I am currently wearing a pair of size 14 jeans. They fit perfectly. Last night, I was wearing a pair of size 18 jeans. They also fit perfectly. I have one pair of size 18s that literally fall off me (bummer, 'cause they were my favourite jeans...) and several pair of size 16s that are a little loose but not enough to cause me distress.
So what up with that???
Okay, I get vanity sizing. In case you don;t, that means that lots of companies have, um, rearranged the sizes of their lines so that you're actually buying a much bigger size than it says you are. For example, the last time I was the same weight as when I ordered those loose size 18s, I wore a size 22. So at the same actual size, I am now wearing a much smaller size number. Get that?
But what's with the 18/14 thing? That's two whole sizes difference and both pairs of jeans are from the same company. In fact, I bought these size 14s on a lark, not expecting to fit into them for some months yet! Yet here I am wearing them. They're my new favourites.
I don;t get women's clothes at all. Or how the size charts are actually supposed to help you. I mean, who has a size 44 boobs and a size 45 hips (I think that's the current measurements for a size 18 dress). I have a size 36 boobs now--all my expensive bras are way too big and that makes me angry because if this weight loss thing goes on much longer I'll have to replace them all! So I'm actually a size 12 on top, though I can make a 14 work since I like my clothes a bit loose. But what about those hips, huh? Mine are still a size 43, with a 32 inch waist which makes my lower half a size 16. I have three different sizes going on in one body here. Does anyone pick up on that? No. So if I buy a dress either the top is WAY too big or the hips are WAY too tight.
Who has this perfect figure we're talking about that all these sizes are based on? No One, that's who. Where do they find those perfect size 6 models? Dunno. Some women are just built like that, I guess, but not most of us.
And then there are the "Large Sizes" catalogs, which feature tents masquerading as dresses, most of them. Don;t get me started--oh look, I've already started. Some of these catalogs actually have fairly nice clothes at decent prices with okay quality. But it's like they don;t really expect large sized women to be active or want to do things like go camping or stuff like that so their jeans are usually flimsy and often their skirts and dresses are just the same. We're supposed to sit around at our desks typing blogs (ha ha) or doing secretarial work or, lord knows, even sit about the house watching soaps and eating bon bons so we can buy even more "plus-sized" clothing.
Oh well. I will never understand women's clothing. maybe the men do.
Friday, October 26, 2007
A Letter a Friend Wrote
I have this friend who recently found out that her 18-year old brother got his 16-year old girlfriend pregnant because her parents told her "that's the only way you;re going to get out of this house." So at 18 this boy has chosen to be a father and husband--they;re getting married in January.
Anyway, my friend wrote her brother a letter thatI think is right up there with the Kurt Vonnegut graduation speech and deserves to make the rounds of the internet until no onw knows where it originally came from. This is my part to make that happen.
My dearest little brother:
This is the closest thing you’ll ever get to a lecture from me. I’ve found long speeches tend to be wasted breath.
You’ve made the choice to become a father, and presumably a husband soon. The life you’re facing now is nothing like it is on TV. I know you want security that you didn’t have at Mom and Dad’s, but that doesn’t just happen because you’re away from them now. You have to make it happen.
Make education a priority. Learn from people who have lived their lives with some measure of success. Realize that just because you’re not following someone else’s bad example that you’re not going to find yourself in trouble.
Here are the things I can tell you about life. I admit these are all just my opinions.
1. Nothing is fair or just. Things that should fall into your lap don’t. But, every once in a while, you’re surprised by unexpected kindness. Just don’t make a habit of expecting someone to save your ass. If you live your life like you’re the only person who can save you, you make your life easier.
2. That said, don’t be afraid to ask for help. When you ask for help, though, be prepared to show how you’ve helped yourself. And when you can be of service to someone else, don’t let that chance pass you by. Being good to others not only is kind, but it also shows you you’re tougher and more valuable than you think.
3. A lot of times when you think you’ve got someone else fooled, you don’t. And even if you do, it’ll catch up to you sooner or later. So, it’s better to just be honest, even if you think it’ll make you look bad. Everyone makes mistakes. The trick is to not make them over and over again.
