Taking Time

I've had a crazy week of writing. I didn't write each day but on the days I wrote, I wrote about 1000 words, and one day, nearly double that. So, while I wish I'd done it every day, I'm not disappointed with my progress.

Somewhere this week I mentioned that I had an epiphany of sorts when I looked at my overall word count. I'm at just over 57,000. That's not actually a novel length work. In fact, it is barely a novella.  I still need roughly another 70,000 words in the draft. That revelation had an unexpected and unusual effect on me. I felt relief and exhilaration. I know I have a nearly complete story arc and that alone is exciting, but I also know there is so much more I need to say to tell the story and to realize that I had another 70K words to do it was . . . well, that was awesome.

There are, of course, wrenches in the works. I only worked two days this week but I've been fighting fatigue. Some of you will now that I'm now using a CPAP machine for my sleep apnea. It works most nights quite well but this week has been a mixed bag. For some reason, I've been getting plenty of hours sleep but I'm still feeling extremely sleepy. Yesterday, I came home and got in the recliner and slept for about 3 hours ... like a rock. I didn't feel better when I woke up. I experienced the wobbly drunkenness that I suspect is fibromyalgia. Sleep apnea and fibro produce some of the same symptoms. Brain fog, unsteadiness, and severe fatigue are symptoms of both. Today, I'm still fatigued but not as severely as I have been the last five days.

Naturally, very little gets done during these times. I began sorting 10 days of laundry today. I managed to put some of it away before my back simply rebelled. I just can't stand next to the bed to sort laundry and sitting isn't much better. I have to get up and down to hang items. So, today, I sorted items that go on hangers from items that go into drawers. I put the drawer stuff away. I'm left with hanger things and I divided those between my stuff and Sarah's. I can't go to bed tonight until I clear my bed. I have three loads of sheets and towels in the living room.

I keep saying I'll watch television and fold them but I am trying to finish Felicia's throw by the end of the month so I've crocheted instead of folding clothes. They mock me from their chairs. I laugh at their calamity.

I haven't digressed from my point. Really. I have these health problems. I didn't ask for them. I can't change them. They're running my life, like it or not. So, I've started being nicer to myself about the writing. I reminded myself that this is something I love to do and beating myself up about not doing it is robbing me of the joy of it. So, I've given myself permission to write as little or as much as I can, when I can, and be proud of what I can. I can't fix me, but I can fix how I handle it.

The other thing I decided today is to put a stop to all my Facebook digressions. I spend too much time there of late and in playing a game online. When you don't feel well it is easy to just sit and scroll mindlessly on social media, reading every scrap of other people's lives and your own scrolls away with it. My writing suffers when I'm doing that but so does my life. Truth is, reading books is very hard these days. Concentration suffers and as a result so do other areas of my life. These diseases rob people of the things that make them happy.

I remembered my Site Blocker extension and turned it back on today. I've blocked out times when I can and can't be on Facebook and if I miss my time slots, well, I need to just get over it. They're very limited - noon - 3:30 and after 9 p.m. Sunday through Saturday. I did this last year and it did make a difference in the time I spent writing. Although, I can get on using my phone but I tend to spend less time on Facebook on my phone than I do on the computer.

My time is valuable and limited. I shouldn't waste what I have left on foolish pursuits while the things that define me are left behind. I may not be able to do some of the things I really want to do but I need to take time to do what I can and I need to be kinder to myself when I can't.

If your health has put you in a rut, remember ruts slope at either end. Walk out of it. Take your time but walk out of it.

Cherry Cart Living

It would be really nice if I could actually schedule my life. You know - work, writing, family, business, crochet, reading, RA flares, fibromyalgia flares, fatigue, sleep, etc.

I should make a chart. I like making charts. Maybe a real planner or my Google Calendar. It isn't as if I can't plan anything. Work gives me a schedule the week before. I already put that on the calendar, along with other appointments. So, writing time could be slotted in, crochet time, reading time.Today I spent the day paying bills, working on the bank account, figuring out where the money goes. No, I did not find the hole. And I got nothing else done. I still have to do the statements for January and February will be out this week.

Most of the stuff I do could be scheduled, of course, but I can't schedule the RA and fibromyalgia flares. I can't predict when the sleep apnea will disrupt my sleep, or the machine will give me a problem - both resulting in poor sleep and extreme fatigue the next day. No. These are the bumps in the road. They upset the apple cart. . . if you equate my life with an apple cart. Cherry cart? Yes, cherry cart. Cause it is also full of pits.

Sarah has been sick since last Thursday. A sick child makes a tired Mawmaw. She goes back to school tomorrow. I worked two days this week and will again tomorrow. The rest of the time, I alternated between joint pain and exhaustion. On Tuesday, I worked a 4 hr shift and thought I'd die before I got out of there. I was so tired. In fact, I spent several evenings just sitting and crocheting a throw while I watched television. Gradually, I'm getting back on track with sleep but it takes a few days to get my brain sorted and it seemed a more intelligent decision today to do the checkbook and pay bills. Just so they don't turn off the lights, ya know? And that crocheted throw is coming along nicely.

