Going Dark

That's me wishing winter wasn't coming, that summer was still here and I could sit outside and look at the moon without worrying about it being too cold and wet.

That's also me feeling some weight on my shoulders.

And it's also me knowing things in my life need to change.

The truth is, I have a job within my church that requires a lot of my time and sacrifice. I also want to write and publish and blog. I also want to love my family and friends and give them all the time I can. I also want to network and show the friends I've met online how much I care and love them, too.

So far, the comments in the post below (that explains much of this post) have completely blown me away. Who are you people? How are you so amazing and understanding and loving when most of you haven't even met me? Each and every comment is heartfelt and not just put out there in some vague way to comfort. I'm speechless.

As much as I want to continue hanging around in the blogosphere, I need some serious time away. I've noticed many writers feeling this way lately. People, if your blog becomes anything other than fun, you're doing something wrong. You should never feel competitive. You should never be reading blogs instead of spending time with your family or writing. You should never feel like people are going to forget about you or care less about you because you need to step away.

I finally know this.

This blog will be going dark for a few months - meaning I won't be posting or reading blog posts for quite awhile. I will most likely be posting a few things over on The Literary Lab, especially as our Genre Wars short fiction contest gets underway. However, in the meantime, please know I'm keeping an eye on anything big that you announce on your own blogs. And know I'll be back. Probably when winter lifts.

Love you all,

Michelle aka Lady Glamis
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A Rift

Sorry, this is long, but I'm going through major drama in my head these past few days and I've just got to get it out. Don't feel obligated to read if you're not up to it.

First of all, I posted this over on my personal blog. Since it's all writing related, I need to put it here, too.

A few years ago I took a class that was supposed to teach me how to deal with pain. Sitting in the cramped living room of the teacher’s home, I remember the smell of macaroni and cheese mixed with strong perfumes and nervous breaths. It was a hypnobirthing class – to teach me how to have my baby without any drugs. I learned how to sink into self-induced hypnosis. I learned how to ignore pain. When the teacher came around with an alligator clip (you know, the little clips you can use to clip an ID card to your shirt) and pinched the top of our hands, I hardly felt it. It worked. I was absolutely certain I could have Darcy naturally.

I was wrong.

It seems I have been wrong about a lot of things lately. For the past two years, in fact. It also seems that not only have I been wrong, but I’ve been completely oblivious that I was wrong. You see, I have this dream of being a published novelist. Many people have the dream. Many people are chasing after it. Many people fail, and I’m beginning to see why.

Because chasing after our dreams is sometimes a really stupid idea, and sometimes we get the timing all wrong, and sometimes we completely screw up everything else that’s important.

Or maybe I should say I.

I’ve chased after a dream. I’ve timed it wrong. I’ve completely screwed up everything else that’s important.

I’ve made sacrifices for something that maybe isn’t worth it.

A few years ago I entered the American Fork Hospital, soaked down to my knees because my water had broken. I was so relaxed, so easy-going, so happy to finally have my baby. I brought my CDs of relaxing music. I was backed up with months of practice. I knew how to ignore the pain, how to ride it out until I made it to my goal.

Then I panicked.

I paced the hospital room feeling like I was being torn in half. I literally thought I was going to die. I screamed at Adam. I screamed at the nurse. I screamed at myself. I was so angry at myself for cracking, for thinking I could complete this journey with no pain. I thought I could ignore it forever. I thought sacrifices weren’t necessary.

I paid for it later, with three months of serious depression. I think only Adam knows how deep I sank after Darcy was born. But that’s over. I felt more deeply then than I have in my entire life. I know pain is impossible to avoid.

What’s my point?

I’m panicking. I’ve been in some sort of hypnosis for the past two years since I decided to chase my writing dream. In reality, I’ve been chasing the dream my entire life, and it’s only beginning to peak. The problem is that I’m losing things because of it. I’m losing friends. I’m losing time with my family. I’m losing passion for my religion, for everyone who surrounds me.

When do we know we’ve gone too far? When do I know I’ve gone too far?

When I panic – that’s how I know. When the pain finally comes.

This afternoon I had a nice long cry on my bed. Darcy came in and gave me a glass of water and asked if she could kiss me better.

And I knew. I knew right then that I’d gone too far, that ignoring people I used to spend time with isn’t worth it, that changing my life for a few thousand words isn’t worth it, that seeing loneliness in my husband’s eyes every night he comes home from work isn’t worth it. Most of all I knew that the kiss my daughter wanted to put on my cheek to make everything better actually would make everything better. If I let it.