4. Don’t expect the person you’re in love with to always make you happy. Relationships work best with two happy, independent people who share their lives with each other rather than those who make the other person his or her life. That person won’t always be there – whether through choice, or sickness, or death.
5. Manage your money. I don’t do that very well myself, and it’s caused me more sickness and grief than anything I’ve ever experienced. You’ll find there are things you don’t want to spend money on – gas, car maintenance, house maintenance, your health – but investing in those things makes the rest of your life easier. Yes, it cuts into play money, but it’s better $30 here and $100 there than hundreds or thousands of dollars down the line.
6. Have friendships. You’ll find that friendship as an adult is much different than friendships you’ve had as a teenager. Eventually, your body starts telling you it’s time to stop partying. Do you want to hang around with people who don’t respect that and only want to be around you because you allow them to be high? Or, do you want to foster relationships with people who truly care about who you are and what you’re going through? Talk to Dad sometime about the people he thought were his friends. The minute he stopped drinking, those people who were at our house every weekend just stopped showing up. They didn’t want a friend, they wanted someone to tell them it was OK to be irresponsible.
7. Think about the person you want to be 10 years from now. Work toward being that person. If you can’t imagine that person, think about the person you want your son or daughter to see you as.
8. Remember, again, that you are your own person. That means taking time to do things you like to do, by yourself. Talk a walk in the woods. Go fishing.
9. Remember, too, that a successful relationship includes together time. That doesn’t mean watching a sappy chick flick or making her watch hunting shows and not talking to her. Go out. Watch the stars. Play some games together.
10. You can’t hear what someone else is saying if you’re yelling and screaming. The loudest just looks like the biggest asshole, not the winner of the argument.
11. What’s important to you? What interests you? What do you want to do as a vocation? Please don’t think you have to take a crappy job to just get by. That’s what mom and dad did, and they’re miserable. Be the kind of person you can respect. Find a job that makes you glad that you did the work.
12. Make taking care of yourself and your family a priority. That means not engaging in behavior that endangers yourself or your family. I know I personally have a “hands-off” attitude when it comes to recreational drugs, but the fact is: they’re illegal. If you get caught with an ounce of marijuana, you’re looking at a class A misdemeanor the first time. The next time is a felony. Felonies typically carry prison time and prohibit you from getting certain jobs or going into the military. Anything harder than marijuana, and you’re looking at an automatic felony.
13. Life is going to be full of unpleasant truths. You can’t conquer obstacles by ignoring them. You have to face them, plan for them and tackle them. Becoming a father and a husband sounds romantic, but there’s nothing easy about it – even if you’re rich. Parenthood is time-consuming and expensive. It’s also rewarding, but you have to appreciate what a hard job it is. Your child will get sick. So will your spouse. So will you. They might die sooner than you’d like. You might die sooner than they’d like.
14. Never take out your frustrations on your spouse or child.
15. Don’t take all the blame for something that isn’t all your fault.
16. Try to learn something new. Take up an instrument. Don’t let your mind become lazy.
17. Realize that Mom and Dad are just people. They’re not perfect, but they’re not your enemies either.
18. Don’t rely on Mom and Dad to rescue you or pay your bills.
19. Figure out where you stand on religion and politics. Realize that both these things are important in the scheme of the way the world works. Sure, they’re not as interesting as sports or who Britney Spears has slept with this week, but you better believe the people who run the world have a frightening grasp on those oh-so-boring topics. And while people are paying attention to cotton candy TV fluff that won’t mean anything in two years, those politicians and religious leaders are making decisions that affect you. They count on you not to pay attention.
20. Smart people know they don’t know everything. They also make it a point to try to learn what they don’t know. You’re a smart person, whether you want to believe it or not. It’s easy to be ignorant, but it’s also an unforgivable choice.
That’s it. You’re your own person now. Really, you always were.
