, this morning, I said “all you gotta do is get dressed.” And I did.  “All you gotta do is get some coffee.”  So, I did.  “All you gotta do is get to the office.”  Here I am.

But then comes the writing, and there goes the brain, fritzing out on me so that I’m staring at the ceiling and wondering where that cobweb came from.

Other things I have to do today include cleaning and showering and updating my Patreon and sending out submissions and honestly, I would rather be there than here.  My blog may feel a little neglected, but my heart just isn’t in it.

I was musing to Mark what I should write about and he said “Why don’t you write about how hard it is to blog sometimes” and I thought nah…been there, wrote that.  Alas, here I am again, with the struggle.  Of course there’s that slight fear that it’s an oncoming block, but I am confident it’s just a lazy blog day.  Anyhoo…happy Monday, folks.

Ramble

My stomach is the worst!

I really thought that by this point I wouldn’t be writing about it anymore.  At least, less  At least, it wouldn’t be throwing me flareups that wipe out whole days of my life every so often. 

I planned to go to my first musical event this past weekend…a cover band of a group I love, at my favorite bar.  Did I make it?  No, of course not.  Why, oh why, would my pyloric muscle ever allow such things?!  FUN?! NEVER!!

So, after feeling salty about that all day on Sunday, I woke up feeling a little better this morning, but also tired of worrying about my health.  However, I am making major health strides despite my stupid stomach.  For one, my sciatica is much improved due to the exercises I have been doing.  And speaking of exercise and diet related things, I am officially the thinnest I have ever been in my entire life.  I don’t suggest my diet of protein shakes and jello, but hey, it got results, I guess.  I do indeed fit into that bathing suit I mentioned some months ago.  That’s a nice thing.

I mean, I really still don’t give a crap about my weight but it’s nice to accomplish a goal, y’know?

And then the other health thing, in which I attempt to quit smoking.  Again.  They say the average smoker quits seven times before the big one…if that’s so I’m plugging along on attempt number five right now.  Hopefully it’s a good, long run.  In the meantime, I’m on the patch and having crazy dreams.  No, don’t tell me to take it off at night…I often wake up in the night wanting a smoke, so I have to keep it on then,  The dreams are actually mostly fun, not scary or anything, but the realism is something of a brain tease.

So, I’m losing weight and quitting smoking and still my stomach insists on behaving the way it does every time I try to do something fun.  One doc says it’s a fluke.  Another doc says it takes time for it to heal.  I don’t think either of them know what they’re talking about anymore.

I’m sitting in my desk with a pain in my shoulder as I type because I am simply not used to sitting at my desk and typing, as I have been away from the writing for so long.  My blog is in shambles, my poetry practically nonexistent, and while I did drop 350 words in the WIP the other day, that’s it for months now.  But this morning I found a poem.

Just a little something about a fish that I wrote while out one afternoon and forgot about.  Just a note on my phone, that I polished up and put into pretty words and saved in my poetry file.  It gave me a little hope, much like the fishies I wrote the poem about do.

That’s what I need to do!  Go fishing.

Anyway…thanks for listening to my ramble today.  There wasn’t much else on the agenda and I just had to get all these little thoughts out of my mind.

Happy Monday.

Apologetic

Dear Blog,

I’m sorry.  I have been a terrible companion and I am here today asking for your forgiveness.  I have neglected you these past few weeks, and I am hoping I can make it up to you.  Do you want a domain name? I’ll save up, I swear.  Oh, but I know paltry gifts aren’t enough to win back your heart.

See, I was sick, and I became distant, and I am so sorry…I know it’s no excuse.  You know how much I love you, don’t you?

I loved you in 2001 when I sat in the computer lab at D’Youville College and signed up for Livejournal.  Our first platform, where we grew together over fourteen years!  I haven’t forgotten those early days, and I hope you haven’t either.  Now it’s 20 yeas later, and you’re still the one I take all my problems to.

Remember the time we tried to write every day for a year?  How naïve we were, pulling in to day 167 like we were on fire, then fizzling out on day 172.  But still, so many months we lasted, as my fingers danced over the keyboard and put my words into your mouth.

I love you so, my constant companion, my dear friend, my little soapbox.  Please forgive me.  I promise I will do better, try harder; I promise I will always be here for you. 

Well, on Mondays and Thursdays, at least.

Your best friend,

Brig

Nothing

What shall I blog about today?

The obvious choice is the election, until I looked at my calendar and realized I will be blogging about that next Monday.  Then I thought about writing about writing, of course.  But I recently wrote about Preptober and my future poetry path.  So, I figured I could write more specifically about NaNo, but then looked at the calendar again and realized I’m starting my weekly updates on that next Thursday, anyway.

I scrolled Twitter for a while, hoping to find an interesting question or topic.  Unfortunately, today is a PitMad event.  This is a complicated thing to explain but the basis is that you pitch your book via tweet to editors and agents.  So, my feed is clogged up with book ideas…some are great, but there’s not a lot of varying topics.

I could write about my weekend.  On Saturday, I took L fishing, and it was the first time we really hung out one-on-one.  At first, he seemed bored, but once we found some fish hiding under the dock, he got into it.  On the way home I mentioned an action scene in my novel that I am planning, and having some trouble with.  We spent the next hour or so discussing weapons, stealth tactics, armor, etc.  It was good bonding time, and it thrills me whenever the kiddos take an interest in my work.

