Rena Olsen

It all started with a tooth.

Hi. I’m a tooth.

No, stop, don’t click away. I’m being totally serious. Okay, mostly. Besides, this is that post that authors dream about getting to write, so sit down and ENJOY MY STORY.

Like I was saying. It all started with a tooth. Jenny the Tooth, to be more specific. Jenny the Tooth was the title character in my very first story, about an anthropomorphic tooth who escapes from her girl’s mouth and goes on an adventure through the school. I desperately wish I had a copy of that story. It won the state of Iowa writing contest for the third grade division, and I had to go to Des Moines and read it in front of 500 people. Terrifying.

That’s…a lot of people…

As I got older, I continued to write, and took a couple of creative writing courses (which were full of people just like the “Guy in your MFA” account on Twitter). A common theme in these classes how difficult it was to get published. I’m not sure I really believed them at the time (ha!) but eventually “practicality” won out over writing and I let my book dreams fall by the wayside as I pursued my master’s degree in marriage and family therapy.

Yay social services!

Fast forward to fall 2009, when I was attending a women’s group through my church, and got to talking with another girl around my age. She was also a writer, and she asked if I was going to be doing NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWhatNow?

She explained the idea of Nano, and I went home and looked it up. I’d never really considered writing an entire BOOK. I mean, I read voraciously, a couple hundred books a year typically, but to be the puppetmaster? For an entire book? The extent of that power…mindboggling.

Mind = Boggled

And thus my writing began again. I wrote 50K that November. And then stopped. For three more years. At that point, I started talking to my friend Jenny, and she was in the midst of writing and querying. She got me excited about writing again, and I finished my book.

ALL THE WORDS

Unfortunately, that book was not meant to be THE ONE. The next one I wrote, a YA sci-fi I was in love with, was also not meant to be. I’d always been told to be writing something new while querying, and another idea started tickling my brain. I had been interested in human trafficking for a couple of years (not the act of doing it, the push to END it). I had read stories, watched documentaries, and I couldn’t help wondering how someone got into doing something like that. What would it be like to grow up with that as your life? The only thing you knew? And that’s when Clara started talking to me.

This was a scary book for me for many reasons. It was adult fiction, which I hadn’t tried yet. The story came to me in an atypical format. (Chapters? Who needs ‘em? Linear timeline? So last book!) And it was dark. Really really dark. I wrote for a couple months on it, but could only go in small spurts. Clara’s story was difficult to tell. I worried at times that I wouldn’t be able to finish.

Finish I did, however, and sent it off to readers. The response was…wow. Those who had read all of my efforts so far said it was my best yet. I began querying. And got requests. Like, right away. I entered it in a contest and got picked, earning three more requests. From that contest, I had my first call with an agent, Agent A, who requested a revise and resubmit. At this point, my adult novel was only 72K words. Not nearly long enough. Agent A suggested several areas to expand and go deeper in the story, and over the course of the next six weeks or so, I was able to add about 23K words to the manuscript.

I sent my baby off again, as well as updated versions to those with the full already. Right after I had finished, I participated in the #PitMad Twitter pitch event, and another full request came from that. And then I waited. I worked on some other little things, nothing significant, started deciding on my NaNoWriMo project, and definitely did NOT stalk my inbox.

Finally, the email came. Agent A wanted to talk! And we talked, and it was great. She was nice, she was passionate about my book and truly believed in it. I was ecstatic. I went home and emailed the other agents with my materials.

The next day was crazy, filled with a handful of rejections, as well as a few more requests for fulls. Also, an email from the agent who had requested during #PitMad, wanting to set up a phone call. She’d finished the book over the weekend and was interested. So the next day Agent B called. And we talked, and it was great. She was nice, she was passionate about my book and truly believed in it. I was ecstatic.

And then less so. Because now I had a fairly big decision to make. And it was like being presented with two amazing desserts and being told I could only have one.

Dessert

Real talk. This is what they mean when they talk about “offer week hell.” You’re making this ginormous decision that could affect the rest of your career, and meanwhile every time you get another “step-aside,” it continues to sting, because even though it makes your life easier (one less to think about), you still have that pang of, “Oh, they don’t want me!” Writers’ brains are weird. (I did get some very bolstering passes though, with positive comments about my storytelling. I may have the phrase “compulsively readable” tattooed on my forehead.) And believe me when I say this was honestly one of the most difficult decisions I had to make.

