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Cleaning House

~ Shara ~ Leave a comment

The idea of spring cleaning is quite common in our culture, yet there’s something more satisfying about cleaning at end of the year. It’s not that I’ve hunkered down and started scrubbing the house from top to bottom, but there’s a lot of things I’m trying to get wrapped up in order to get my head on right for the new year. As a result, I was inspired to go through my laptop and start REALLY cleaning up some files. I’ve never really re-organized everything in a very long time, and it’s overdue.

One of the worst culprits on my hard drive are my writing files and critique files. They’re all over the place, organized based on where I was when I was writing, or who I was writing for, who I was critiquing for. I started there, and got a lot done. There’s still plenty to clean up and organize, but that’s going to take a different day, a different frame of mind, because it requires me opening old files and figure out what the hell I was writing back then.

But outside of the writing-related files, I feel good. One of the things I’m really bad about is finding a webpage that I’m interested in reading, but don’t have time to, so I bookmark it to my desktop and never come back to it. Several of these will accumulate, and then I’d dump them in a folder, assuming I’d get to them later. Spoiler alert: I never get to them. Ever.

So it was good to go through and clean house, so to speak. I always feel like I have a lot to do for the New Year, be it resolutions or simply new states of mind. This year, I feel the pull more than ever for some kind of resolution, some kind of focus. That’s a separate post, however, and since today is my anniversary, I think I’ll stop “cleaning” and pay attention to my long-suffering husband, who really isn’t suffering: he’s playing Dragon Age: Inquisition instead. I think this means I get to read. 😉

Week #2: NaNoWriMo and the Nope

~ Shara ~ 3 Comments

Even if I wanted to, I can’t even begin to describe this week. I was talking to my grandmother last night, telling her about last week’s migraine, and the week before’s fighting of the cold, and combining that with THIS week, I feel like I should put on some umpire gear and yell, “Strike three! You’re out!” at whatever gnome or goblin that has jinxed me this week, last week, the week before, and this year over all.

I’m not the only one who feels this way: 2014 has been full of suck.

It’s an interesting thing though: I know I haven’t talked specifics about my personal life, and there’s some things that, no matter how open I may get on this blog, that I’m just not going to air to the public. But those things that happened earlier have prepared me, I feel, for the here and now. I’m a different person now that I was back in February, when I felt my life was draining through my fingers. I’m a stronger person now, which is good, because the events of this week have required it, and it’s still not over.

I know, I know: don’t you hate it when someone writes something, asking for prayers or clearly bemoaning their life, clearly indicating something is wrong but not telling you what it is? It feels like a cry for help. It feels like begging for attention. I’m doing neither of these things, and I’m not keeping secrets either: the people in my life who need to know absolutely know.

But I’m writing this in vague terms to say I’ve officially thrown in the towel for NaNoWriMo. I’d contemplated it over the weekend, after the week-long migraine subsided and I could legitimately focus on writing again. Yet, I couldn’t focus. And then something completely different started brewing on Monday, not related to my health at all, but my family. Monday was the warning, Tuesday was the tornado, Wednesday was the calm before the storm, and then Thursday dropped a bomb so big I’m still reeling from it, and since then, while telling myself and others, “Take one day at a time,” I’ve been dreading what that next day would bring.

This year, more than anything, has been a year of transition. And not just that, it’s a year that’s defining me. It’s a year that’s forcing me to focus on my fears, face them, and accept the fallout, whatever that may be. It’s forcing me to step up and that’s a scary thing.

And to put things in more specific terms, what’s happened this week has absolutely killed the writing brain. Not for good, just for NaNoWriMo. I have some thoughts about the few days I actually participated, how I felt about having to write nearly 1,700 words per day versus the way I normally write, but that’s a post for another day.

So for now, I’m gracefully bowing out. The migraine was one thing. This week has been an entirely different beast, one that colors the rest of the month, let alone the rest of the year. Trying to write to a deadline is just not going to happen right now.

And I’m okay with that.

Week #1: NaNoWriMo and the Week That Wasn’t

~ Shara ~ 7 Comments

It started innocently enough: Monday night writing session, sitting in a crap chair that encourages crap posture, a chair I’ve used since my freshman year of college 11 years ago and I’m surprised it hasn’t crippled me yet. That kind of crap chair.

