Back to School...and Work

 My five year old began school last week, which caused no small amount of anxiety in the household. It's been just as rough for us as it has been on him, I think. Sending our little boy out into the great big world to experience some small level of independence is scary. 

I've been a work from home dad for eleven years, now. There's a lot to be said for being your own boss and taking control of your own fate...but there's also something to be said for stability in the form of not putting the entire world on your shoulders.

Over the past several weeks I have had a stirring inside of me as I continue my own mental health recovery process. It has led me down the avenue of searching for a job outside the home. To that extent I took a shot in the dark and am about to go to work for the good old USPS. It will be part time to start, which is perfect. Still, it ads no small amount of stress to the household. 

I am wondering what it is going to do to my writing schedule, but not overly concerned. I have always taken the 'trench writing' approach; writing whenever I get a small stretch of silence so I can think. I don't imagine it will be much different whether I am delivering mail or chasing a small child around the house.

Draft one of The Dreaming Sea is in the home stretch. I'm over 70,000 words in and beginning the wrap up chapters. I'd be lying if I said it was a great draft, but it is a start. I already have a litany of changes for draft two, including shifting the focus from one character to another and probably eliminating the chapter that I am currently writing, altogether. Being a writer is so frustrating before it becomes rewarding.

Personally, I am feeling much better these days. My mental health has largely stabilized and my thinking has been clarifying with each day. It's like emerging from a fog bank and finding a whole world that I couldn't see through the depression.

Here's to all the adventures that still await.

Until next time.

I Did a Thing

Before I began writing Maestra I came up with a concept of an anthology series of very short stories, roughly 3,000 to 5,000 words. It would be Science Fiction themed and all involve stories with lessons built into them from Humanity's first attempt to colonize an alien world. 

While drafting Maestra I didn't do a whole lot with it other than create a bit of an outline. Last weekend, when I finally put the final draft of Maestra to rest I set out to write the first short story in the series before going on a hiatus.

It didn't take me very long to write up a couple of drafts and edit, so here is the first entry!

It is available on Amazon Kindle and Kindle Unlimited. It is 99 cents to purchase or free through the Kindle Unlimited option if you subscribe to that service. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08FBRWQVF

I will eventually put more stories up in the series. 

This story serves as a nice bridge to my next project, which will be a full length science fiction novel, tentatively looking to release in Summer 2021 (if there is still a world by then.)

Now a break for a few days before I begin my edits on Maestra.

Admitting What We Really Are

Last night I caught myself babbling to myself in the kitchen as I was fixing my dinner at 10pm. It all made sense to me. I was working out dialogue from the chapter I'm writing. My kitten was by my feet, waiting for some shreds of cheese and intently fixated on her daddy. She may have been wondering if I was having a stroke or breakdown, but was likely just waiting for me to open the bag of cheddar jack and spill some on the floor for her.

I realized what I had been doing and chuckled to myself. It would look pretty weird but I catch myself doing this kind of thing fairly often. I've also been known to zone out for minutes at a time, lost somewhere in the pages of my work in progress. I'll rouse from my reverie as my wife is shooting daggers at me for vacantly looking at a wall while she is talking to me or asking me a question.

Maybe I'm alone in this, as a writer, but I kind of doubt it. I think it's time that we all stand up and admit that we are a different breed of human being. I have come to terms with the fact that I am eccentric and am learning to embrace it. I've always been a bit aloof (which is probably why my wife's stuffy ragdoll cat and I get along so well,) but over the past year I have noticed more and more often that I will start thinking about something involving my stories and mentally leave the world around me for a few minutes.

Saturday we had some company up at the lake and we were all playing with the kids out in the lake. I caught myself wandering away from the group as I was contemplating how to add a romantic side story to part 3 of Maestra that didn't exist in the first draft. It kind of hit me out of nowhere and I didn't even realize that I silently left my group of friends, wandering out past a buoy in contemplation of how to add depth to my writing.

I'm curious if other writers find themselves doing similar things like this. I doubt I am alone in this. Regardless, I'm ready and willing to finally admit what I am:

Eccentric, aloof, solitary, quiet, reflective, obtuse, quizzical, introspective...in other words; a Writer!

Let's admit it: We're a touch odd. I am fine with it and wouldn't have it any other way (my wife might.)