After many talks with friends in the writing world, daily phone calls with my mom, and serious pro and con lists, I had my decision.

I am extremely pleased to announce that I am now represented by Sharon Pelletier of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management! Sharon understands my story, and she really gets my main character, who is complex, and doesn’t see the world the same as the rest of us. I am super lucky to have found someone so amazing to love my story like I do.

I’m so excited to move into the next step of this crazy journey. I wouldn’t be here without the support of my parents, my friends, and the amazing Twitter writing community. It took almost exactly two years of querying, and three manuscripts, to get to this point. Never give up!

Huge thanks go out to Michelle Hauk and Brenda Drake, whose contests connected me with these wonderful agents. Also thanks to my amazing family and friends, who have been so amazing and supportive, and will continue to be. There’s not enough space on the internet to truly convey how important you all are to me. LOVE YOU!

Stats:
Queries: 27
Rejections: 13
No response: 5
Full requests: 9
Offers: 2

I want to start using gifs in my blog. Maybe. Maybe not. So this is a test.

You feel me?

Thank you so much to everyone who entered the giveaway! I wish I could give you each a print, but unfortunately, I do enjoy eating and having a place to live. I hope you’ll each still take some time and look through Sara’s shop more. She has some great products for gifts. I plan on getting myself a few gifts in the near future…

So, without anymore jibber-jabber, the winner is…

Winner winner chicken dinner!

Congratulations, Kathy! Let me know which print you want for sure and we’ll get it sent your way 🙂

Thanks for playing, and check back on the blog soon for more exciting news!

This is a very special blog post for me, because I get to tell you about one of my very best friends, and one of my favorite people in the world. Her name is Sara Burrier.

Isn’t she puuurty??

Sara is a suuuper talented artist. We met a couple years ago when we attended the same church. Even before we met, I was in awe of her. She would create the chalkboard art for the sermon themes, and do other art projects. She’s one of those people who people are drawn to, who lights up when she laughs, who shines when she is inspired, and inspires when she shines.

Bringing chalkboard art to a whole new level.

A few weeks ago, Sara’s new drawing book, WATERCOLOR FAIRY ART: HOW TO BRING YOUR FAIRY REALM ART TO LIFE, came out, and I was thinking about how when authors have novels released, there’s a whole bunch of hoopla, blog posts, giveaways, party times. It’s a little different for the release of a drawing book. So, I decided I wanted to make a bit of a fuss. You can find her book on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Look! She wrote a book!

Soooooo, I am doing a number of things. First, a mini interview with Miss Sara herself about her art and inspiration, as well as what she is excited about coming up. Check it:

When did you start drawing?
Sara: A very important question indeed. I started drawing around the age of one like many, but I think I intentionally began drawing as a hobby or for fun around third grade. The films ‘The Little Mermaid’ and ‘Fantasia’ by Walt Disney came out around that time and those were huge motivators.

Why fairies and mermaids?
Sara: Same, as the Disney channel was one of the very few channels my sister and I were permitted to watch as kids. I was influenced by fairy tales, make believe, and imagination Walt Disney put on screen. The fairies came specifically from ‘Fantasia’…even more specifically, the ice fairies skating and creating frost. I was blown away by their enchantment. Ariel from Disney’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ won my heart in regards to mermaids. You’d think it was Peter Pan’s mermaids, but they didn’t have the kind of kick and personality Ariel had. I related to her very much, and she had the most beautiful voice. I fell in love instantly with the idea of a magical underwater world. I was a mermaid in the pool and at the beach from there on out.

3) Where does your inspiration come from?
Sara: Inspiration comes from many different avenues, it’s difficult to pinpoint it. Generally I’m inspired by fluidity of movement depicted in any art form, be it paint, pencil, or sculpture. I am inspired by ornate patterns and natural textures such as leaves, feathers, and flowers. I am also heavily inspired by nature and the sounds it makes. How the wind blows, how the birds sing, how a tree shades you from sun and rain, or how bubbles rise. There’s a romance to this earth and all that’s in it. A bit deep, but inspiration is a feel, felt down deep in the heart and gut, and it just ‘happens’ sometimes.

How long does a piece take you? (I realize this varies…like, a lot.)
Sara: It varies, a lot, like you said. To give you an idea though, I work about three solid hours a day, and to complete a 5×7 inch painting it could take me about a week. It would be safe to say about 20 hours from start to finish. The more complex the painting, the longer it will take as well. If, let’s say, that 5×7 inch painting is highly ornate, has two people, and a lot of hair (because, let’s face it, I’m addicted to painting hair), the amount of hours it takes could range up to the 40 hour mark. An 11×14 painting, on average, can take well up to two months.