On Tuesday, I felt the starting tension of a headache building at the base of my skull. Easy fix: grab a Coke, see if caffeine will knock it out. By time lunch was over, it was clear the full octane, liquid caffeine wouldn’t work, so I did the next best thing: took the generic form of Excedrin Tension Headache. Two pills.

Three hours pass and I arrive at my physical therapy session and the receptionist asks if I’m okay. I lie, say I’m fine, because it’s automatic and really, when someone asks you that question, they’re not really expecting a different answer, are they? Well, maybe in the medical and health-related field they actually do, but I keep the building headache to myself, get on the exercise bike, and work with my physical therapist and talk extensively about the crap chair and what to do about it.

Get to my car, take a prescription migraine pill. Generic form of Imitrex. One pill every two hours, maximum two pills a day. One pill should do it. Except it doesn’t. Driving home I realize I’m in a kind of trouble, because none, absolutely none of the medication I’ve taken that day has even come close to making a dent in this thing. I stop at a gas station, grab an emergency Coke, and when I get home, take my second and last dose in 24 hours of my prescription migraine medicine, hoping, just hoping, that this will do the trick.

I go to bed. Wake up at 4:30 am Wednesday. Still in pain.

Migraines used to be a different beast for me. Back in college, I would wake up with them, and I’d wake up vomiting. That particular migraine/trait/symptom is mostly history (used to be a monthly occurrence), and I get tiny headaches, the kind that lurk in the background and throb just enough to let you know they’re there, but not bad enough that you’re reaching for the first available pain medication. I also get bad headaches, the ones that make me debate between the Excedrin generics or the heavy-hitting prescriptions (it’s a debate, because I don’t want to starting overusing any one thing and make it less effective as a result). But by and large, if  headaches don’t make me vomit, I feel I’m functional.

I’ve not had a migraine that’s lasted longer than a day. Or, if I have, I’ve forgotten, and the circumstances were so completely different that it’s not even triggering the whole, “Oh, I’ve been here before,” feeling.

For the purpose of this entry, I’m blaming the craptastic chair. Truth be told, I honestly don’t know. In the past few weeks there’s been enough going on that’s different (I’ve made a list) that it could be any one of or any combination of those things.

In those wee hours of Wednesday morning, I gave up and took two generic Excedrin Migraines (only two in 24 hours allowed!). I feel asleep, and when I woke for work, the headache was on the way out. I grabbed my emergency Coke from the fridge, hoping the extra caffeine would drive it away completely, but I ended up taking a nap at lunch. When the timer went off and I was forced to return to a vertical position, I knew it was a very, very bad idea. But I did it anyway. After all, I only had four hours of work left. How bad could it be?

Bad enough that I finally gave up and went home at 3:15, after fighting to keep my head upright. Bad enough I called my doctor and asked for his advice on medication: I’d already taken my recommended dosage of the generic Imitrex. I’d already taken the recommended dosage of the generic Excedrin. What else could I do? He asked about my symptoms, the location of the pain, about what I’d taken and when, and called in two prescriptions: a new round of generic Imitrex (as the stuff I’d been taking had gone out of date in March. Ooops) for migraine, and generic Fioricet for tension headaches, which we both agreed was what this was. An aggressive, Hulk-sized tension headache, but a tension headache nonetheless.

I pick up the meds, get tips from the pharmacist on how to make those meds more effective (20 minutes soaking in a hot-as-humanly-tolerable bath with 4 lbs of Epsom salt). Pick up Thursday, until mid-afternoon, where I swear, in the span of 20 minutes, if left like someone grabbed the remote and turned up the pain levels back up to screaming. I wanted to pop my head like a zit. Powered through to 4:00, went home, made my list of WTF-is-causing-this-shit list, took my special bath, and then ended the night with the prescription dispersing in my system.

Today, Friday, was a day of goals: don’t ingest the things that might be exacerbating the pain (sugar, caffeine). Don’t take anything for the sinuses, even though the blockage is annoying as hell (and yet this isn’t a sinus headache). Keep taking the big guns through-out the day, because if the bugger comes roaring back like it has the past two days, it’s time to call the doctor and beg for a brain scan.