Am I disappointed in some of the decisions you’ve made? Yes. Do I wish you would have waited to become a father? Yes. At 18, you should still be deciding who you are and who you want to be, and now you’re having to shape the life of a little baby.
I remember when you were born. I was hoping you’d turn into a ballet-loving, Nietzsche-reading intellectual. Instead, you turned out to be a boy.
I’m still your big sister. I’m here whenever you need advice. And while I can’t always promise I’ll tell you what you want to hear, I do promise to be respectful and listen to your opinions.
You know how to get in touch with me.
Love,
Sis
_________________
Anyway, my friend wrote her brother a letter thatI think is right up there with the Kurt Vonnegut graduation speech and deserves to make the rounds of the internet until no onw knows where it originally came from. This is my part to make that happen.
My dearest little brother:
This is the closest thing you’ll ever get to a lecture from me. I’ve found long speeches tend to be wasted breath.
You’ve made the choice to become a father, and presumably a husband soon. The life you’re facing now is nothing like it is on TV. I know you want security that you didn’t have at Mom and Dad’s, but that doesn’t just happen because you’re away from them now. You have to make it happen.
Make education a priority. Learn from people who have lived their lives with some measure of success. Realize that just because you’re not following someone else’s bad example that you’re not going to find yourself in trouble.
Here are the things I can tell you about life. I admit these are all just my opinions.
1. Nothing is fair or just. Things that should fall into your lap don’t. But, every once in a while, you’re surprised by unexpected kindness. Just don’t make a habit of expecting someone to save your ass. If you live your life like you’re the only person who can save you, you make your life easier.
2. That said, don’t be afraid to ask for help. When you ask for help, though, be prepared to show how you’ve helped yourself. And when you can be of service to someone else, don’t let that chance pass you by. Being good to others not only is kind, but it also shows you you’re tougher and more valuable than you think.
3. A lot of times when you think you’ve got someone else fooled, you don’t. And even if you do, it’ll catch up to you sooner or later. So, it’s better to just be honest, even if you think it’ll make you look bad. Everyone makes mistakes. The trick is to not make them over and over again.
4. Don’t expect the person you’re in love with to always make you happy. Relationships work best with two happy, independent people who share their lives with each other rather than those who make the other person his or her life. That person won’t always be there – whether through choice, or sickness, or death.
5. Manage your money. I don’t do that very well myself, and it’s caused me more sickness and grief than anything I’ve ever experienced. You’ll find there are things you don’t want to spend money on – gas, car maintenance, house maintenance, your health – but investing in those things makes the rest of your life easier. Yes, it cuts into play money, but it’s better $30 here and $100 there than hundreds or thousands of dollars down the line.
6. Have friendships. You’ll find that friendship as an adult is much different than friendships you’ve had as a teenager. Eventually, your body starts telling you it’s time to stop partying. Do you want to hang around with people who don’t respect that and only want to be around you because you allow them to be high? Or, do you want to foster relationships with people who truly care about who you are and what you’re going through? Talk to Dad sometime about the people he thought were his friends. The minute he stopped drinking, those people who were at our house every weekend just stopped showing up. They didn’t want a friend, they wanted someone to tell them it was OK to be irresponsible.
7. Think about the person you want to be 10 years from now. Work toward being that person. If you can’t imagine that person, think about the person you want your son or daughter to see you as.
8. Remember, again, that you are your own person. That means taking time to do things you like to do, by yourself. Talk a walk in the woods. Go fishing.
9. Remember, too, that a successful relationship includes together time. That doesn’t mean watching a sappy chick flick or making her watch hunting shows and not talking to her. Go out. Watch the stars. Play some games together.
10. You can’t hear what someone else is saying if you’re yelling and screaming. The loudest just looks like the biggest asshole, not the winner of the argument.
11. What’s important to you? What interests you? What do you want to do as a vocation? Please don’t think you have to take a crappy job to just get by. That’s what mom and dad did, and they’re miserable. Be the kind of person you can respect. Find a job that makes you glad that you did the work.