What is your favorite new item you’re coming out with?
Sara: Anything with watercolor ground on it! I have just discovered how to really use this paste, and I can see great potential with it. You paint on this paste-like substance, and after it drive you can use watercolors on top. The most fascinating part it is sticks to glass, tin, wood, or anything else you can scratch up. I’m currently applying it to old Altoid tins and painting fairy faces on top. It’s almost therapeutic because they are very textile, requiring painting, sanding, drawing, painting more, sealing, and selling. I joke that I need employees all of a sudden to create an assembly line.

Who is your favorite superhero?
Sara: Gah!!! Such a hard question!!! When I was a teenager it was Jean Gray and Catwoman. Seriously, I was Catwoman for Halloween more times than once. Now, as an adult, geee, it’s difficult because of the movies we have now. The actors really put a life into the characters I didn’t see when I was reading comic books. I was never a big Wolverine fan, but after Hugh Jackman played him, I loved him. And it wasn’t just because it was Hugh, but you could tell her really dived into the character and worked to bring him to life. Second, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Robert Downey, Jr. play Iron Man. His quirkiness and ‘matter of fact’ approach sold the character to me. He also exposed the weakness in Iron Man that I somehow missed before. Trust me, I’m a junkie for superhero movies…and I’m still a Disney junkie too. A fox as Robin Hood? Genius!

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Sara: It used to be Scotland, but then I went there. I’d go back in a heartbeat too. I’d love to see Ireland and Italy. My husband has been to Italy and it sounded like a lot of fun, and extremely rick in art culture I didn’t get to see in Scotland. It’s on the bucket list.

Who is your favorite person who also writes this blog?
Sara: RENA!!! WHOO WHOO! ^_^

Awww, ain’t we cute?

Next, I want to give you a chance to get to know Sara yourselves! She has some awesome new things coming in her shop, just in time for the holidays, and you will WANT to keep up with her for updates. So, LINKAGE!

Sara B Illustration
Etsy
Twitter
Facebook
Instagram

And FINALLY. Because I believe everyone should have a Sara B print in their lives, I am giving one away to start someone’s collection! All you have to do is follow us both, tweet or share about the giveaway, and/or comment with your favorite Sara B print from her Etsy shop. That’s it! The contest will go until midnight, Friday, October 17. Tell your friends! (Sorry, international friends, US only this time around. Applies to the prints in the $11-12 range or ACEOs.) (Also, sorry if the widget won’t show up below. Click on the link to enter, and I will try and figure it out after work. Let me know if it’s showing up for you, but it’s not for me!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

You guys. I really shouldn’t plan a series until the entire thing is written. Like, remember how that one time I was all, hey, let’s do a series on MWW and it’ll be three parts and ooo what fun and LOOK SOMETHING SHINY LET’S GO DO THAT INSTEAD!

SHINY SQUIRREL

Yeah.

Next time I do a series, it will be written in full before I post the first one, just to avoid this very thing, because I honestly can’t remember everything I wanted to write in the final installment, and my attention span is too short to go back.

I have been thinking lately about where inspiration comes from when I write, and how different, seemingly innocuous events, have shaped who I am and how I write. And to that train of thought…a writing exercise of sorts.

I don’t remember exactly when it was that I first realized that I was different. I liked books. I wore thick glasses. I was nice and chubby. But at my old school, I was friends with everyone. Sure, there were those kids who didn’t quite fit in, but that wasn’t me. It never had been. Always cheerful, always friendly, that was me. And I belonged.

But this school was different. My third school, and I was only going into 4th grade. On my first day, I made the faux pas of not realizing we had locker partners, and inquired as to why my locker partner was in my locker. She sneered at me and told me it was hers too. I stammered an apology and gave her a smile. Later, I heard that she told everyone I thought I was Miss America because I needed my own locker. She also told anyone who would listen that I was the fattest girl in fourth grade.

Still, I was hopeful that I would make friends. I had a distant cousin who was in my grade, and the girl who lived at the funeral home had already come to invite me to play when we moved in. I was shy, quiet.

I was so excited the day the birthday party invitation came. Well, the phone call came, inviting me to the party, and I had only about an hour before it started. That should have been my first clue.

