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Posts from the ‘Cathy’ Category

Dec 15

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Cathy: CH-CH-CH-Changes…

cathyofficeFor this blog post, I didn’t want to moan about how we’ve been passing a handful of colds, sinus infections, ear infections, etc. since K had strep a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. So I won’t, but I couldn’t let go of mentioning it, of course. Tis the season; the temperature has dropped, schools are breeding grounds and buses are transportation devices for snuffy noses and coughs not covered. We’ll get over this round eventually, this is the one where we cough at night, but heads are so stuffed by day, the world sounds like I’m underwater in an old-fashioned diving suit, with the fishbowl headpiece.

12122008panaramaoffice-004What I want to do is give the update on something — I can’t even remember where I first mentioned it — my own blog post or a comment thread. But we did it. The room of my own that never was is now more populated. My husband, who has been roaming the house for a free space for his laptop for over two years, now has a space to do the design side jobs that make up the difference my lack of income brings for our family of six, plus cat and dog. S has already spilled hot cocoa on my husband’s keyboard, while sitting in Honey’s seat with an ice pack on his shin. The dramatic crawl from the bottom of the stairs where he stumbled a bit should win an Academy Award. Too bad I didn’t get it on film.

12122008panaramaoffice-001We’re still in the design phase: pictures need re-hanging, the box of papers to be filed has grown and yes, Honey’s desk is my old kitchen table, which was previously being used as a place to pile tools in the garage. I also need to re-organize my bulletin board, but I can live with it like this until the moment I get so frustrated with the chaos of it, I rip everything off of it to start over. I tried for a panorama view from my desk, which was facing out into the room and now faces the wall, but at least I still have a view out the window. [Click on any image for a larger view.] There are still mini-messes by everyone hovering, but for the moment, they are to a minimum. In other words, the sacrifice wasn’t so great. In fact, I now get to see my husband more now that he’s not wandering for a workspace to call his own. So this is my executive seat, in my humble corner, with my big bookcases, giant file cabinet, and that’s my mother-in-law in residence with Baby C. And to circle back for a revisit to paragraph one, we all feel crappy. But that’s just because of the colds. We’re pretty happy with the current arrangement.

Dec 9

1 Comment

Cathy: Writer’s Handbook

Most people peruse right past all the weird little articles and ads in the backs of magazines, but not me. I find all manner of wonderful surprises in the nether region of the print world. Some of us avid readers have to literally read every little thing. Recently, I was trying to finish off a month old mag I had lying around, in the same way I read all sides of the cereal box during breakfast as a kid. That endeavor wrought this gem from the back of the Winter 2008 issue of UU WORLD:

The New Writer’s Handbook: 2007 and The New Writer’s Handbook: Volume 2. Ed. By Philip Martin. Scarletta Press, 2007 and 2008: $16.95. This annual anthology of articles by notable authors, journalists, writing instructors, editors, agents, and literary bloggers offers writers advice on their craft and careers, including how-to pieces and topics on professional issues and the creative process.

I immediately regretted using my recent winnings from the weekly creativity contest for a Santa purchase. I may have to wait until father time welcomes his new baby — and the approach of my birthday — to splurge on this for myself, but maybe the rest of our writers might be able to benefit from my neat find. Maybe you can drop a stocking hint to your husband, by leaving your laptop open on the kitchen table where he can see this blog 😉  Enjoy!

Dec 4

21 Comments

Cathy: Reconciling differences

supermomThanksgiving weekend was spent with my husband’s extended family, eating, eating and, well, eating. There was one family drama — a big one — but otherwise it was really nice having everyone over here and talking, and hanging around and eating. I took one walk. I battled the cold everyone’s been passing around. Honey and I had a date with the baby in tow at the art museum across the water. At my church on Sunday, we had an after-service Thanksgiving leftovers luncheon, to which I brought my sautéed kale with garlic, raisins and walnuts that my in-laws didn’t eat. They preferred the four kinds of pies and two kinds of sweet potatoes and two kinds of mashed potatoes and two stuffings, etc. The kale was a hit at church, which felt good.