12. Make taking care of yourself and your family a priority. That means not engaging in behavior that endangers yourself or your family. I know I personally have a “hands-off” attitude when it comes to recreational drugs, but the fact is: they’re illegal. If you get caught with an ounce of marijuana, you’re looking at a class A misdemeanor the first time. The next time is a felony. Felonies typically carry prison time and prohibit you from getting certain jobs or going into the military. Anything harder than marijuana, and you’re looking at an automatic felony.
13. Life is going to be full of unpleasant truths. You can’t conquer obstacles by ignoring them. You have to face them, plan for them and tackle them. Becoming a father and a husband sounds romantic, but there’s nothing easy about it – even if you’re rich. Parenthood is time-consuming and expensive. It’s also rewarding, but you have to appreciate what a hard job it is. Your child will get sick. So will your spouse. So will you. They might die sooner than you’d like. You might die sooner than they’d like.
14. Never take out your frustrations on your spouse or child.
15. Don’t take all the blame for something that isn’t all your fault.
16. Try to learn something new. Take up an instrument. Don’t let your mind become lazy.
17. Realize that Mom and Dad are just people. They’re not perfect, but they’re not your enemies either.
18. Don’t rely on Mom and Dad to rescue you or pay your bills.
19. Figure out where you stand on religion and politics. Realize that both these things are important in the scheme of the way the world works. Sure, they’re not as interesting as sports or who Britney Spears has slept with this week, but you better believe the people who run the world have a frightening grasp on those oh-so-boring topics. And while people are paying attention to cotton candy TV fluff that won’t mean anything in two years, those politicians and religious leaders are making decisions that affect you. They count on you not to pay attention.
20. Smart people know they don’t know everything. They also make it a point to try to learn what they don’t know. You’re a smart person, whether you want to believe it or not. It’s easy to be ignorant, but it’s also an unforgivable choice.
That’s it. You’re your own person now. Really, you always were.
Am I disappointed in some of the decisions you’ve made? Yes. Do I wish you would have waited to become a father? Yes. At 18, you should still be deciding who you are and who you want to be, and now you’re having to shape the life of a little baby.
I remember when you were born. I was hoping you’d turn into a ballet-loving, Nietzsche-reading intellectual. Instead, you turned out to be a boy.
I’m still your big sister. I’m here whenever you need advice. And while I can’t always promise I’ll tell you what you want to hear, I do promise to be respectful and listen to your opinions.
You know how to get in touch with me.
Love,
Sis
_________________
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Giving a Cat a Bath
Is NOT something I would recommend under any circumstances. I used to have to bathe my cats regularly when we lived in flea country, but fortunately there are no fleas here so I thought I was out of it. Boy was I wrong. It turns out that Obsidian has Ringworm, which is actually a fungus, not a worm at all, and not only did I have to bathe him today, but I have had to redo al the laundry in the house and clean the entire house to eliminate the horrible infectious spores (this part is waiting until tomorrow).
Now you wouldn;t think it a big deal for a 200 lb man and a 180 lb woman to give a 4 lb kitten a bath. There you are mistaken. "Just put a screen over the sink," said the vet. They like to hold onto that. And some of them really get into it once you start scrubbing"o we dutifully found an old window screen, put it over the sink for him to cling to and went to work. He had to be lathered twice, once in shampoo and once in betadyne solution.
Well, Obi promptly destroyed the screen and started trying to climb up anything in the near vicinity to escape the water, in cluding me and my husband. He is obviously not one of those cats who "Gets into it" once you start scrubbing. I have the marks to prove it.
I don't actually know if we gave an effective enough bath to kill the ringworm spores on him, but after 15 minutes we had to give up. He was just so pitiful. But you know, during the whole process he didn;t make a sound.
And that's how it went to bathe our most mellow cat. Gods forbid any of the others come down with it! And I'm not looking forward to repeating the process with Obi, either.
PS--to Norman Traum wherever you are: Happy 40th birthday!