The problem is I don’t know how to fix things, how to say I’m sorry, how to erase this person I’ve become. I’m so confused that I don’t even know if I want to erase what I am.

Maybe it has to do with being humble. Maybe it has to do with a huge knock upside my head. But, actually, I think it has more to do with change and progression and understanding. We all change, every day, every month, every year. We grow, we fall back, but we keep stumbling forward. There are things that keep us breathing and smiling — our religion, family, friends, talents. These are the things that should never, ever change. But sometimes they do, and I don't know how to stop it from happening. I don't know how to fix it.

I think, in a way, I’m still sitting in that living room smelling pasta and perfume. I’m still under the delusion that something worth having can be done without pain and sacrifice. In a way I’m still hoping I can avoid losing something. In a way I want to be the person I pretend I am – that talented girl who’s got it all together.

In reality I’m scared to death to be her. I don’t even know who she is.

I'm not sure what to do with myself, obviously. I'm not sure if I should quit blogging, just focus on my writing and no networking, if I should quit writing for a few months, shelve my current novel altogether, just work on short stories, focus only on my family, or come up with some elaborate schedule that allows me to fit everything into my life.

For right now I'm tired. I'm so tired of trying to make myself and everybody else happy. Where is the medium I've been trying to find forever? Why do so many of my family members and friends who don't write not understand this need to write - that it takes So. Much. Time. And so much of myself? That I'm dying inside every time I know I'm giving up something else to work on my book?

What good is a sacrifice that may never be validated, and why do I feel like I'd die if I stopped writing?

So many questions. You don' t have to answer any of them. This is just me putting myself out there. Because I'm a writer. This is what I do.
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Cats

It seems the strangest of nights,
this night,
the night I found you
in your bed,
your eyes open
to the ceiling and
no pulse at your wrists
or neck or temples.

I have found blood in the
hallway. I have found blood on the
walls, a knife in the sink
with the dishes,
footprints on the porch,
tire tracks in the drive, skid
marks down the road.

It is the 31st.
It is 11:58 p.m.
It is the night of the full moon.
I see trees falling. I see you
in your bed surrounded
by black cats.

-Michelle Davidson Argyle, 10/26/02


Happy Halloween everyone! What's your favorite part of Halloween? I like the skeleton trees and the creepy moon covered with misty clouds. I like the nip in the air . . . and all the candy. Can't wait for tomorrow!
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Buried Just a Bit

photo by the amazing rent-a-moose on flikr

I am buried in edits. They're kind of suffocating me as I sink farther down down down down. Editing an entire manuscript (with lots of revisions, too) can look larger than the 11,749 foot mountain outside my window. And I've climbed it before, many times. This book, though - it feels bigger.

I don't have much time to blog; I'm staying up later and losing sleep; my husband must think I've been sucked into the computer permanently.

Sigh.

This is just a post to get out my frustration.

On the bright side, the edits are beautiful, the book is better than any novel I've attempted, and I've got a bright future, as some people have told me. All is well.
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His Voice

Awhile back, I talked about doing edits by having my husband read out loud to me. I said I'd blog about the experience, so here I go.

First of all, did we make it through the book?

No.

Was reading aloud helpful?

Oh, yes.

We didn't make it through the book because (1) we have a three year old who has decided to quit taking naps, (2) my husband's new job training gets him home at 12:30 a.m. every night, and (3) my husband is still in school. This basically means we have no time to read, and I got antsy. End of story.

However, we were able to get through the first 1/3 of the book, and here's what I discovered:


Be Awake and Excited
My husband's voice is incredibly sexy if he's not super exhausted. If he is, then, well, he kind of slurs his way through stuff and it wasn't very helpful. Otherwise, his voice is amazing; he's an actor. He knows where to inflect the right things. Whoever is reading your work to you needs to be excited about it and have the proper amount of rest. Hah.


Inflect!
If somebody's going to read your work out loud to you, make sure they have a general idea of the story and character's personalities so they can give the proper tone to your work. My husband is very aware of how Monarch should read, so he did a great job with this.


Don't Edit
Just listen and make mental notes. If something's important enough to change, you'll remember it. Stopping to write something down or discuss it kind of ruins the flow of the story. The whole point is to feel and hear how it flows.


Read Aloud Yourself
I did discover one thing - I don't really need my husband to read my stuff out loud to me. I read a chapter out loud to him, and it was just as effective. So from now on I'll be reading my work aloud to myself to catch things I wouldn't catch otherwise - dialogue that's off, sentence structures that aren't working, plot and character inconsistencies. Amazing what pops off the page with the aid of a voice.