Well, there I was, holding Baby C who kept dropping her juice bottle in experiments in gravity. My nursing top was gaping in an unflattering way, as I kept bending over to pick up her bottle. A very nice man came over to get some pecan pie which was in front of me, and cooed at her, talked baby for a while, and here comes the bomb — wait for it — he added, “and I see you’re having another!”

Now, my Honey said before I left for church that morning that I was getting cuter everyday. This was in response to my looking in the mirror at my lopsided nursing boobs, my still doughy, chunky middle eight months later, and feeling exhausted from another sleepless night of coughing and nursing, and moaning about my appearance. So when the very nice man at church asked if I was having a, no — told me I was having another, it just about crushed me. At the time, I was able to laugh it off, but later, I feel pretty blah.

Isn’t it enough that I’m up and around, beginning to lose the pregnancy weight, while sporting a nursing E-cup on a five-foot-two frame? I’m beginning to get back to yoga, trying to walk the dog when it’s not too cold and wet and when the baby and I aren’t sporting colds. I haven’t slept a solid night’s sleep since July 2007, and I feel pretty yucky. Hey, people, I’m showing up and with an eight-month-old trying to circus dive off my shoulder! I think that’s pretty good in and of itself!

So, keep the commentary to your very nice self, please. It would do a world of good for the esteem of any woman lugging around a baby. We’re not Hollywood moms with a drawer full of Spanx, personal trainers at beck and call, and starvation diets. We’re real moms, with real bellies and real appetites because we’re breastfeeding. And no matter how much formula may be pushed on us, even in this more enlightened age than our parents’, we’re doing what’s best for our babies, and eating for two.

I’m taking the superwoman route after that comment — I am a super woman because I am doing it all, and doing it well, most of the time, anyway.

Nov 25

11 Comments

Cathy: Room of one’s own?

Lately we have had a few posts here addressing the issue of creative moms having a space to be creative. One where no one else gets into our stuff; one where no one else’s stuff piles into our stuff; a computer, or a desk or a room of one’s own where we can have some clear head space, a view, and the ability to be in a creative mood or mind without interference.

I reluctantly share my writing PC with my children for homework and personal projects. The eldest, K prefers burning CDs to his MP3 while checking his email while making surreptitious maneuvers around parental controls to view videos and play internet games his brother should definitely not be looking over the shoulder to see. However, in general, though he may break my rules, I’ve made him good and paranoid of internet predators, so he’s not up to anything that will get him into any trouble other than with me. He also happens to be working on a couple of novels, albeit a lot bloodier than mine and full of fantasy genre: lone wolf types fighting their way through a world of evil. The second born prodigy, er I mean progeny (right, ma) is obsessed with Windows Movie Maker and typing up titles and credits to his films. He sneaks watching videos on youtube, too, but he’s easier to catch.

cdesk
I also share my office with my mother-in-law, retired, who really likes computer games. We sit here much of the day together, especially when the boys are in school. Sometimes I am distracted in conversation with her, because I’m trying to write, sometimes, the conversation is just what’s needed. There are many writing rituals I used to do that I’ve given up with her presence: the sing-song reading aloud, the general weird noises and seat dancing, music playing, etc. Just weird writer things, like saying LA-LA-LA-LA-LA while I’m not really sure if the part I’m trying to write makes any sense, but I’m writing it anyway, for now. There’s also the time I tried bouncing a writing dilemma off of her and she was looking at me very strangely. Did I mention she is a retired accountant? She disproves my old theory that all avid readers are writers at heart.

It’s a decent sized room, but there’s a lot of furniture crammed in here, including a full-sized guest bed. Oh and I didn’t mention what I usually mention: the fact that while I’m trying to write, I have squirming, nursing or sleeping baby on my lap.