Now you wouldn;t think it a big deal for a 200 lb man and a 180 lb woman to give a 4 lb kitten a bath. There you are mistaken. "Just put a screen over the sink," said the vet. They like to hold onto that. And some of them really get into it once you start scrubbing"o we dutifully found an old window screen, put it over the sink for him to cling to and went to work. He had to be lathered twice, once in shampoo and once in betadyne solution.
Well, Obi promptly destroyed the screen and started trying to climb up anything in the near vicinity to escape the water, in cluding me and my husband. He is obviously not one of those cats who "Gets into it" once you start scrubbing. I have the marks to prove it.
I don't actually know if we gave an effective enough bath to kill the ringworm spores on him, but after 15 minutes we had to give up. He was just so pitiful. But you know, during the whole process he didn;t make a sound.
And that's how it went to bathe our most mellow cat. Gods forbid any of the others come down with it! And I'm not looking forward to repeating the process with Obi, either.
PS--to Norman Traum wherever you are: Happy 40th birthday!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Coffee and Cigarettes
yeah, Yeah, Yeah....that's what I've got right now.
It;s weds. night which is the night michael gets home late from school and I'm writing this becaue I don;t have anything better to do. But smoke and drink coffee.
Looked again at the first four pages of SMTtF and thought it sucked but fixed some things so now maybe it doesn;t suck too much.
the kids were absolute demons today and I don;t mean the good kind that Socrates had. Elvira about chewed my hand off trying to get to my turkey sandwich. She got a mouthful of it and wouldn't let go; I finally had to rip off a chunk and let her have it. Plus they were total spazzes all day. Except now. Now they're asleep and they look like little angels. Yeah right.
Haven't seen Gwion Bach all day.
Spaghetti for dinner again....
We're trying to refinanace our HE loan and I'm both scared they;re going to give us the money and scared they're not going to. I paid bills today and there's...well, not much left for the rest of the month and about $20 in our savings.
I think I'll play a game now.
This blog stinks.
It;s weds. night which is the night michael gets home late from school and I'm writing this becaue I don;t have anything better to do. But smoke and drink coffee.
Looked again at the first four pages of SMTtF and thought it sucked but fixed some things so now maybe it doesn;t suck too much.
the kids were absolute demons today and I don;t mean the good kind that Socrates had. Elvira about chewed my hand off trying to get to my turkey sandwich. She got a mouthful of it and wouldn't let go; I finally had to rip off a chunk and let her have it. Plus they were total spazzes all day. Except now. Now they're asleep and they look like little angels. Yeah right.
Haven't seen Gwion Bach all day.
Spaghetti for dinner again....
We're trying to refinanace our HE loan and I'm both scared they;re going to give us the money and scared they're not going to. I paid bills today and there's...well, not much left for the rest of the month and about $20 in our savings.
I think I'll play a game now.
This blog stinks.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
After Dinner
This is the time of night that I get depressed most often. Everything is done that needs doing: cooking, dishes, feeding the cats, cleaning (what little I do...), even writing is done for the day usually.
That's funny, I used to write at night quite a lot but now I don;t seem to have the get up and go for it after a certain time of night.
So there's nothing to occupy my time and mind. I used to read during these hours between dinner and bed, but I just haven;t wanted to read for the longest time. I'm halfway through Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon at the moment and I just can't make myself go on with it eventhough I'd like to--I like the story, I love her writing and characters. But when it comes to picking up the book I mostly find myself saying, "Errrggghh," and shoving it away. Just not interested.
Not interested in much of anything else, either. When I was depressed once before, a "Friend" kept telling me I needed a hobby. Well, I don't want to be doing something just to be doing it. I want something that interests me. I guess this blog is one of those things as I'm sometimes writing two a day now. I could take a hot bath for my aching muscles but that doesn;t interest me either.
I'm glad I;m out of the mixed state, but the depressive side of it isn;t much fun.
So I sit and I smoke and I play stupid computer games and hate myself for not having a life that involves being involved.