Fortunately, I did not have to call the doctor and beg for a brain scan. But headache’s still there. Lingering and waiting, shifting around and testing various locations in my head, like it’s trying to find a room just right. But because it’s Friday night, I’m debating taking another around of the big guns. I want to go to sleep, see what I wake up with, so I can get a feeling for how this sucker really operates, if it’s really on the way out like I hope. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I didn’t need to go home early today (stayed late, even!), and that is an accomplishment in and of itself.

Writing-wise: Tuesday yielded nothing. Wednesday yielded a couple hundred words that knocked me over 10K. Thursday I didn’t quite make the daily word count, and today, Friday, well, I need to get started. While I’m not in bad shape for NaNoWriMo, I’m also not where I want to be either, and I’m hoping the weekend affords me some time to get ahead, really ahead. I’m also hoping that this migraine, this tension headache on steroids, goes the hell away and stays the hell away.

Because this bastard has been here since lunch on Tuesday. Not off and on, but on, brighter and sharper at some times and dimmer at others. Friday’s been the best day since this started, and I hope that’s a sign that Saturday and Sunday will get better and better. I’m tired of having to say, “I was migraining yesterday,” in order to explain a lapse in attention, a screw up at work, a bumbling of words, or a plain fuck up (leaving the garage door open, forgetting to feed the cat twice). I’ve had to say it two days in a row, and that’s more than enough.

So let’s be optimistic: here’s to a migraine/tension headache-free weekend. Here’s to writing my heart out, eating delicious Chinese food with friends, and being blown away by the glory of Interstellar on IMAX. Please be awesome, Interstellar. Please be awesome.

A New Way to Chronicle Life

~ Shara ~ 4 Comments

Later this month, I’ll be spending An Evening with David Sedaris. I’ve been a fan of his thanks to his segments and stories on This American Life, and when I heard he was coming to town, I decided this was something I really, really wanted to see in person. But I haven’t read any of his books, and after learning how personable he is and how it’s likely I might get a chance for him to sign something before or after the show, I decided to pick up a few titles and brush up.

I’m almost finished with Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls: Essays, Etc.. I started with that over Me Talk Pretty One Day because, let’s face it, with a title like Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls, how can I not start there? I’ve been wanting to buy this book for the title alone for years. Well, months really. The book only came out last year.

The point of all this babbling was this little gem: in the essay titled, “Day In, Day Out,” Sedaris talks about how he became a frequent diarist: it starts out with a small notebook that’s always with him, where he writes various observations and notes about his day, and then either at the end of the day or the next morning (I wasn’t sure which), he compiles said observations and notes into a diary, one that he keeps electronically, something private. He talks about how a very small percent of his diaries end up as part of his books, or part of his shows, but that despite it all, keeping this diary, which he’s done for years, is something that’s a part of him. He can’t imagine life without it.

What struck me was the comments about the little notebook. I’m bad about having notes and observations of things I’d like to share or write about, scribbling them on sticky notes, and letting those sticky notes pile into stacks of potential confetti. And this little notebook idea… it’s appealing. Not because I want to sit down each and every night and write up my day. That would take a lot of dedicated time, and I’m by and large a fiction writer, not an essayist. That being said, some of my own observations would make for some, in my mind, interesting posts. Short posts, I would hope, and it could be something that could finally get the fuel going into posting regularly on this blog. Something I’ve been wanting to do since I’ve opened it, and I’ve tried to do with little success, but gotten bored with/distracted from/name your excuse.

But short, sweet, random observations about my day? Embracing the way I view the world in all its randomness? May not be a bad way to go.

I’m not going to sit here and say I’ll definitely do it. I will sit here, however, and say, don’t be surprised if I do.

Let’s go find a notebook.

Aventures In Traveling

~ Shara ~ Leave a comment

On Friday, I hit the road for a workshop weekend, and I just returned home today. It was, in short, a fantastic trip, and I’ve got some very reflective thoughts to share some day, but today is not that day.

Today is the day where I will amuse, amaze, and bewilder you:

1) My very first pit stop on Friday was at a rest area. I was about an hour and a half into driving when nature called, and I debated pulling off the interstate, thinking I could hold it for another 30-40 miles. I decided not to be cruel to my bladder, and did what I had to do. However, it was while answering nature’s call that I received a VERY IMPORTANT PHONE CALL from work. It was of the good news variety, but I’m also, yanno, indisposed. In the process of trying to figure out a way to keep background noise from leaking through the call, I manage to hang up on this very important person and couldn’t call back because it’s not a direct line. Fortunately, the very important person called back, and at this point, I was in far better shape to receive a call.