We didn’t have time or money to go out and by a shiny new present, so I painstakingly picked out my very favorite book at the time (“Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.”) and wrapped it up. I hated to give it away, but I had already read it at least twice, and I wanted to give the girl something special.

When I got to the party, all the girls in our class were there. I don’t remember much about the party, other than it was a Mary Kay party and we got to play with makeup. I do remember the look on the birthday girl’s face when she opened my gift and caught sight of the well-loved book. Disappointment, disgust, resignation. I got a small smile and a thank you, and my gift was shoved to the bottom of the pile of glitter art supplies and Barbie dolls. My favorite book, hidden away, not quite good enough to sit among the brand-new presents everyone else had had time to pick out. Those gifts from the girls whose invitation had not been a last-minute pity invite or parental edict.

It was my first experience feeling really out of place. In my mind, we could all be friends. We were all fun. I didn’t yet know about the hierarchy that had already been determined before I even moved in. I learned quickly, although not all new kids were shoved to the bottom of the food chain. If you were pretty enough, outgoing enough, SAME enough, you got to go right to the top.

I was different. And for the first time that seemed really bad.

There are many more stories I could tell from my six years living in that tiny, judgmental town. Worse stories, and better. I met some wonderful people there who I remain friends with to this day. But each of the events shaped me in some way. Molded me into what I would someday become.

I make no promises about my next entry. Maybe another memory, maybe something about writing, maybe a completely new experiment. Whatever it is, I hope you’ll meet me back here. Write on, friends 🙂

Last time I talked about the fellow attendees at Midwest Writers. An amazing group of writers at all different ages and stages of writing. Even over the past couple of days I’ve been contacted by several I talked to throughout the weekend who are now finding their way online and discovering just how crazy I actually am. But that’s neither here nor there.

Obviously, while a retreat where I just get to talk to a bunch of other writers for three days would have been fabulous, this is not what Midwest Writers is. They bring in a wide variety of very talented writers and teachers to share their tips and tricks with us, and to talk about their own processes. I was very impressed with the quality of the experts, so I highly recommend that you look up these people and their work.

Thursday I participated in an intensive session about novel-writing essentials. This was run by William Kent Krueger, or Kent, as he likes to be called. I’m going to be quite honest when I say I didn’t know much about Kent before taking his course. And I will be equally honest when I say he is one of my new favorite people and authors. I haven’t gotten far into the book of his that I bought, Ordinary Grace, but his words and descriptions are so beautiful…it’s easy to get lost in the words. Not only that, but his teaching style is so affirming and positive. I had planned to sit in the back, soak in the knowledge, and not say a word, but the way Kent responded to everybody in the class gave me the courage to read an opening paragraph I wrote for one of the exercises. The class was 6 hours long and I’ve never had a class move quite so fast. I couldn’t believe when it was over. Later, I got the chance to have my book signed and talked to Kent for a few minutes, and he is just as pleasant and kind one on one. He just wants to help writers. What a beautiful soul. I went to a couple of his other workshops, and sat at his table for the Buttonhole the Experts session. I also texted my dad to tell him to buy Kent’s books, and he told me he’s already read all of them. My brother, too, is quite a fan, and was pretty jealous of me, for good reason 😉

One woman who may have completely revolutionized how I look at writing is Jess Lourey. I attended a workshop of hers on writing funny, where I determined that I have no idea how to be funny on purpose. Which is fine. The workshop that possibly changed my life, however, was one on 7 steps to writing a novel. Honestly, going into it, I was like, come on, just 7 steps? How is that even possible? Besides, I’m a total pantser. Well, mostly. I usually play a lot of Mah-Jong and spend a lot of car and shower hours developing my plot and characters, and then I just see where the story takes me. However, Jess’ steps made a lot of sense, and I’m definitely going to try using them for my next novel, just to see the difference. As someone who hates continuity errors, I think it could help me a lot by not having to go back and check details every time I want to remember hair or eye color for a character. Plus, I often have periods where I just quit writing for a while because I get stuck, and it seems like using some of her techniques could prevent that or at least get me out of a rut. Fabulous.