I need to go somewhere. I thought we were going to go down to the Texas Renaissance Festival to celebrate my birthday, but it looks like that's a no go since we can;t find a reliable pet sitter in the area and we just got three new kittens. I KNEW I shouldn;t have got kittens until after the trip, but I couldn;t resist the little buggers and I';m glad we did it. Still I need to GO SOMEWHERE. I'm tired of being at home all the time, afraid even to take a walk and get out of the house.
Sometime there's gooing to be a cure for this. I just wish it would come soon.
That's funny, I used to write at night quite a lot but now I don;t seem to have the get up and go for it after a certain time of night.
So there's nothing to occupy my time and mind. I used to read during these hours between dinner and bed, but I just haven;t wanted to read for the longest time. I'm halfway through Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon at the moment and I just can't make myself go on with it eventhough I'd like to--I like the story, I love her writing and characters. But when it comes to picking up the book I mostly find myself saying, "Errrggghh," and shoving it away. Just not interested.
Not interested in much of anything else, either. When I was depressed once before, a "Friend" kept telling me I needed a hobby. Well, I don't want to be doing something just to be doing it. I want something that interests me. I guess this blog is one of those things as I'm sometimes writing two a day now. I could take a hot bath for my aching muscles but that doesn;t interest me either.
I'm glad I;m out of the mixed state, but the depressive side of it isn;t much fun.
So I sit and I smoke and I play stupid computer games and hate myself for not having a life that involves being involved.
I need to go somewhere. I thought we were going to go down to the Texas Renaissance Festival to celebrate my birthday, but it looks like that's a no go since we can;t find a reliable pet sitter in the area and we just got three new kittens. I KNEW I shouldn;t have got kittens until after the trip, but I couldn;t resist the little buggers and I';m glad we did it. Still I need to GO SOMEWHERE. I'm tired of being at home all the time, afraid even to take a walk and get out of the house.
Sometime there's gooing to be a cure for this. I just wish it would come soon.
Thinking about Writing
Actually, I've been thinking about thinking about writing. I don;t wuite feel ready to go back to it yet--but then, do you ever? Once the initial excitedment of a story idea passes, does it ever come back?
For me it used to, but then, I'm a bit mental.
When I wrote the stories for Dragons of the Mind, I wrote a story a day--okay, some of the longer ones took me a couple days--but I was in that state of heightened excitement all the time. Was that just because I KNEW I was writing something for publication? Or was there some other source of inspiration driving me on? The theme of fairy tales, perhaps? I don;t know.
I felt so positive about that book and I can;t seem to get it into anyone's hands. In three years I've sold about 35 copies--not so good if you;re trying to attract the attention of a big publisher. But then, POD is like that. Now I;m glad that someone buys it when they do, but I no longer have dreams of selling a million copies and winning the world fanstasy award--which to be truly honest I really think I deserve. I wrote some of those stories because of the 14th edition of The Best of Fantasy and Horror and I think my stories are much better than some of those--not to be too humble or anything.
But anyway, thinking about thinking about writing...
You see, I really think I should buckle down and get going on She Moved Through the Faire. But something is keeping me from it. I have this horrible fear of it for some reason. Probably that I don;t have a great synopsis planned out for it: just some of the vaguest ideas after the first chapter. But I have an equal fear of that phone call. The one I'm expecting from Tor Books saying, "We're going to publish The Unquiet Grave; now about that sequel..." I don;t know why I feel so confident about this and so not confident at the same time--you know, I'm afraid to check the mail every day in case the rejection slip is in there! But really, I know it;s a good book and deserves to be published.
That brings me to the sequel. I mentioned it in my introductory letter and what do I have? Four measly pages. So I really think I should get going on it. I mean, I know what happens next at least for a little while, and my experience is once you get going, get over that proverbial fear of the blank page, the stuff just flows out. Sometimes it flows like jelly and sometimes like water, but it does flow. Yet all I can do is think about it. And it makes my stomach hurt, it really does.
I've read all the books and I've been to the conferences where they tell you that writing is like climbing a mountain: at first it's really pretty and it goes easily. Then you begin to get tired and the wildflowers don't look as bright anymore. Then you just want to sit down and rest your feet. But soon enough if you keep going you get past the last ridge and the view is so wonderful...