Today, my husband asked to move in, too. We broke out the tape measure, and technically, we can make it work, but aren’t doing well on agreeing about how. He wants to share the desk. I am going to go wicked eighties for a sec here, but I’m like, totally no way! It’s bad enough with the kids and me. His paper problem is much worse than mine. And mine is admittedly bad. I suggested he bring in the hunk of kitchen counter that’s still in the garage from when we removed it from the kitchen 18 months ago. With some maneuvering of a giant file cabinet and my desk, it’ll be tight, but it’ll work.

It’s really the least I can do. Of course I’ll be more inconvenienced than I am already. I already feel boxed into a corner. But the guy has been a real trooper. He took care of me and my kids from marriage number one, when I was a pain in the butt bedrest preggo for a very long time. He also provides for an increasingly large household through not just a day job, but side jobs. Until we make room for him in here, he wanders the house for an open corner of kitchen counter with stool, the dining room table after dinner and dishes are done. Sometimes I can hear the hum and click of his laptop at two in the morning, when he has to get up and do it all over again in about four hours. The very least I can do is squeeze him in next to me in here. Hey, maybe we’ll even end up spending more time together.

So, room of one’s own? I doubt it’ll be possible until, ah, shucks, I don’t have the foggiest idea! My youngest won’t graduate high school til I’m 60. Even though I do not want to live through another pregnancy like hers, I can’t help having that ‘what if’ in the back of my mind. After all, my late father-in-law still doesn’t have a grandson to carry on the name.

Nov 17

9 Comments

Cathy: Exalted Warrior – or is it ‘exhausted’?

11-13-2008yogablog-006After Miranda’s blog on “Someday,” I began to rethink things. A big thing I began to rethink is how I’ve gone from my daily walks down to nothing in the concept of exercise or taking care of myself. That was number two on my comment list. I’ve noticed a considerable increase in crankiness because of it, too; as well as less efficiency in writing my manuscript. I won’t go into the aches and pains.

Before my past year-plus spent in bed, I had a regular routine of a 20-minute yoga tape I did for years at least three times per week. Before I was in bed, I walked the dog quickly, and mowed the lawn myself with an ecologically sound, human-powered rotary blade mower. I cut down dead bushes, dug out root balls and hand-tilled my gardens by myself. Mind you, none of this was ever easy for me, as I have back issues going as far back as age 12 and bad knees, shoulder, etc, too. Physical strength was never my strong suit.

After my year in bed, I had taken a while to get back on my feet. This summer I started with walking the dog, pushing Baby C in the stroller, because I literally couldn’t stand on my own. I was determined, though, and daily, no matter how much it hurt, how tired I was, how hot it got here — around 100 degrees most days — at 11:00 in the morning, there I was, dog on a leash, baby, bottle of water, canvas bag hanging from stroller filled with books — reading, writing, Wreck this Journal, and camera inside. Neighbors spotted me and waved on the street loop of my subdivision. I swear it was these walks (along with this website) and my recouping meditative sits on the bench by the fingerlake that got me back to a state where I could consider breaking out my old, not forgotten project.

A couple of weeks back, somehow, by rain, cold or sheer sleep deprivation, I fell out of the habit. Co-incidentally, my writing progress fell off, too. Then I read Miranda’s blog post. Several days were spent considering I may be in enough recovery from my super-relaxin hormone problem to start doing yoga again without coming apart at every joint.

Today, I got Baby C to nap, and cleaned out the video cabinet in the search for my old reliable yoga tape. Among other surprises, I discovered a broken shelf held up by the strategic placement of a Raiders of the Lost Ark videotape — need to have a discussion with certain young male family members. But finally, I did the yoga tape. I’m finding long-forgotten muscles creeping up on me a couple of hours later, but I feel much more relaxed, less impatient than yesterday. Maybe tonight I can get through homework with S without the recent dramas — mine, not his. Those are to be expected. And maybe the gears of fiction will grind back on, squeaky and creaky, matching body during yoga, but on nonetheless.