2) My second pit stop was at a Subway, and of course, in addition to eating, I also had to use the bathroom (I promise, not all of these are about the bathroom). Before I get up to toss the trash, a group of kids (young men, tall and skinny, probably high school/college-aged soccer players or cross-country runners) come in and line up at the counter. A smaller group of the guys head straight back to the bathroom, and when I went to the ladies room, the door unlocked right before I got there and a guy walked out. I figure, why not? Subway only has one toilet for men, one for women, and when you gotta go, you gotta go. However, my rather relaxed attitude evaporated when I saw the guy hadn’t flushed. I seriously, and honestly, do not understand why people don’t flush toilets, men or women. Is it because they’re the product of helicopter parents who do everything for them? If that’s the case, it’s a wonder this guy knew to wipe.

3) First night in the hotel, I decided to try out the heater, simply because I was alone in the room and I could make it as toasty as I wanted. Based on the burnt-toast smell coming from said heater, it was the first time it’d been turned on for the season. I wasn’t worried, because I knew that would go away, so I crawled back under the covers, just in time to hear the smoke alarm shriek bloody murder. At midnight. It’s a wonder the whole hotel didn’t wake up. The good news is I burned nothing down, got the heater fixed, and slept nice and toasty during my stay.

4) On my way home, I stopped at a Chick-Fil-A for lunch. I’ve yet to have bad customer service at this franchise, and today was above and beyond the call of good customer service. It’d just started to rain when I arrived, but while I was eating, the rain decided to level up to monsoon levels. Lots of wind, lots of hard rain. I wait for it to let up, pull up my hood and prepare myself for the sprint to my car, when one of the employees gestures to a stack of umbrellas by the door and offers to walk me to my car. And after determining the offer was indeed genuine, he did. I still got a bit wet (it’s really hard to stay dry when the wind makes the rain sideways), but I was a lot dyer than I would’ve been otherwise. Thanks, Chick-Fil-A!

And those are my random adventures from traveling this weekend, preserved here in the interwebs in case I ever forget.

Reading: Perdition by Ann Aguirre
Watching: Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Gotham, Sleepy Hollow

Robin Williams: 1951-2014

~ Shara ~ Leave a comment

My first R-rated movie in the theater was The Birdcage. The very first movie my husband and I saw together for a movie date was Patch Adams. We always think there’s something immortal about celebrities, especially those who play a part in our most prominent memories, and it’s terrifying to see them gone. It means that they’re only human, they’re fallible, and that one day they will fade. And it’s a terrible analogy to our own lives, on a host of levels. I know some people don’t get why there’s an outpouring of grief for one comedian when there’s so many terrible things happening in the world, but celebrities can represent so many parts of ourselves, and the good ones leave an indelible mark. Whatever Robin Williams meant to you in your life, in your memories, in your day-to-day, remember the most important lesson of all: Carpe diem. If he taught us anything, it’s that.

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In a World Just Right….

~ Shara ~ 2 Comments

You know what’s exciting? Book deals. Book deals are awesomely exciting. And no, I don’t have one, but I have the next best thing: my friend and critique partner Jen Brooks‘ debut novel, In a World Just Right is coming out next year, and there’s a cover and a giveaway too! You’ll forgive me for gushing a bit, won’t you?

First, the cover:

Continue reading →

Becoming the person you never thought you’d be….

~ Shara ~ 4 Comments

I admit: I’m quick to judge. Always have been. Time has taught me, however, to keep those judgments to myself, simply because I’m well aware that one day in the future, I might become the very thing I was judging all those years ago.

Case in point: when I attended the Odyssey Writing Workshop back in 2005, I was still very new to the SF/F/H genre of books and was ready to try anything that anyone said was any good. I felt that it was necessary, since as a reader, I wasn’t well-read in the genre, and also because as a writer, it was important to know what was being published.

So I boggled when some of my classmates admitted they didn’t read very many books a year, or that they rarely if ever read new-to-them authors, or that they only read their favorite authors, or that they could easily put a book down if it didn’t engage them.