I feel like I've started this book in the middle of the mountain, the place where you just want to sit down and rest your feet. I need some motivation. Like, banal as it sounds, money or guarantees or something. Someone out there must want to know about Tipper and Caitlin and their further adventures. But I don't even know if anyone wants to hear about their first adventure together and that is a real stumbling block for me.
Writing is lonely. Think of this if you're thinkiing of quitting your day job. It's lonely and it often sucks and writing groups are not much help, sorry to say.
Or maybe I'm just a bit mental.
For me it used to, but then, I'm a bit mental.
When I wrote the stories for Dragons of the Mind, I wrote a story a day--okay, some of the longer ones took me a couple days--but I was in that state of heightened excitement all the time. Was that just because I KNEW I was writing something for publication? Or was there some other source of inspiration driving me on? The theme of fairy tales, perhaps? I don;t know.
I felt so positive about that book and I can;t seem to get it into anyone's hands. In three years I've sold about 35 copies--not so good if you;re trying to attract the attention of a big publisher. But then, POD is like that. Now I;m glad that someone buys it when they do, but I no longer have dreams of selling a million copies and winning the world fanstasy award--which to be truly honest I really think I deserve. I wrote some of those stories because of the 14th edition of The Best of Fantasy and Horror and I think my stories are much better than some of those--not to be too humble or anything.
But anyway, thinking about thinking about writing...
You see, I really think I should buckle down and get going on She Moved Through the Faire. But something is keeping me from it. I have this horrible fear of it for some reason. Probably that I don;t have a great synopsis planned out for it: just some of the vaguest ideas after the first chapter. But I have an equal fear of that phone call. The one I'm expecting from Tor Books saying, "We're going to publish The Unquiet Grave; now about that sequel..." I don;t know why I feel so confident about this and so not confident at the same time--you know, I'm afraid to check the mail every day in case the rejection slip is in there! But really, I know it;s a good book and deserves to be published.
That brings me to the sequel. I mentioned it in my introductory letter and what do I have? Four measly pages. So I really think I should get going on it. I mean, I know what happens next at least for a little while, and my experience is once you get going, get over that proverbial fear of the blank page, the stuff just flows out. Sometimes it flows like jelly and sometimes like water, but it does flow. Yet all I can do is think about it. And it makes my stomach hurt, it really does.
I've read all the books and I've been to the conferences where they tell you that writing is like climbing a mountain: at first it's really pretty and it goes easily. Then you begin to get tired and the wildflowers don't look as bright anymore. Then you just want to sit down and rest your feet. But soon enough if you keep going you get past the last ridge and the view is so wonderful...
I feel like I've started this book in the middle of the mountain, the place where you just want to sit down and rest your feet. I need some motivation. Like, banal as it sounds, money or guarantees or something. Someone out there must want to know about Tipper and Caitlin and their further adventures. But I don't even know if anyone wants to hear about their first adventure together and that is a real stumbling block for me.
Writing is lonely. Think of this if you're thinkiing of quitting your day job. It's lonely and it often sucks and writing groups are not much help, sorry to say.
Or maybe I'm just a bit mental.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Cold
It snowed in the night. When I got up it was still snowing, although it seems to be melting off now; I can hear big clumps of it falling off the roof.
I hate being cold. I don't like the snow much either. Both remind me of my childhood in Michigan and the High School where I went to be tortured every day. I can remember likeing the snow when I was very very small--playing in it for hours and coming in to hot chocolate while my wet snowsuit steamed over the old radiator in our old house. But later, snow and cold only meant grief.
The Science Wing in our school was the worst, I think. It was all glass leading down to a big ampitheatre and the science classrooms, and it was always freezing. There were study carrels there and I remember waiting for my few friends to arrive in the bitter cold, while other kids trouped in through the side doors, tracking whiteness in with them. Sometimes on particularly rowdy days boys would stage snowball fights in the Science Wing and it was best to stay out of the way.