Nov 10

8 Comments

Cathy: I miss my kids

K, hanging -- what you don't see are the 10 HS girls just outside the frame

This whole juggling creativity and kids thing is swinging the pendulum in the opposite direction lately. I am, if not actively writing in my manuscript, doing some research re: astronomy and observatories online, albeit while also hopping blogs, etc. I have been regularly contributing to the weekly contest, to keep me on my toes creatively, and writing a blog per week, which usually means I am analyzing how the writing process is going for the manuscript. I have been accused by my family of spending more time with the computer than anyone else does.

My young teen has started becoming more interested in hanging out in a neighborhood clique after school than in playing video games. That is fantastic in my book, except that I don’t see as much of him. When he comes home, he zips upstairs to shower before dinner, do homework, and after dinner, he disappears upstairs again. I knew this was coming, as I remember doing the same at the same age, but he’s really adept at it. I think he’s in the room with me, so I start talking, while doing something else, of course. I turn to check if he’s listening, and he’s become invisible!

On fishing trip -- S draws instead

On fishing trip -- S draws instead

S, the 10-year-old, is on a bender lately, too, secluding himself to draw comics of space adventures. Now part of this is because he keeps losing TV and video game privileges until his room is clean and stays that way. I will not spend another valuable weekend afternoon on that project again.

Baby C is generally in my arms while I’m typing away at the PC, but I can’t help feeling like I could be doing more with her. Yes, I do play with her, too, but you know, she’ll probably be typing soon herself at this rate. I’ve also started leaving her home with her grandma more often lately so I can accomplish more of the errands than I can by bringing her along. That in and out of the baby seat business and strollering her here and there is exhausting and time consuming, Therefore, I can double or better errand capacity without her, as I’m no longer nursing exclusively and she can eat food and drink juice.

Baby C -- naptime, not on me

Baby C -- naptime, not on me

It’s nice that it has been relatively quiet for writing, and I’ve been accomplishing more as an independent person. However, I can’t help feeling like I need to be with my kids more than I have been lately.

So, my plans for the weekend, most likely past as you read this, is to amp up some indie time with each and some family fun. Friday night, I am taking S without taking anyone else to a special needs kids event at a local zoo, maybe get to pet some of the animals. Saturday, I am making Honey take S on a fishing trip in the morning with dads/stepdads and their aspies, while I take K to a café for some face time while, hopefully, Baby C naps. Sat. afternoon, we’re getting together with some of the families from our aspie group, so S gets ‘peer interaction,’ K gets to hang with some friends, and frankly, so do we, as parents. Sunday, I think we’ll have a relatively lazy day at home. I want to talk the guys into playing a game or doing a puzzle all together. But Honey still needs to mow that lawn! I’ll comment an update if my plans went off without a hitch or derailed.

When Monday rolls back around, I will get back to my writing better, refreshed by the love of my family. Right — as long as the usual chaos doesn’t overtake us.

Nov 4

16 Comments

Cathy: Crying out in the wilderness

I’m having one of those moments — one of those really bad moments of a stay-at-home mother or a writer. The kind where you can hear yourself screaming, but it’s as if everyone else in your home is looking right past you, no matter what you may be saying. In a movie, the lens would be panning through the doors, around the room and from a distance into close up, the sound of a scream gaining momentum until the camera is zooming into an open mouth of a crazed woman standing, in — Oh, I don’t know, let’s put her in the kitchen, with a steaming pot on the stove and a mess of undue proportion all around, but finally the camera goes into that cavern of a mouth, dodges past teeth and tongue, spotlights the uvula, and goes black, and silent. When the scene comes back up, she’s standing there, stunned look on her face, flyaway hair escaping ponytail, and breathing stiltedly.