All the writing I seemed to get done last week mocks me from a distance. I should have planned it, not left it to fate. So, Friday is upon me and no words to show for it. I'd be annoyed but I'm so tired that I really don't care.

And tomorrow is another day. Sarah will be in school and if I can stay awake long enough after I get off work, I might get some writing done. I'll only be working 2 days next week. Surely I can plot something.

I get so angry with myself for not writing. It doesn't matter why I didn't write. I didn't write. I should have written.

What kind of things interfer with your writing? 
Do you schedule writing time? What kind of things disrupt that?

Who's Counting?

I suppose I shouldn't be so excited but I wrote almost 500 words yesterday. When I realized this, it was exciting for some reason. They were 500 hard words. It took a while to get them on the page.

For the first time in weeks, weeks with no computers, weeks of guest, weeks of sickness, weeks of exhaustion, I was able to sit down and write 500 words.

I stared at the story for a while, reading and wondering how I was going to get out of the doldrums that I felt like I was in. Then, I simply started moving things around, adding things, clarifying things. I have the most complete NaNo novel ever and it is more like an edit but I've got to connect quite a few dots before that happens. I'm working on two story lines that have to converge soon and it is tedious but thanks to Scrivener's Collection features it is a bit easier to work with than it would be otherwise. So 500 words feels like a thousand.

Were they good words? Yes. The fact that they were words appearing on the screen, in a logical sequence that drew pictures in the brain makes them good words. The fact that it took me forever to get them on the page means they were hard words. 500 good hard words. Awesome.

Usually, I don't do a word count when I'm working like this. NaNo is really the only place I keep track. But I've decided to change things up a bit. I've been reading some really great writing books that have given me some new ideas to keep me moving forward and thinking differently about the story.  I read 2,000 to 10,000  before Christmas. Eye opening ideas on getting the most words in a shorter period of time. I've taken a few of her ideas to heart and they work. I want to read it again soon.

Currently, I'm reading Martha Alderson's Plot Whisperer. I bought this over Christmas as a gift to myself. This book is heavy. I wasn't sure I was going to like it but now I realize that there is so much good stuff in here that I have to read it twice. I'm making notes in the book as I go and once I'm done I want to go back and read it again, using the method to work on my story. I'm already thinking about it in the terms she uses but it is simply too detailed to jump into all at once. As a pantser, plotting isn't my strong point so I'm hoping Alderson's book will be a revelation to me. So far, I'm not disappointed.

I also have a third book on character development I got for Christmas I would like to start next. I don't have a problem with my characters. They're usually very well defined but one never knows too much.

I wish I could have written more than 500 words but they're great words.

A Writer's Chicken Salad

When I'm writing, I like foods I can munch easily. Once I get the muse talking I hate to shut her up just because I'm faint with hunger. I've had times when I was in the flow and gone without eating so long I became ill.

So, to appease this fickle daughter of Zeus, I try to find edibles I can access quickly, with minimum prep time so I can get back to work. It is easy to fall into a habit of reaching for unhealthy stuff.

Since I retired, I've tried to make changes in what I eat that won't mess up my lab numbers. I still grab junk food but I've started buying things that are better for me and fast. I like sandwiches for that reason but processed meat is not good for you.

I'm also limited on what meats I like. I like ham and salami but not turkey or baloney. My grocery store stocks a wonderful chicken salad but that thing cost the earth. Just a pound cost more than $8. That will buy lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant, including the drink and tip!

A few weeks ago, I needed something and after scrounging in the cabinets and refrigerator and finding nothing fit for mortals, I found Sarah's canned chicken. I never cared for canned chicken but I bought it because her other grandmother told me when Sarah is at her house, she loves to eat it.

So, I went back to the cabinets and fridge and scrounged some more, racking my brain trying to remember what they put in that wonderful salad at the supermarket and wondering if I had that in my larder. Turns out, I have better stuff than they used and it taste better than the store version. The important thing is that it's healthier than Reese Cups, and it's fast. I can be back to the desk in under 30 minutes.

And now, I'm sharing my receipt with you. Enjoy and get back to writing.

A Writer's Chicken Salad

Prep time: 15-20 minutes

Ingridents

1 12.5 oz (354 g) can *Great Value Chunk Chicken Breast-Or brand of your choice. (chop fine)
1/2 cup diced celery*
1/2 cup Ocean Spray Craisins*
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2-1/3 cup *Mayo or dressing of your choice (amt needed for desired consistency) 
Lettuce, I prefer a blend to enhance the flavor.
Favorite bread

Prep:
Mix well. Store in an airtight container. 
This will make about 4-5 sandwiches. 