One of the tables we sat at for the Buttonhole the Expert exercise (rotate tables every 20 minutes to talk to a different expert about a predetermined topic) was Kelsey Timmerman. I had already been impressed with Kelsey’s obviously enthusiasm for MWW and writers in general, and I was even more impressed talking to him in a small group. His topic was about writing from your “axis of awesome,” which was completely obscure, and which also drew me to the table. What Kelsey talked about was how to find your passions and combine them to create something unique. I love the idea of combining things that I’m passionate about. My most recent novel, REMEMBERING DIANA, covers the topic of human trafficking, which I am passionate about. Being able to write about it, use that passion to get information out about a very serious topic, was a rush for me, and I’m excited to figure out what other passions I can combine.

Daniel Jose Older gave several talks, as well as the keynote at the final banquet. He is a sci-fi/fantasy writer, and he also focuses on issues of “the other” in media and society. He was highly entertaining, and really made me think about the way characters are portrayed in my writing. Am I adhering to stereotypes, or have I managed to break free from them? I’m a little worried that the answer might not be what I’d hoped as I take a more critical look at my writing. He also pointed out that sometimes we are NOT the ones to write a particular book, even if we’re passionate about it. I firmly believe in writing from your heart, but I think it’s a good idea to examine the true motives behind the decision to write any particular story. His sessions made me think about my writing in a completely new way, in a way that will stick with me going forward.

The last person I want to talk about is Lori Rader-Day. Her debut, The Black Hour, just came out this month. I only got to talk to her for 20 minutes during the Buttonhole exercise, but here’s the thing about Lori. She is SO NICE. Even in my short time around writers I have seen how sometimes having a book out can go to your head. Lori was so humble and just so grateful for her opportunities, and was happy to share in part of her journey with whoever happened to sit down at her table. I bought her book immediately, without even really knowing what it was about. That is good marketing, people. Making me admire the person, not just the product. Love it.

Phew. That was long. Apologies, but not really, because each of these people deserve even more words than I was able to commit to them today. Next up…general observations! Maybe.

First, the truth. I’m still processing my experience at Midwest Writers Workshop, so I’m not sure how coherent this entry will be. But I can tell you one thing that I know for sure.

It. Was. Awesome.

I know. Awesome is a way overused word. Thesaurus.com recommends some of the following words instead: astonishing, beautiful, breathtaking, impressive, magnificent, overwhelming, stunning, wonderful, mind-blowing, amazing, fantastic…all of which would also apply.

I’m not going to lie. I got a little nervous spending the money. I work in social services…not exactly a goldmine there. But it was important to me to enter the world of conferences and to see a side of writing away from my little writing group and the crazy Twitter community. And it was awesome. Yes. Awesome. In many different ways.

I’ll probably try and talk about different things throughout the course of the next couple of weeks. The sessions, the experts, the things I learned. But today, I want to start with something that made every other part of the conference that much better.

The people.

I am a fan of writers, and the writing community in general. Over the past years they have helped me to become an even better writer, to push myself to try things I had never before considered, and to keep going even when giving up seemed like an easier option. Most of these amazing writers, however, were from Twitter, and were scattered all around the world. So going to a conference with hundreds of fellow writers I figured would be either totally awesome or really really horrible.

You can probably guess which one it was.

I had my friends and family a little worried when I planned to make the 8-10 hour drive with a friend I had never met in real life, and stay in a hotel with her and another imaginary friend. They didn’t need to worry at all. There wasn’t a single moment of awkwardness between Jamie and me from the moment she picked me up until the moment we were saying goodbye. She knows me almost better than some people I see every day, and understands me in ways they can’t. Writing becomes so much a part of who you are, and we writers recognized the genius bordering on crazy of our own kind. In the same way, Kathy melded into our group seamlessly, and over the days of the conference, more than once people joined us and said they chose our table simply because it looked like we were having the most fun.

We were.

There was a wide variety of people at MWW. Older and younger, men and women. Writers of children’s literature to adult, fantasy to non-fiction. I heard people read words that were beautiful, heartbreaking, hilarious, and wise. There was so much talent, I’m a little surprised the Alumni Center at Ball State didn’t burst. One thing everyone had in common was their love of writing. It was clear in how they talked about what they did, and the way they encouraged others.

If I had to go back and do nothing but talk to the other people, learn their stories, invest in their lives, I would do it in a moment. The people are the heartbeat of any conference. And the MWW attendees are a cut above the rest.

Coming up next…I don’t know for sure. But something! Stay tuned…

Lately I have had some very traumatic experiences at the hands legs of the dreaded ceiling spider. Three of them, actually. Now, I’m a writer, therefore, my emotions might run just slightly hotter than the average bear. And I mean that literally. (No I don’t.)

Anyway. I may have slightly overreacted.