Heresy! Don’t you know that every book, no matter how awful, can teach you something? How are you going to discover new and exciting voices and influences in fiction if you don’t try anyone new? How can you want to be a writer and not have your pulse on the industry?

Well, it’s safe to say, nearly ten years later, I get it.

It stated innocently enough: running my book blog meant I needed to keep a steady stream of book reviews available, and when I stumbled on something, — by that I mean something that bored me and/or was badly written, etc — I realized it was time to put the book aside so I could move onto bigger, better, more engaging books (and so I could keep reviewing at a regular pace).

But ever since closing the book blog last year, I’m surprised at how little time I have left for reading.

Sure, that time is taken up with other things: working out, writing (depending on the time of year and the project), and snuggling on the loveseat to catch up on must-see television shows/movies on Netflix/Hulu Plus/iTunes, hanging out with the husband, hanging out with family and friends. The drop in the number of books I read pre-closing versus post-closing was surprising, but that was last year.

This year, the drop is staggering. I went from reading 3-4 books per week during my reviewing days to 1-2 last year not reviewing to this year, where I’m lucky to finish a book I like by an author I adore in two weeks.

It’s staggering.

I know it’s because of this year. People who follow me on Facebook were startled when, two weeks ago, I posted:

Dear 2014: I’ve tried to take the high road and not say anything, but you’ve been a shitty year. Please, for the love of God, stop sucking, okay?

And I still mean that. It’s been the year of distractions, of stepping back and taking stock of my life: where it’s going, what I want, who I am, and who I want to be. I think I’m making progress, but there are those days that knock me so far back on my ass I’m wondering what the point of getting up is.

And there’s the bad news that keeps rolling in. People are dying who are too young to die. People who aren’t too young to die are dying and it still upsets me greatly. People are getting divorced, or having so much trouble in their marriage that it looks like divorce is just around the corner.

And that’s just the tip of an iceberg that’s made up of so much bad news from so many of my friends and family that I’m wondering what the hell is going on and when it’s going to stop.

Needless to say, I’ve not been in a good headspace. I’m having to re-teach myself to put aside time to read, because it’s something I enjoy. I’m having to reorder my brain and remind myself that I’m a writer with stories to tell and that sitting down to tell them is a good thing, and essential to my mental health. And yet all of that seems to clash with some of the other responsibilities thrust on me this year, and sometimes, it scares me.

But the point of this post isn’t begging for hugs or asking people to reach out or to make people wonder what’s wrong. Ultimately, what’s wrong is that the older you get, the more shit happens, and if not that, there’s still going to be more on your mental plate.

It’s no wonder I’m lacking the focus to read. Still, I can’t help but mourn, just a little, for that lost ability, especially in contrast to all the books in my physical TBR pile and on my wishlist that I want to read. But I do get it, now. Why people start getting pickier and pickier with the books they read, why they get more jaded. I’ve reached a point where I’m looking at the list of my favorite authors to note what they’re coming out with this year and realizing that I might have just reached the point where all I can read are the latest releases from the authors I love.

That’s amazing, in both a good and bad way. So here’s hoping I get my brain back.

Ban Bossy

~ Shara ~ 1 Comment

So there’s a campaign that’s caught my eye: BanBossy.com is sponsored by Lean In and the Girl Scouts of America, just to name a few, and its message is to promote leadership in young girls while educating the world about the double-standard that exists: boys aren’t bossy, they’re leaders. Girls aren’t leaders, they’re bossy. And that very message is something that silences girls through-out the years, and in some ways teaches them to be passive, though often disguised as teaching them to be polite.

It hits home.

I was definitely called bossy as a kid. But what I remember most about that isn’t the simply the fact I was called bossy (and nosey: those were the two main criticisms leveled at me during my formative years), but rather I remember the people who leveled the criticism at me, and those people were my friends.

Those people were girls.

I never realized how easily those labels held me back, mentally and socially and developmentally. Oh, I was certainly a leader when I was a youth, but I was a deferential one, always: I lacked the self-confidence to really stand for what I believed in because I didn’t want to be aggressive. I also didn’t want to be wrong.