* Notes:
*Chicken: I used Great Value Chunk Chicken Breast from Wal-mart but you can use the brand of your choice. Yes, it is still processed meat but without nitrates. You may find a healither version. You may use fresh grilled, roasted, or fried checken and shred it. I take a chopper and chop my canned chicken rather fine because I don't like chunks. It makes a smoother spread that way. I'm going to eventually try a Sam's Rotisserie chicken. Remember, if you're cooking, it adds to the time and expense.

*Celery: Don't worry about waste here. It stores amazingly! When you get your celery, take it apart, wash it thoroughly and dry it, and wrap it tightly in Reynolds Wrap (or a cheaper foil if you prefer). I mean really wrap it well. I use two sheets and press it all around the bundle. Now, store it in your crisper. It will keep for weeks. YES! It will. I've had the stalks in my fridge now for over three weeks and it still is fresh.

*Craisins: You can substitute red grapes for the Craisins. I like both but Craisins have their own health benefits.

*Mayo: You could substitute Ranch Dressing, Miracle Whip or something else. Don't use Lowfat anything.  They have a high sugar content.

Who Remembers?

I hear it all the time. Different voices but the same question. When are you going to publish a book? "I don't know."  I can't stop writing new things. Before I'm done with one, a new one presents itself.  I have notebooks of ideas that came and went as well as those novels.

Over the years, many things would interfere with writing but I never stopped, not really. Marriage, military, children, school, work, and now illness have all sown tares in my writing life. I do not regret these things at all. I have had a relatively wonderful life.

Now I'm retired, what every writer dreams of, and should be able to write as much as I want. Reality is seldom what you dream.  In my case, health has become a bigger hinderance than any of the others. I'm doing better these days but it has been difficult for a long time. This National Novel Writing Month I wrote what is probably the best story I've ever written. I've stunned by it and that just doesn't happen. However, the overwhelming task of finishing a book after you've been away from it for a while is hard to cope with, but I'm working on it. And the romance returns slowly.

Today, I picked up one of my favorite books. The Poems of Longfellow. It is a book long out of print that I bought at a used book shop that has since burned. I bought it to replace another copy given to me by my step-father when I was no more than 10 or 11 but lost in a move many years ago. That copy was old and had not been cared for as the covers and title page were gone when I got it. I read my favorite Longfellow poems over and over for many years until I lost it. When I found this copy in that bookstore it was like finding a long lost relative.

Today, I opened it up and the yellowed pages fell open to a poem I've never read. There are many in the book. Longfellow was prolific. Of course, I read the first poem I saw. It is about a French poet by the same name. I've never heard of Oliver Basselin. I've never read his poetry. Longfellow apparently knew of him. The poem spoke to me in an unexpected way.

Oliver Basselin
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In the Valley of the Vire
  Still is seen an ancient mill,
With its gables quaint and queer,
  And beneath the window-sill,
      On the stone,
      These words alone:
"Oliver Basselin lived here." 

Far above it, on the steep,
  Ruined stands the old Chateau;
Nothing but the donjon-keep
  Left for shelter or for show.
      Its vacant eyes
      Stare at the skies,
Stare at the valley green and deep. 

Once a convent, old and brown,
  Looked, but ah! it looks no more,
From the neighboring hillside down
  On the rushing and the roar
      Of the stream
      Whose sunny gleam
Cheers the little Norman town. 

In that darksome mill of stone,
  To the water's dash and din,
Careless, humble, and unknown,
  Sang the poet Basselin
      Songs that fill
      That ancient mill
With a splendor of its own. 

Never feeling of unrest
  Broke the pleasant dream he dreamed;
Only made to be his nest,
  All the lovely valley seemed;
      No desire
      Of soaring higher
Stirred or fluttered in his breast. 

True, his songs were not divine;
  Were not songs of that high art,
Which, as winds do in the pine,
  Find an answer in each heart;
      But the mirth
      Of this green earth
Laughed and revelled in his line. 

From the alehouse and the inn,
  Opening on the narrow street,
Came the loud, convivial din,
  Singing and applause of feet,
      The laughing lays
      That in those days
Sang the poet Basselin. 

In the castle, cased in steel,
  Knights, who fought at Agincourt,
Watched and waited, spur on heel;
  But the poet sang for sport
      Songs that rang
      Another clang,
Songs that lowlier hearts could feel. 

In the convent, clad in gray,
  Sat the monks in lonely cells,
Paced the cloisters, knelt to pray,
  And the poet heard their bells;
      But his rhymes
      Found other chimes,
Nearer to the earth than they. 

Gone are all the barons bold,
  Gone are all the knights and squires,
Gone the abbot stern and cold,
  And the brotherhood of friars;
      Not a name
      Remains to fame,
From those mouldering days of old! 

But the poet's memory here
  Of the landscape makes a part;
Like the river, swift and clear,
  Flows his song through many a heart;
      Haunting still
      That ancient mill,
In the Valley of the Vire.

I don't know that a stone will ever mark my residence for posterity. A book may never be on the shelves but I've shared my words with many people. So maybe someday, when the bookstores are burned, today's books are out of print, when the movie stars and politicians are all dead, maybe someone somewhere will remember my words.