The hallway leading down to the cafeteria was the second worst, because the caf faced a big glassed-in courtyard. There was a ramp leading down to the cafeteria and it was always wet with snow in the winter, like the nasty old ....what do you call 'ems from the floor of a car. Rubber mats. I hated riding in cars in the winter because of the dirty runnels of melt on those rubber mats. It made me feel unclean.
Our school was designed by some Japanese architects and you;d think they'd know better than to put so much glass in a place where the average winter temperature was under ten below with wind chill. But I guess they never got that.
Mostly snow reminds me of grief. Of walking around the school being jeered at by the other kids and called names for my size, my clothes, my friends...whatever. My brains. One time a girl rounded on me for no apparent reason and lit into me for thinking I was smarter than she was--which I was, MUCH SMARTER--and being a prig. I don;t think I ever did anything to deserve this treatment. I think she was just a mean person. But I don;t know.
We were weird, no doubt about that. I don;t think anyone else in our school had the impulse--or the guts, come to think of it--to stand in the middle of the science wing dancing to the Spamalot song from Monty python and the Holy Grail, for instance. Or to chant like medieval monks while bashing our heads with our schoolbooks. So we brought some of it on.
But did we bring it on because we were already warped and it didn't matter by then? I think so. By High School we had already been through so much torment that it seemed that nothing mattered anymore. Since grade school most of us had been social outcasts for no reason we could determine. Kids are cruel that way. They treat you like dirt and they never tell you why. I don't think they even know why, except that they can sense differerence and unless educated otherwise equate it with wrongness.
So I hate being cold. It always reminds me of those times. Even in April and May my school seemed cold enough to freeze the bones. But by that point, maybe the cold was only in my soul.
I hate being cold. I don't like the snow much either. Both remind me of my childhood in Michigan and the High School where I went to be tortured every day. I can remember likeing the snow when I was very very small--playing in it for hours and coming in to hot chocolate while my wet snowsuit steamed over the old radiator in our old house. But later, snow and cold only meant grief.
The Science Wing in our school was the worst, I think. It was all glass leading down to a big ampitheatre and the science classrooms, and it was always freezing. There were study carrels there and I remember waiting for my few friends to arrive in the bitter cold, while other kids trouped in through the side doors, tracking whiteness in with them. Sometimes on particularly rowdy days boys would stage snowball fights in the Science Wing and it was best to stay out of the way.
The hallway leading down to the cafeteria was the second worst, because the caf faced a big glassed-in courtyard. There was a ramp leading down to the cafeteria and it was always wet with snow in the winter, like the nasty old ....what do you call 'ems from the floor of a car. Rubber mats. I hated riding in cars in the winter because of the dirty runnels of melt on those rubber mats. It made me feel unclean.
Our school was designed by some Japanese architects and you;d think they'd know better than to put so much glass in a place where the average winter temperature was under ten below with wind chill. But I guess they never got that.
Mostly snow reminds me of grief. Of walking around the school being jeered at by the other kids and called names for my size, my clothes, my friends...whatever. My brains. One time a girl rounded on me for no apparent reason and lit into me for thinking I was smarter than she was--which I was, MUCH SMARTER--and being a prig. I don;t think I ever did anything to deserve this treatment. I think she was just a mean person. But I don;t know.
We were weird, no doubt about that. I don;t think anyone else in our school had the impulse--or the guts, come to think of it--to stand in the middle of the science wing dancing to the Spamalot song from Monty python and the Holy Grail, for instance. Or to chant like medieval monks while bashing our heads with our schoolbooks. So we brought some of it on.
But did we bring it on because we were already warped and it didn't matter by then? I think so. By High School we had already been through so much torment that it seemed that nothing mattered anymore. Since grade school most of us had been social outcasts for no reason we could determine. Kids are cruel that way. They treat you like dirt and they never tell you why. I don't think they even know why, except that they can sense differerence and unless educated otherwise equate it with wrongness.
So I hate being cold. It always reminds me of those times. Even in April and May my school seemed cold enough to freeze the bones. But by that point, maybe the cold was only in my soul.
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