This is also a common feeling for anyone who deals on a regular basis with someone on the autism spectrum. So I am having a triple whammy day of it — the regular wife and mother moment, the writer moment, and the aspie mom moment of it. So I thought I’d put it to good use. Maybe if someone stumbles across this blog as any one of the above, they’ll know they are not alone without having to feel like they should go on Oprah to talk about it. Following are just a few parts of my particular scenario that have led me to this moment:

  1. I’m still kind of feeling like I’m writing in a void since I don’t have an income from it, although I’m generally doing much better about that feeling while actively working on a novel.
  2. I spent much of yesterday, side by side with my aspie son, looking for the floor in his room — a sea of drawings, started and stopped over and over, because it just wasn’t perfect enough for him. He kept zoning out into whatever caught his attention. I kept calling his name and giving a different list: his list of choices to put things: paper to be recycled, paper to be saved, non-paper garbage or toy bucket. We made it about ¾ of the way through the mess in three hours, mostly by me and by my yelling “S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled? S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled? S- S- S– look at me — look at this — is this drawing to be saved or recycled?”
  3. My husband has not mowed the lawn in a month. The grass is taller than the dog. I know I got us out of the house last weekend for the whole weekend, essentially, so I intentionally backed out of plans for this weekend, except trick or treat, so that we could focus on what slid last weekend, especially the lawn. I finally started to ‘nag’ about it, and then he actively refused to do it. Now I must mention, we have a history with the lawn that involves my ‘green’ mower and doing it myself vs the gas mower and his doing it, in which I have been shut out of the argument due to my recent bedrest pregnancy complications and the fact that I’m still ‘recovering’ from that year in bed and one of the complications.
  4. I also have a teen son. His reaction time, if there is one, happens in stop gap motion. Have you ever seen anyone really look as if they are moving through molasses? That is K. And his slow motion voice has deepened to sound a lot like one of those slow motion effects, too. “Whaaaaaaa…”
  5. I’m more often than not, pinned nursing my lovely baby, which leads to a feeling of helplessness to accomplish one complete task from beginning to end. Not to mention the sleep deprivation involved. Too late.
  6. Economy is a huge issue and my darling husband is a classic sort — the quiet type who thinks he has to take care of it all himself and will probably give himself a heart attack trying rather than communicate better, so I end up having a freak-out moment because of the periodic buildup between us. Of course this only leads to my looking like a drama queen, and doesn’t get us effectively communicating, because he stands there in stunned silence at the monster who has taken possession of his petite, usually fairly sunny disposition wife, complete with flying laundry baskets.
  7. I have my period. Period.

Thanks for listening, and if you ever have the same feeling, feel free to leave a comment below. I must say, having vented, I feel much better already, nearly as well as if I had called a girlfriend and laughed about the same. Maybe now I can rewash that laundry that flew down the stairs last night along with the three day old few sips of coffee I had left by my bedside. Yuck, spotty.

Oct 30

10 Comments

Cathy: The Stars, Universe, and Everything Serendipitous

Never in my life would I have imagined that I would be emailed from prominent astronomers for my own little project of a kids’ novel. So far, I have had contact from two. Granted, I have only queried them, and they’ve replied that they want to know what this is about, but it’s a start. I can’t wait to see how either will respond! Of course I noted that anything they could help me with is absolutely at their convenience, so it may be a long wait. I’m so great at shooting myself in the foot, as I don’t want to be a burden.

Even so, I feel legitimized by the networking and consulting process. This is no longer just my writing into a void. There is professional interest in what I have to say. My sense from each of these astronomers is they appreciate their field being trotted out in front of a bunch of kids who may grow up to be interested in astronomy. I hadn’t really considered my book as being influential in that way. The thought may have previously hovered in the back of my mind, but now, wow! I could be pointing some kids toward science down the road, in that far off dreamy distance of published youth novel in the hands of real readers. Who would have thought it? I certainly didn’t, at least not consciously.

NASA has a rocket science research institute (I hope I have that right) up the road from my house. A block in the opposite direction is my son S’s Taekwando Dojon. S has been branching out from his narrow areas of interest — Dinosaurs, Godzilla movies, Calvin and Hobbes, and now Star Wars — to studying the solar system and claiming he will be the first man to land on Mars. He was telling a dad at Taekwando his intentions in rocket building, space travel, and Mars. That father said to me, “I work at NASA, here’s my card, I’ll bring him some stickers next class, as long as you email to remind me.” Of course, by next class, my little head went Ding! And I asked if he had any contact with astronomers. He didn’t, but since I emailed him, he has also fallen into my networking and nicely emailed me a link to NASA speakers and more. Well how about that.

