axisorleans: (Default)
The things I do for my friends. *sighs*

I really want a friend to finish a book she's working on. (No, I am not my friend. She's a totally different person and not one living in my head, either.) It's a great idea for a book, she's a wonderful writer and I think finishing it will be very therapeutic for her. So far, so good, right?

Right.

*cues the theme to Jaws*

So of course, this is where things start to get...challenging. To say the least.

She's one of those writers who needs external motivation to stay on track. That's right, she needs deadlines set by other people, with other people holding her accountable. 

*I enter, stage right*

I'm another person. I've even been a professional editor. And I am totally convinced the idea she has will be her breakthrough work as well as being totally cathartic. That is, it will be as long as she finishes it by the end of 2014. Are you still hearing Jaws music? I am.

Anyway, being me, and with the best of intentions, we struck a deal. She'll finish her book before Yule. And I'll finish a book of her choice during the same time. I know, stupid of me. I have books in progress that I really should finish. But she doesn't think any of them will really put me on the profitable map. She's convinced, for reasons I don't really understand, that I need to be writing racy romance. And not just any racy romance. She's pushing me to write for Ellora's Cave. in other words: erotic romance. I'm just not sure I want to. Heck, even if I did want to, I'm not sure I can.

*dramatic sigh*

It gets worse, impossible as that might be to believe. It turns out EC has a call for submissions out. Actually, there are three. One of them is for Screamers which are stories about things that go bump in the night, because, let's face it, who doesn't like some lust with their blood and mayhem? Well...me. Maybe. I've been struggling all week to wrap my head around what a horror romance is. And I still don't know. Which makes it really hard to come up with a BIG IDEA for a book that I need to have an ugly draft of by the middle of November. So I should probably get to work.

The things I do for my friends.
axisorleans: (Default)
Coming home has yielded some interesting, and unexpected, information. Almost everyone I grew up with is shorter and wider than I remember. I suppose that could mean that I'm taller than I think I am. Maybe I kept growing after high school, which seems strange. I know it's not my shoes. It could be my posture, or theirs. Life has certainly weighed heavy on some of them. Which isn't to say mine has been all sunshine and roses. It hasn't. I just managed to stand tall through it all. Probably because someone told me the worst thing you can do when the world is shooting at you is put your core lower where it's more likely to get hit. In other words, you're more likely to survive a wounded limb that getting shot in the chest, stomach or head. Odd that my survival instincts picked that one up.

Whatever the reason, my memories are taller. And thinner. But that one I understand. No one, well practically no one, is thinner in their 40s than they were in their teens. Just being the same weight, give or take 5 pounds is a great accomplishment. So that we are all a bit wider is not a big surprise. I suppose being wider could account for some of the loss of height. Thin, generally speaking, looks taller. Except when it's my BFF from preschool all the way through high school graduation. Then again, I don't think there has been any change of weight in either direction there.

I don't know what I was expecting when I moved home. What I discovered is that I don't feel like I've changed as much as the people I grew up with have. I don't feel as old as some of them look. Not that I look like a teenager. But some of these people look...old. Like my parents. Now. Not then. My parents then looked way younger than some of my friends do now. Which really ought to scare or disappoint someone. 

I guess I could congratulate myself on aging...well. Of course, I never wanted to grow up so aging well isn't as much of a compliment as not growing up at all. And maybe that's the real reason everyone seemed taller. They loomed large in my life then. Now they are...just people I used to know.


axisorleans: (Graffiti)
So, Change of Plans: seems I'm destined for another winter in the frozen tundra of the middle America. Which sucks, since it's already getting colder. I'm wearing jackets and tights to work. Then again, that could be the lingering effects of the A/C which has been set at frigid all summer. Still. Not happy.

Except I'm sleeping better and feeling more relaxed. Or at least, less anxious which is just as good as more relaxed. It also explains the sleeping. I don't think I'm depressed though that could be an option I suppose. But really, it doesn't feel like depression or even a funk though apparently I was in one before the plans changed.
Sisco Eye Roll

Maybe I was forcing things. I do that. Just forge ahead with things once I've made a decision and (sometimes) contrary to the evidence. It's one of the biggest problems with overthinking. I can twist myself up over just about anything without intending to or even realizing it (ok I usually realize it at some point but can never quite figure our how to stop it). It's also a flaw in my approach to life which has me move towards things that scare me. I can't always tell the difference between scared/excited, overthinking angst and "bad idea/not right now" vibes. And that really sucks, unless you're lucky enough to have someone around to deliver the proverbial smack upside the head and say "um, yeah, no" or "why don't you wait/pause and think this through again?" or whatever it is they do that derails my plans. Fortunately, I have a few of those people in my life.

One of them stepped up this weekend. 

Sure, I could, maybe even should, be upset at the wrench in the works. And this may be nothing more than me making excuses to myself as much as anyone else for the situation. It stings, knowing I care more than I am cared for. If that's true, which I'm not convinced of. Because frankly, if it was totally true, plans wouldn't have changed. I'd be going along my merry moving way and eventually things would blow up in my face as usual. This way I at least avoided the explosion. And it's not that anything has changed. My address is the same. My situation, which is very good (low overhead, decent paying job, limited personal and professional responsibilities, plenty of time and funds for travel and side projects) remains the same. And relationship-wise things are status quo, which is probably best. 

And no, I'm not be facetious or kind. I thrive in long distance relationships. They balance my need for intensity and for solitude. Both of which I need in greater quantities than most people. So sticking with a long distance relationship is...ok. It may even be best though admittedly I do get lonely. More in the summer than in the winter although that may be nothing more than the fact that I really hate getting out of bed in the winter unless I absolutely have to. Give me a pile of books, some interesting projects to work on, some great yarn and lots of coffee and I am a happy camper from November until April/May. Usually. We'll see if that holds true this year. 

So my plans have changed and while I'm disappointed, I can't really be too upset. At least, not until the first snowstorm. Then all bets are off.

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axisorleans

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