And I remember those criticism, those labels, so clearly: they’re a thorn in the memory of my childhood, and as an adult, I can now fully recognize the power those words had on me: they, in short, shut me up. Because god-forbid I did something that made me less likable. I already felt like an outcast as a kid, so any criticism was taken to heart almost immediately: in order to be liked, I had to be normal. And normal wasn’t bossy. It wasn’t nosey or curious.

This campaign hits home because I wonder now, as an adult, how different I might be if not for those labels. While lately I’ve been working really hard to break my brain of the “What-If” game, I’m quite cognizant of the fact that my interactions with people, everyone from strangers to acquaintances to friends to loved ones, from readers of my blog over the years to my very own husband, are all based on my being able to accommodate, to put my needs aside, to feel like in order to be heard, I have to be super calm and rational and sweet. Don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing wrong with learning how to put other peoples’ needs before your own, so long as you know where the line is, so long as you know when you need to be number one. There’s nothing wrong knowing how to finesse an argument: there’s a time and place for anger, but it’s not always needed, nor is it always necessary to prove that you’re right.


But one of the things I’m realizing this year is that I’m at my most confident at work: I know my job, I know what I’m good at, and I have no trouble seeking help or second opinions when necessary. I’m direct and forthright because I’m an expert in my field, and while sometimes I have to “rounding the edges” a bit, that’s part of learning the art of compromise and finesse. I’m not perfect, but my role as a leader in the workplace is about learning when to lead and when to follow, when to be direct and when to be subtle, what to fight for and what to let go of.

Why I feel this way at work rather than other areas of my life is a story for another day, and probably not an interesting one. However, my point is this: how much braver would I be, right now, if I hadn’t grown up being afraid of being bossy? If curiosity hadn’t been ridiculed? If I hadn’t been taught that in order to succeed, I had to hold back?

Ban bossy. If I had daughters, I’d be right there with Jennifer Garner: I’d teach them to roar. In the meantime, I’ve got some catching up to do.

You can learn more about this campaign, and check out all of the awesome graphics, at BanBossy.com.

Be Brave

~ Shara ~ 4 Comments

We didn’t have senior quotes in the yearbook at my high school. There were, in short, just too many of us graduating, because I hailed from a large graduating class in a large high school. However, because I was co-editor of the yearbook my senior year, I got one page to design as I wanted, as a kind of send-off. I designed the page for a lot of pictures, and in the very center, I put in a quote.

I am not afraid of failure.
I am afraid of succeeding at something that does not matter.

I stole that quote from from the quote board at Volunteer Girl’s State back in the summer of 1998. I don’t remember who wrote the quote up there, and I don’t recall it being attributed to anyone. What I do remember is reading it for the first time, feeling it resonate in me with all the power of a church bell, and rushing to write it down immediately.

I thought, that is it. That’s how I’m going to live my life.

Looking back, over fifteen years later, I have to laugh at that quote, at the girl who took it so dearly to heart. It was an ideal to strive for, not a motto that encompassed everything she believed in at the time. Because truth be told, I’ve never been brave. Half of that quote is a lie.

Because I’m afraid of failure. I always have been. And I’m also afraid of success in any form, because no matter how well I do, there’s a part of me that feels it’s simply not deserved.

It’s called, by the way, imposter syndrome.

Last year, I started the “Me Project,” a project all about focusing on myself (naturally): it was about accepting myself for who I was and getting better at what I do. And on some level, I’ve done that. But it’s been a very passive experiment up until now. And now, thanks to 2014’s startling lessons, I realize that it’s time to stop being afraid. It’s time to stop being afraid of myself, of my interests, of change. It’s time to start admitting that yes, I do have issues, and some of those issues are deeper than I ever realized. It’s time to start admitting that yes, I do sometimes need help and that yes, it’s okay to ask for help instead of standing up as the stoic enigma that everyone else can rest their heads on. I can do both. I can be both.

It’s time to start being brave. And that’s not going to happen overnight. But it’s time to stop fearing rejection. It’s time to start embracing all aspects, elements, and people in my life, instead of trying to fit them into neat little categories. Like a kid separating all the items on her dinner plate: thou shall not touch!

I’m done. That’s over. It’s time to stop looking to the future, looking to some sort of ideal of having “arrived” and just being. Just living, and accepting that life is change. Some change is good, some change is bad, and some change is worth fighting for.

It’s time to be brave.