I am also really excited that S is running a parallel interest to what I’m writing. He’s great at feeding me facts I can use, and we have something we can finally share enthusiastically, both ways. That NASA dad took one look at S after his speech and said, “You know how many of the engineers and designers I work with over there probably started out just like him? Most of them.” He also told S that he was just about the right age to make that Mars dream happen. Right now, a project is in the works with a speculated landing date of about 30 years from now. S has been going around telling everyone about it for the past week since their conversation. Ah, my son — the future rocket scientist, spaceship designer, and astronaut.

All of this must have been written in the stars.

Oct 27

8 Comments

Cathy: Sweet Surprises

I get it now. Or have I said this before?

I still need to go at my snail’s pace, but in keeping the pace steady, I am immersed. A little bit of writing in my manuscript most days is realistic with constant interruptions. Regularly communing with others at least online as well as scheduling virtual writing dates, keeps my mind set on the path. Also, it helps me to know that I’m not really sitting alone in the dark, even if I’m sitting alone in the room with wiggly baby on my lap, typing one handed.

My characters are coming back to life in a way I had long forgotten when I hit my first big bump that made me unintentionally set this gig aside years ago. Scenes I never intended are beginning to write themselves into the story while I sit back and go, “Hmm, so that’s why I wrote her in way back then.” or “Gee, THAT was unexpected!”

I’m finding that it’s going a lot like the way I cook. I follow the recipe or the rules of writing quite a bit, but when it comes down to it, there is quite a lot of improv, too. Like today, I baked a cake while measuring half-assed, dumped a boulder of sugar into the batter by accident, and the flour spilled over, too, which I didn’t really sift. Then I threw choc chips in just because I felt like it, and voila! An ugly, lopsided, yet delicious cake emerged from the oven. The boys, my audience, didn’t care what it looked like or how it got there. They just got off their respective busses, came in, and oo’ed that something smelled good, and promptly stuffed a piece in their mouths. One even said, “Chocolate chips? I’ll get a glass of milk to go with that!” So, it turned into a healthy snack, too.

In the writing today I ended up with three or more completely unexpected scenes: the bully did not punch the main character as I thought I’d be writing since day one, but kicked a kickball into the face of his friend, a girl, hard enough to stop the game and send her to the nurse. The nurse suddenly became the confidante of the three who get the brunt of the bullying. And the evildoer’s sidekick is turning his game face over to the good side sooner than I anticipated. Who knew? Certainly not I, and you’d think I had some control of the situation, seeing as I’m making it up as I go, right?

Above is a new Wordle of my work in progress. I find Wordle to not only be a fun waste of time, but a good editing tool. Now I can see how much of my most important and frequent words are drek which needs to be cut at some point when I begin to fine-tune it. But that’s later. First I just want to get the plot down from beginning to end. Page 60 and counting…

Oct 14

6 Comments

Cathy: Music to soothe the savage breast

In eons past, before the advent of my own set of children in my life, listening to music was a huge part of my writing process. What kind I listened to affected the mood of what I wrote. What mood I wrote in was enhanced by the music I would pop into my tape player — boom box of old. Now, my kids are noisy, especially my young S. His is a world of noisemaking used to cope with the onslaught of noise the world makes and which he finds difficult to walk through without making his own to tune out the rest. Therefore, whenever I have time to myself (ha-ha), over the last several years since his noisemaking started, I have bathed myself in quiet.

In working on my longer project again, I have rediscovered that music can be a great influence on the writing, and very inspiring. I find my main character’s mother is and hums Mozart’s “A Little Night Music.” His father is Dave Brubeck’s “Take 5” or “Modern Jazz Quartet, In Concert.” Years ago, when I started writing this book, I was listening to Miles Davis’s “A Kind of Blue.” Now my main character walks his dog to Shubert’s “Trout Quintet.” Sometimes I poke around the internet for jazz or acoustic folk and rock selections on college radio webcasts or streaming audio, whatever the correct term is. Thinking about what I listen to for writing has made me very curious to know what you all may be listening to, or not when you are creating. So I’d like to propose a conversation:

What do you listen to when you are creating? How does what you are listening to affect your creativity?