On Sunday I woke, sick.  Off to the ER.  I don’t remember much…it’s all foggy.  I know that the intake nurse said “Hey, I heard you are an author” and I said “Yes I am!” and then threw up.  I don’t know how she knew that.

Bernie picked me up after a few hours and was told to take me home but then I found out that my people were all at my mom’s house: parents, husband, Kev, Sharon, and L.  So, I demanded she take me there.  She bought me a smoothie from McDonalds that I drank while everyone else ate chili, and then drove me home.  I think I may have dozed off at the table.

Today I feel good.  Healthy and happy and doing fine.  Except for I don’t know what to write about.

They say when you are in such a predicament, that you should write about exactly the dilemma: that you are stuck, or wordless.  This was my attempt to do that.  I don’t know that anything really came of it.  I do know that after today I am booked up on blog topics for the next couple of weeks, so that’s a satisfying feeling.  This?  This is just filler.

And as always, Happy Monday.

Words About Words

Literally the only thing on my mind today is writing.  So, I’m going to write about that.

There are three main things I work on daily.  One is my blog…I may not type it up until Monday or Thursday morning but I am thinking about it all week long.  I try to come up with a topic early so I can ponder it on non-blog days and have it ready to go when it’s time.  The problem lately is that I haven’t got much to say.  Sometimes 45 or someone does something utterly crazy and I want to write about that…though I often deter myself because I don’t want to give that man any more time in the spotlight than he deserves. Sometimes I will have a tale to tell about my weekend or the kiddos or Hubs.  Sometimes I will think about writing about my fishing expeditions, as I learn how to master the craft.  Most of the time, though, I have so many thoughts that it is hard to choose just one.

The second thing I contend with on a daily basis is my novel.  I will admit I have not touched it since December, and really need to get on that.  It’s in its 4^th draft.  I sent it to some folks to read but haven’t really gotten any feedback.  I am thinking screw it…just do another edit.  Add some stuff that you’ve made notes on in the past few months. Take out what you feel weird about.  Hope it’s still long enough, and then go find yourself a publisher!

Publishing, to me, is a slightly less daunting task than it was 2 months ago.  I know a novel is a whole other situation compared to a poetry collection, but I have a very “I did it before, I can do it again” mentality going. 

Finally, there’s poetry, my first true love. 

I haven’t written one in weeks.  Not for lack of trying, it’s just that I am not feeling that poetic inspiration right now.  Most of my daily poetry work has to do with hyping my book on Twitter and begging people to leave reviews.  My book, I hope, is doing well…three 5-star reviews in a month, which is nice.  I get my report at the beginning of July, and am realizing I’m more excited to see how many copies I sold than to get my check.  I just want my work out there.  Money is a secondary gift. 

Oh, but I did have FIVE poems published this week and you should definitely check them out here.

Anyhoo, next to my desk there is a table.  On that table is something my dad made me:  my first paycheck, framed, with the book cover in the background.  My final proof sits next to it.  I look at these items and remind myself that I can do this.  I have always had the talent, and now I have the drive, also.  My first collection is about how mental health has affected me over the past twenty years.  But the biggest thing it did was shut down my writing: long stretches of block due to meds that worked wrong…and that ever present voice whispering “You’re just not good enough.”

Now, I have slayed those demons, and while their injured voices still appear from time to time, I know I am stronger than they are, now.  The proof is in the proof.

Anyway, happy Monday.  And happy writing, to all those struggling with thier pens right now.  You can do it, too.

The Writing Routine

For the entire month of November, I was able to follow a strict writing routine.  Of course, I then went AWOL from the craft due to spending 30 days in the book bubble.  Then, the holidays.  Then, the stomach issues.  Now, I’m back, I’m here, I’m ready, but it isn’t.  It being the muse.

I have several ideas, mind you.  I have lots I could be working on, but nothing I want to work on.  Nothing is kicking me in the head, which is a prerequisite for me to get any real work done, aside from my blog, so here I am.  My blog is encouraging me to write about this, to write about anything, to just write, damnit, and something will come…or so they say.  I have a journal that I keep, and I have done some free typing there, but nothing is coming from it.  No characters pestering me to tell their story.

Lies, it’s all lies.  I have characters in my head all the time, they just aren’t giving up the ghost right now.  I have two characters waiting for their sweeping love story to be actualized.  I have a gang of ten imaginary folk waiting to overthrow a corrupt government.  I’ve got a little girl who wants out of the foster care system.  I’ve got a teddy bear with two or three more tales to tell.  But no one wants to come out and play.

So, I turn to poetry, which is my first love, and I started editing my stuff that I sent out this month because it feels a little flat in some spots.  I prepped my submissions for February.  I pecked out a sad little poem about the agony of forgiveness.  Then, the well was dry.

So back to the blogging board.  I figured I could get a jump on my posts, and store some up for sick days, but then the topics I thought of earlier evaporated.  I should have written them down right away, but I only manage to do that when I have a really good idea: not when it’s important pieces of information. 

Anyway, my writing routine was wonderful.  I would make my coffee and grab my phone and take the long commute to my office: three whole rooms away.  Then I would settle in, check Twitter and Facebook, and open my Word file.  And it was off to the races. 

Now I find myself staring at that little blinking cursor with fury.  It taunts me.

I’m going to go on Pinterest now and make character boards.  It’s literally the only thing I can think of to be creative today.  Then I’m going to hang out with the kiddos who don’t have school today, and maybe finally take down my Christmas tree.  All the while, hoping that the muse will strike.