What. Spiders are crafty buggers.

Most people were quite supportive, but my aunt suggested that perhaps I should calm down. Which, as my aunt, she is supposed to do. However, I got to thinking about the suggestion, and this was my response: Good stories are not made by people who react in a calm and rational way.

The more I thought about it, the more I believed it. I mean, think about your favorite stories. Most of the time, the main characters react in an emotional way to some event, and BOOM. Story.

Now. I could have told the story like this:

On Saturday I saw a spider on my ceiling. When it crawled to the kitchen area, I squashed it with a box. Sunday, there was another one, and I freaked out a little, but got him with a vacuum. Then, last night, a third ceiling spider appeared, and I sprayed it with hairspray and flushed it down the toilet.

Informative? Sure. Those are all the facts. But…it’s pretty dry and impersonal. So, to demonstrate how passion and somewhat inappropriate emotional responses make for a much better story, I decided to recount the events of the past three days in full color. Behold:

He was the third of his kind, and I knew already that he was different.

His first brother had been merely inquisitive, strolling across the ceiling, exploring in that nonchalant way of his. Perhaps my first mistake was killing that one. But you go for my food, and I can’t take it as anything other than a declaration of war. He was dispatched with an empty box, while I stood on a footstool. His body, curled in death, was swept away with the crumbs from my latest cooking adventure.

The second came the following night. He was a little trickier, a little more clever. He did not just hang out on the ceiling, but appeared and disappeared at random. I may have overreacted with him, but, bolstered by my Facebook and Twitter support systems, I faced him down armed with the vacuum hose and the aura of a unicorn. I waged this battle with a war cry, and was rewarded with a photoshopped victory plaque. I was winning. 2-0. Certainly none would be so brave as to confront me again.

Actual picture* of vanquished spider.
*Photoshopped by Ryan Brimer, hubby of Margie Brimer, CP extraordinaire

Until him. As I said, he was different. He taunted me from his place on the ceiling, clinging the the popcorn surface right above me, and scuttling away when the crick in my neck grew too tight to guard his movements. I’m not going to lie. I was tired. Exhausted from this constant battle. After all, who am I but a two-armed warrior, while they bring the full force of eight appendages, quadrupling my abilities. So I tried to call a truce. He could live on my ceiling, in the corner by the air conditioner, or the one by the lamp. He could eat whatever tiny bugs flew around, and we could coexist.

He had other plans.

He stalked me through the apartment. Wherever I turned, there he was. Watching. Waiting. Biding his time until he could catch me off guard. Too bad for him, I am never off guard.

He made his move while I was in the bathroom, fixing my hair. I glanced in the mirror and saw him stationed above my bedroom door. Feigning nonchalance, I continued with my task. When I looked again, he was gone. I reached carefully for my giant bottle of rarely-used hairspray. It is important to keep such props around, so they don’t suspect the weapons in their midst. Shaking the can with cool calculation, I crept toward the doorway. Just outside the door, waving in a gentle breeze from nowhere, an almost transparent cobweb was strung from the bedroom door to the bathroom. Stealthy bugger.

Taking a deep breath, I ninja rolled out of the bathroom and came to my feet facing the way I had come, spray nozzle at the ready. Sure enough, there he was, a black blemish on the polished wood of the doorjamb. Without hesitation, I sprayed him with the toxic chemical, willing his body to freeze with the ultra all-day hold promise. He fell from his perch, where he had surely been planning to ambush me, but gained purchase a few feet down, clinging to the wood again, no doubt helped by his now sticky fingers (yes, spider fingers. I’ll give you a minute to think about that). With no mercy, I sprayed again, and he fell to the carpet. I continued spraying until I was sure even his ancestors were frozen in place.

With a deep breath, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and scooped up my foe. Into the watery grave of the toilet I tossed him, and watched his body swirl in circles before disappearing into the black hole.

Then I flushed again.

Just to be sure.

I expect someday I will pay for what I have done, when the mothership comes looking for her lost sons and the heartless beast who took them from her. But on this day…on this day, victory is mine.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

I haven’t written for a week. I haven’t read anyone else’s writing (other than published books.) I haven’t edited or even really thought about plots or storylines or characters.

It’s been glorious.

Honestly, that’s not something I thought I would say. Ever. Over the past several months, I have been in beast mode, completing three novels since November. So many more stories pop into my head every week, and I have years’ worth of ideas. When I wasn’t writing, I would want to be writing. Characters would bang at the doors of my brain, begging me to let them out. 