Oct 7

14 Comments

Cathy: 24 ways to avoid your manuscript

Distractions after announcement of finding the creative groove:

  1. Joined Obama campaign as a volunteer.
  2. Sleep deprivation from Baby C, even though we started her on foods very successfully.
  3. Now, if she’d only poop a good one. It’s been days. Poopwatch.
  4. Wrote a letter of recommendation for a friend’s aspie son to get into a good private school, since he’s having such a hard time in public and homeschooling combo.
  5. Baby C’s wellness visit and wait in the lobby for popular Dr B. who really takes the tiiiiiime with aaaaaall his patients.
  6. Mom time hair appointment — 2.5 glorious hours talking the ear off my young stylist with no kids and flipping through vapid fashion magazines.
  7. Take S to Taekwando, sit there 2x per week to help redirect him to stay focused.
  8. Obama Rally, need I say more?
  9. Sleep deprivation from the Red Sox in the playoffs. Hate that 12th inning stretch.
  10. Take K to his own hair appointment, same stylist, poor thing. The stylist, I mean.
  11. Then take him to a birthday party movie sleepover while:
  12. He tells me about how he’s waiting to hear if he has a girlfriend. GIRLFRIEND?!
  13. And by the way, thanks mom, my new haircut makes me look sexy  SEXY?!
  14. Mom. Mom, mom, mom,mom,mom,mom, mom.
  15. Take S out to decommissioned air and space craft park since he missed out on the rally.
  16. Got my period for the first time since July 2007. Ain’t pregnancy and nursing grand?
  17. Must bake cookies and eat even more sugar. And pasta. Lots of pasta.
  18. Walk the dog. Throwing that one in for good measure.
  19. Break up sibling fights.
  20. Laundry, always laundry
  21. Cooking. Or getting dh to cook, really I should just take care of it myself. But I’m nursing. See?
  22. Did I miss anything?
  23. Oh yeah, new tv season. Sucked in to the new episodes of Oprah, Ellen and what’s on tonight?  Dancing with the Stars. Oh, I really hate myself now!
  24. Facebook.

Now that’s out of the way, I hope I can write this week! Good luck to the rest of you in your creative endeavors!

Oct 2

6 Comments

Cathy: Waiting game

Finally, I got into a pretty good groove working on the manuscript. I do still seem to go in fits and starts, but at least there’s progress. I’m no longer caught up in how do I get from here…to there? Now I know what I want to see from here to there. I got past the hump of being afraid of my own voice, especially going into split personality mode in order to write for the characters. Believe it or not, I even got past the I’m not good enough/who do you think you are/who wants to hear what you have to say voice.

Now I wait when I’m not actively writing. I wait for Baby C to nap. I wait for my mother-in-law to not play a particularly noisy computer game. I wait for the boys to go find something else to do or be in school, so I don’t have to constantly field arguments or wait for the inevitable explosion if I leave them to settle it themselves. I wait for my dear S to stop “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. (- yes, S -) When I make my spaceship for K and I to travel through the galaxies in, there’s not going to be enough room for you to come too.” I wait for the dog to stop begging for attention, and I wait for no one to bug me about anything to do with the house. I wait for K to stop coming over saying, “Are you gonna be done soon, so I can check my email/write in Word/do this assignment from an online text?” for the fourth or fifth time in the past hour. I wait for Honey to come home and take Baby C and the boys elsewhere for just another thirty minutes, please.

And I wait for the inspiration I feel in my head and heart to find my fingers. That little behind the gut butterfly shows me images in my head, but isn’t ready to come out of its own chrysalis just yet. By the way, the last of those monarch caterpillars left my yard about a week after the first five. I wait for the leaves to show the first inkling of changing the season from summer to fall. I wait and realize I have never given myself this much patience before.

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