Author Page! And Other Stuff...

I officially made and official Author Page over on Facebook. I'm not sure this was the right thing to do, since I don't have any books out (besides the poetry anthology, Poetry Pact 2011, which you can buy here, if you like poetry. It's modest, but has come great poets (not me) involved, and poems that range from complex to Byron and Frost-type (me) and is a fun read) out but since so many submissions ask about Author pages and how many followers one has, and so on and so forth, I thought I ought to have an official page. At the very least, I can try to start accruing followers and such. If you're feeling kindly, please go here, and follow me.

The 'other stuff' is mostly just musing about how difficult it is to keep writing sometimes. Not difficult as in, you've got writer's block, or anything like that, but difficult as in, you've got so many stories in your head that want to be written, but you don't know which one should be the next one. There are so many options here, and I find myself flickering back and forth between several. Currently, it's between A Life Once Borrowed, which is a contemporary (with magical elements, though just how much magical elements is still unclear) inspired by the Scottish ballad, The Daemon Lover, and a completely new WIP, tentatively titled The Weight of a Shadow, which is much more fantasy. I'm also continuing to plug along with the Castalia memoir, and the super secret project.

Also, it's always interesting to find out that you were walking around with an injury you didn't know you had. Since I'm now off the blood thinners, I've finally gone to PT for what we thought was rhomboid pain, which has been causing me an increasing number of severe headaches. After initial treatment of the rhomboid and neck issue my PT guy traced the origin of the trouble back to a lump that I've had for about seven years, since a tragically clumsy 'almost' fall in the shower. Turns out that lump, is not one, but two torn muscles, which have subsequently scared and developed adhesions to the structures around them. Nice. On the upside, at least we discovered this now, as opposed to five or ten years from now, at which point, there might not be a way to fix things. And my shoulder is healing. I'll have PT for another couple of weeks but already the torn area is beginning to resolve and the lump is less than half the size it was.

And, because life is always better with old lady cats, here's a random photo of Face, who often sits with me while I'm writing. A fitting copilot when I'm working on the Castalia memoir. 17 years young, she is. And still death to any mouse she sees, as well as random feet.

Life is Like Herding Cats...

Have you ever tried to herd cats? Have you ever stood back and watched someone ELSE try to herd cats? (If you're smart, this is the way to go, less sweat, no fur on your clothes and the only lasting side effect is aching sides the next day from your hysterical laughter) I have had the incomparable experience of trying to herd cats. It involved diabolical plans of entrapment (none of which even came close to working) extensive maneuvering (forget the 'four legs versus two thing' I couldn't outrun a cat if I had eight legs) and enough moments of physical insanity to net me the million dollars on America's Funniest Home Videos. No, the cat's never went where they were supposed to. They're cats. And cats don't go where they're supposed to. If they did, they'd be dogs.

Anyway, the point of all that was to say that life is a lot like herding cats. You can plan. You can plot. You can run around waving your arms over your head squalling like a bimbo. But life is going to ignore you and do what it pleases. That's just the way it goes. Recently, my life has been completely ignoring me. It's just been doing its own thing, dragging me along like a sock on a string. Like a cat, it apparently only claims me when there's food involved.

I've at least been writing, between obsessively checking my email and mud wresting with my logline and pitch, which are entered in the contest that's been going on over at Adventures in Children's Publishing. And of course, I've been running mad at the farm. It's show season. And now the owner (who's in her late eighties) has decided to breed a mare... never mind that the stallion is thirty (the equivalent to a ninety year old man) and it's so late in the year that the mare isn't cycling like she ought to be. It makes for one long, never-ending adventure to be sure. And I've had no control over it. But sometimes not having control over things is good. Sometimes, you need to be a little out of control. Out of control puts you out of the box, because you're no longer bound by 'normal' circumstances.

It's a little tiring though... I'm looking forward to Sirens, which is coming up in October. I'll be staying with friends for the week following the conference. They live in Montrose and will drive up to fetch me from Vail and haul me off into the unknown for Jeeping, camping, rock climbing and bananas only know what else. I can't wait. I told them, 'As soon as that car door shuts, my tuchus belongs to you. Do with me what you will'. They're plotting even as we speak. That's what friends do. They kidnap each other from reality, when reality needs to take a hike, and they don't return you until you're ready to deal with that pesky thing called 'life' again.

Just remember, if you ever decide to attempt herding cats: 100% cotton clothes, less fur will stick to them. Rubber soled shoes, they'll give you more grip for all of those cutting horse moves you'll be doing. And catnip. Sometimes cats - and life - respond better to bribes than outright chasing...