And then…and then. I finished my fifth novel last weekend, took a day, and then opened up a previous novel, Above Eden, to read through, since my next project is the sequel. And I just didn’t wanna. I love Eden. I love the story. I’m excited to see what happens next in her world. But I had no motivation to do anything about it. The idea made me exhausted, and I found myself doing more than the usual amount of procrastinating to avoid it. 

Meanwhile, in the real world, at my day job, I was feeling tired and useless. Not as entertained as I usually am talking to 6-9 elementary age kids a day. I didn’t want to make phone calls or write letters, and other paperwork? Forget about it. I did it, of course, but it was with the enthusiasm equal to that of when I go to the dentist. I was doing it because I had to, but there was no feeling behind it. And I mean NO FEELING. 

Numb.

And that is not a good way to be when writing. So I decided that I would the week off from anything writing. I even backed off on social media, becoming more a lurker than a participant, and then not even checking much for several days. I kept going to work, because even when you work in the mental health field, you’re not allowed to take days off because your mental health is out of whack. And then my body decided to get ‘n sync (it’s tearin’ up my heart!) with my body and gave me a migraine to completely shut out the rest of the world, including work. In my moments of relief over the two day squeezing of my brain, I binge-watched Veronica Mars. Otherwise I napped. 

Finally. FINALLY. I woke up on Friday feeling clearer than I had in weeks, really. I hadn’t noticed how fuzzy everything had gotten. How everything sort of lost its color. I barely remember the two days of the mental break/migraine. It was like I just checked out completely. 

And now I’m back. Another story idea came to me in the form of a GREAT first line from my 13 year old mini-me. I was out of the house almost all weekend, being social and stuff. Life is brighter and happier again. 

I’m ready to write again. I needed that break. I think sometimes we forget that we can’t just keep going and going and going at high speed and expect to keep it up. Eventually it’s going to catch up. Hopefully I’ll remember this and schedule in breaks before I get to my breaking point. This summer is already booked with tons of fun stuff, and it needs to be as bright and colorful as it can be. 

My new goal is to finish this next book by the end of August. If I get it done before then, great. But I’m not pushing myself. There’s no reason at this point, and it’s just not good for me. And really, that’s only three and a half months. 

How can you tell when you need a break? How do you recharge? 

Today is Mother’s Day. A day to celebrate mothers and other important women in our lives. I enjoyed seeing all the pictures of friends with their mothers on Facebook, people celebrating their mothers, whether they are still around or not. I saw beautiful greetings and proclamations of love, everyone claiming that their mother is, in fact, the best in the world. It’s enough to warm anyone’s heart.

I also saw a lot of complaining. Complaining that families didn’t do enough. Complaining about not being a mother and therefore not being celebrated. Complaining about feeling inadequate for not having accomplished motherhood.

This isn’t new. I have seen more and more complaining everywhere I turn lately. And while I think it’s great that people go to their support systems online for help when they’re feeling down, there are times when it crosses the line. That’s a whole different post, though. This post is about me. I am as guilty of being overly critical about my life as anyone. Ungrateful for the things I have. Full of complaints about how my life could be better. So I’ve been making a concerted effort to turn my thoughts to the positive.

I’m going to open my heart a little bit here, share some of my shortcomings, to give an example of how I’m working on being content where I am.

1) I keep finding more silver hairs streaking through my brown strands. BUT it is a testament to the fact that I am aging. Too many young people will never get the chance to grow their grays.

2) I hate being the fat girl. BUT I have plenty to eat, and the means to take control if I so choose.

3) My job is mentally and emotionally exhausting, and there is far too much paperwork. BUT I have a job that I love most days, and where I have the opportunity to change lives.

4) I am 30 years old and not married, which sometimes makes me feel like a failure, and unwanted. BUT I truly appreciate the freedom of being single and living alone, and I have lots of friends who show me regularly that I am wanted.

5) My books are not published. BUT I love writing, creating worlds, and as long as I am able to continue doing it for the love of it, being published is secondary.

6) Living in an apartment sucks, and I can’t afford to move. BUT I have a roof over my head, with more possessions and amenities than I need.

Does finding the positives in these things mean that I stop wishing for them to change? Of course not. They are areas where I still hold hope for something different. But if I am constantly focusing on what I don’t have, I forget to look at what I do have. And I have more than a lot of people. For that, I am grateful.