It's helpful to have someone read aloud to you - because you'll hear a few more things that aren't working, but if that's not working, reading to yourself can work great, too.

note: If you read aloud to yourself (or aloud to someone else who's willing to listen), don't edit as you go. I just made mental notes, then when I went right back through that chapter again, I remembered everything I'd thought of the first time. Your brain, amazingly enough, files away important things.


Wait
I don't think reading aloud is necessary in the first drafts of your novel. I'm thinking about somewhere halfway between the first draft and querying. This will help you catch things that are established enough to see, but still easy enough to change.
___________


Monarch has given me quite the journey thus far. I thought I was going to put it aside for awhile, but now I have good reason to keep editing it (many of you know why) to make it really shine and knock the socks off its readers. Although I might think my writing is utter crap most of the time, it's got potential. Read this essay, Annie Dillard and the Writing Life, from The Morning News. It's, well, amazing.

In other news, I'm going to go even lighter on the blogging for the next few months. This means I won't be reading as many blogs or posting as much here. I'm trying to potty train my daughter, I'm up to my eyeballs in edits, and it's the holidays. I still keep my eyes on my Reader so I know what's going on with all of you! I'll comment when I can.


Question For The Day: Have you tried reading aloud, either to yourself or someone else (or someone reading your work to you)? How has it helped you? If you haven't tried this, what's the best editing technique you've found to catch elusive problems?
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Straining Against the Leash

The Dog
The other evening I was walking my parent's dog, a beautiful Aussie Shepherd (not what's pictured above). The air was nice and crisp, the leaves bright against the deep blue sky. I was pushing my daughter in her stroller and had the dog on a leash wrapped around my wrist.

Yank.

Yank.

Yank.

Ugh! That dog. I swear, she thinks the entire walk is a yank fest. She has to sniff things every five feet. She has to pee on everybody's lawn. She has to stretch. that. leash. to. its. LIMIT. The whole walk.

Needless to say, my wrist and fingers are sore every time we finish a walk. I know she's a dog, and that's what dogs do, but it's a constant battle. I've given up trying to teach her how to heel or obey much of anything. It makes my nice relaxing walk not so relaxing.


The Writer (as likened to the dog...)
I got into blogging a year and a half ago. About every fourth or fifth blog I read talked about publishing. Everywhere I turned I saw these constant, desperate cries to get an agent, be published, recognized! Well, and I had to admit, I'd done it too.

Yank.

Yank.

Yank.

Yes, people. We can be as bad as my parent's Aussie. The publishing industry moves at a snail's pace (compared to how many of us would like it to move). And guess what? That's normal. It's not slow to irritate you. Agents aren't rejecting you to make your life miserable. Your writing isn't keeping itself from excelling at a superhuman rate just to frustrate you. Writing takes time. There's a crisp, blue sky you should be enjoying, fresh air you should be savoring instead of gulping down as if you're in a race to the finish line.

You see, I realized something on my walk the other night. It's not just the path I should be enjoying. It's not that I get annoyed at myself for wanting to be published. Now. Right Now. Right Now.

No, it's that if I want to be traditionally published, I'm going to have to play by the rules, and to play by the rules I'm going to have to recognize them first. One of those rules is time. The other one is hard work and patience - not only with myself, but the industry.

All I know is the dog that keeps straining on my arm is really annoying. I wish she'd just stop for a second and realize that we could both breathe better if she'd slow down and walk at a calm pace that works for both of us.


Question For The Day: I'm off for Unplugged Week, but feel free to leave your comments since I will respond when I get back. Have you, like I have, felt yourself straining against the leash? How have you dealt with it? Hope you all have a great week and that I haven't made all the dog lovers out there mad at me...
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NaNoReaMo

Okay, folks. Many of you have asked me if I'm doing National Novel Writing Month this year. The answer's no. Instead, I'm reading. Reading. Reading. I have a whole stack of novels next to my bed, and I need to immerse myself in them without worrying about what I should be writing instead.

So if you're not writing, then read. Or be someone's cheerleader for NaNo. That's always a huge help!



Feel free to use the National Novel Reading Month button on your sidebar if you want to do NaNoReaMo!

My goal is to read at least six books in the month of November. I have no idea if I'll be able to reach that goal. I usually have a problem reading one a month. But maybe I'll do even more than six! We'll see. It doesn't really matter. I just thought it would be fun to take part in some of the excitement going on in November.

Now I need to go figure out how to make the NaNo site say I'm not participating...


Question For The Day: I know SO many of you are doing NaNo this year. Tell me at least what genre you're writing in! Or, if you're brave, let me know what your story's about. I'm interested!
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