Sunday, January 30

Some days...

Some days I hate my body.  Not for the obvious reasons, although there are certainly days I wish I was thinner, taller, sexier, prettier, younger, etc.  That doesn't mean I don't love and accept myself as I am (although I have made a solid commitment to eating healthier foods and generally taking better care of my body and if that happens to mean I loose a few pounds, well, hey, bonus, right?  I know for my own health I really should weigh less than I do, but really the goal is just to have a healthy, happy body.  That means occasionally having carrot cake for dinner because it was my birthday and it made me really happy to have carrot cake--thank you Kathy!!!!)

No, the reason I truly hate my body some days is when my hormones sabotage my mind and mood swings make me so unbearable cranky, I don't even want to be near me.  I'm not using my cycle as an excuse for bad behavior; I try to catch myself before I say or do something awful to someone else, but sometimes it creeps up on me and I don't realize how bad it is until after the damage is done.  Worse than that, however, is the cycle of... well, depression is the wrong word, but it comes close.  My husband is the one who pointed out to me that my bouts of panic, usually over money, tie directly into my cycle.  Now, I'm not saying we're all not worried about money these days, but every month, like clockwork, I am woken up in the middle of the night by my own damned hormones as they make my brain whiz and whir with anxiety over how we're going to pay for things... next year.  That's right.  It's not the bills that are due tomorrow I wake up sweating over, it's the ones that are years down the road that get me in a panic.  Which isn't say I *never* worry about next week's bills, or robe Peter to pay Paul, it's just that *usually* I've got a reasonable handle on each month as it comes.
Along with monthly bouts of "how are we going to make our mortgage payment in 20 years when my husband retires?" because we have something like 25 years left of house payments, I also get monthly bouts of "what makes me think I'm good enough to be a professional writer and artist?  My work sucks!"  Now, I know this isn't really true and I'm not actually fishing for compliments; I'm lucky enough to have a steady following of fanfiction readers that do a great job of boosting my ego (and confidence)--thank you!!!!   You guys seriously keep me going some days; it was my fanfiction readers who gave me the confidence to start working on original stories again.   (A HUGE Thank You to Motherpeace Drums for a *very* well timed kind word on my last posting of artwork.  It was exactly the lift in spirits I needed yesterday.  Thank you.)

It probably doesn't help any that I'm planning on submitting work for my first juried art show later this week and who are the professional artists on the jury?   Boris Vallejo, Julie Bell and David Palumbo.  Nothing like a little pressure.  I've often joked that while I think I'm pretty ok with a brush, I'm no Boris Vallejo.   Never in a million years did I think I would end up in a situation where Mr. Vallejo would be looking at my work!  The notion is patently terrifying.   All of the shows I have done hitherto fore have been 'pay your money and hang your work'--the good, the bad and the downright terrible are all welcome.  It still makes me queasy when I'm in a showing in the same room as Diane Steine or Robin Wood (although that hasn't happened in years)...and well, maybe not so much Robin, she's too nice a lady to be too terribly intimidating. 

Robin Wood is actually the reason I'm still painting at all.  When I first became aware of her work, I  knew her only as the lady illustrating the Scott Cunningham books; I had no idea how much fantasy art she'd done or how well known she was.  But there she was at a science fiction convention, talking to people and making everybody feel comfortable.  The backstory here is that just about a week before I met Robin for the first time, a "friend" of mine had looked down her nose at me and call me a "weekend painter".   I was just young enough to let it get to me.  Until I met Robin, a real live working artist who isn't the least bit snooty.  (Now, just a disclaimer, Robin doesn't know me from Eve's house cat; I am one of a kazillion people who used to stop by her table in the hucksters' room to say howdy.  We happen to live in the same state, so I saw her several times a year, back when I was doing science fiction conventions on a regular basis.  In this I am far from unique.)

The point is that Robin made an impact on me, and 20 years later, I haven't forgotten it.  It's part of why I try to encourage other people whenever I can; you never know when one nice word or kind gesture is going to have make a huge impact on someone's life, the kind of thing they'll remember 20 years later; the kind of thing they'll want to pass on to others, thus keeping the cycle going. 


"Write injuries in sand,
and kindnesses in marble."

~French proverb



Lastly, here are my goals for the week:  5000 words on my novel (I'm at 20,000 by the way.  It was a long haul; I was over 20,000 yesterday morning, but went back and edited some and ended up at 19,000, then this morning went back in and worked some more... so I made my goal for the week.)   I would also like to try and get another chapter of my fanfiction story posted... but no promises.  Tomorrow morning I'm at the library for a few hours, so, my Monday is mostly shot because mornings is my best time for writing.  I'm also supposed to help one of my coven mates sew this week. 

I also need to get some more painting in.  I've got a (small) show in February and I'd like to do another in Memphis in March (I'll be mailing in my work; I'm not planning on driving down, at least not at this juncture.  I'd like to, I love Memphis, but I don't see it happening.)

AND.... I want to start the final round of edits on the complete manuscript.  I'd like to get the first 25,000 words edited.  If I don't start the final round of edits (and declare this the final round of edits), I will never, ever end up submitting it anywhere.  If I don't take the plunge and submit it, it never has any kind of a chance at all of getting published... and if nobody wants to buy it, I'll self-publish.  I know that's still a dirty word (two words?)  but anybody whose been reading my blog knows how I feel about *that*. 

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