2020 - the Year That Wasn't

I have been trying to write a blog post about what the approaching end of the year means for me, emotionally and physically. It's so hard, because the year has just been a pile of crap, but so many people around the world have suffered worse. So, who am I to complain? 

I can't even touch on survivor's guilt at this point because, despite the vaccine out there, this isn't over. 

For the better part of nine months life has been suspended and we simply exist in this held breath of anticipation -- of either a cure or death. How do we reconcile all of that, psychologically? How do we handle being here while so many of our loved ones aren't? More than one in every thousand people in the United States have succumbed to Covid. That number blows my mind.

On top of all of that, people have been forced to work in environments that are pretty unsafe and dealt with all of the other 'normal' stuff in any given year. People have loved, lost, watched their homes burn, been buried in debt, buried their pets, been taken for granted and abused -- only in larger numbers. It's a consequence of psychological stress that crimes and other abuses have increased pretty drastically.

2020 is going to go down in history as the year that wasn't -- and that is the way it should be.

I have heard it from many people that they were surprised to learn about the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918-20. History has largely forgotten about it. Why? The answer is because no one WANTED to remember it after that terrible period was over. It was traumatic for the survivors and nobody wanted to dwell on it after it was over.

2020 should simply receive an asterisk in history with a footnote that reads, "It was the year without hope. That is all." We should bury this year like we have buried so many others during it. It's possible to use it as an example to be better prepared in the future for another pandemic but also brush it aside and look to the future. Honestly, it's the only way we are going to psychologically survive as individuals after going through so much. 

After the vaccination threshold for herd immunity is reached, people are going to be flooding beaches, having gatherings, and trying to feel normal again Yet, there is going to be a stigma to doing such -- a guilt that comes from how 2020 has changed us. It shouldn't. We lived. Mourn our dead and then let their memory become immortal upon the pyre of time, but don't torment yourselves for still being here. 

So, as 2020 goes out with a frustrated exhale of mental fatigue, let's allow it to be what it was without mentally caging us within it for the rest of our lives.

2021 is going to be rocky for sure but, unlike 2020, it will be a year filled with hope. You are going to be okay, and that is alright. Don't let your mind come back to this year, again. It's over. It's finally over.

All Aboard the Holiday Struggle Bus

 It's one day away from December and a lot of us are probably already in the same boat. Not quite a week after Thanksgiving and we are feeling just as stuffed as the Turkeys we popped out of the oven and down our gullets. We're at the point where we are slowing down, getting behind on routines, and pet projects are being brushed in favor of holiday festivities -- albeit socially distanced this year. It's easy to get lost in everything going on around us -- on top of the crap show that already is 2020.

I've been struggling with motivation for months and it has only been compounded by the holiday shopping, cooking, unhealthy snacking, and general seasonal blase that I go through every winter.

Writers and other creatives really struggle this time of year, adding to increased chances of suffering from seasonal affected disorder and general stress.

True, family stress might seem to be reduced this season as many people are opting not to gather with relatives for the holidays but the truth may be just the opposite. What's the number one gift that family gives to one another? Guilt. If you think guilt won't be an issue this year, you might want to think again. Seeing grandma's sad face over that zoom call isn't going to make you feel any better while stuffing gingerbread men in your mouth with only your pets to watch you this year.

We're all in a predicament this year. So, how do we combat it to get ourselves back on track?

1. Try giving yourself dedicated time to indulge yourself in your hobbies.

It doesn't necessarily have to be writing or anything as complex as creating something to start. Put together a puzzle, read a book, watch a movie. The important thing is that you need to have a safe space to turn your brain off and let it rest. Stress is a monster that eats away at creativity and relaxing your mind will go a long way toward healing it enough for motivation to come back. You may find that as you indulge in this restful time that you have an urge to create -- go for it! If not, then just kick back and relax with this dedicated time. If you repeat it enough you may feel the spark come back.

2. Don't let outside forces make you feel guilty for doing the right thing.

This is easier said than done. We have a whole lot of pressure on us to behave a certain way. In this trying time most of us have opted to stay safe and do our part to get through this pandemic. Yet, we all have friends and family that don't understand that and will do their best to guilt or shame us into doing something we don't want to do. You're not a bad person or a monster for saying no. Find a way to connect with other people who are going through the same situation. Social media is filled with folks who are dealing with these same struggles. Some treat it with humor, others need a virtual shoulder to lean on. It's okay. It's also okay to acknowledge the guilt and that it's okay to NOT be okay right now. Nothing about this time in our lives is normal.

3. The kids are driving you nuts? Super parent needs to take a rest and give in to compromise. 

For generations parents have been mocked when letting the kids watch too much tv or play video games, but in all honesty these are no normal times and if you live in a frozen tundra for several months of the year "go outside and play" isn't always an option. Here in Michigan we can experience weeks at a time where going outside to play isn't an option. Don't feel guilty for giving the kids games and videos to experience. Try to balance it with books and educational materials but our kids are going through the stress of this pandemic with us. They internalize a lot of it, and react far differently from it than we do, but it doesn't mean that they aren't suffering. They need an outlet, and if that outlet is sniping zombies in a virtual environment then they should be allowed that opportunity. A content child is going to be far less clingy and will allow dad or mom the space necessary to engage in their own stress mitigation steps or hobbies.

4. What if you're motivated but don't have the time for your craft?

This is a boat that I am almost always in. I have writing that I want to do, but it's hard to find the time to hide away and scribe. I call my solution 'guerrilla creativity.' I will often leave my chromebook open and handy. If my 4 year old is heading into the bathroom to take a wicked poop I will open it up and get a few sentences down. WHEW! 50 words! Not a lot of progress, right? No, but if you can find ten times throughout the course of a day to jump back to your work in a similar manner you can turn those 50 words into 500. A child's bedtime is also a great opportunity to spend even just a few moments working.

5. Leave the phone out of the room when you're writing or creating.

I see this a LOT on social media: "I should be writing but here I am on Twitter." Listen, this may come as a surprise but for every benefit smartphone technology has gifted upon us it has brought about an equally detrimental habit. I didn't even begin my writing career until after I deleted facebook a year and a half ago. After I did that I published 2 books. That's a whole lot of wasted time dickering with social media that I could have spent starting this career earlier in life. I'm not telling everyone to delete social media. It is necessary for some people to stay in touch, particularly in this socially distanced year, but there are times the phone shouldn't be with you. In this one respect treat your alone time as respectfully as you would treat a funeral or a job. Leave the phone silenced and, if possible, out of the room. If you don't feel comfortable going that far then just make sure it's only set to ring for emergencies. The whole point is to eliminate distractions and temptations. Once you take away that deliciously tempting toy your mind will naturally focus more on what you want to accomplish. 

This is only a partial list of ways for creatives to cope. We live in a weird world right now. We always say to try to be kind to one another, but it is equally important to be kind to ourselves. Take care of the foundation of your career/hobby -- that means you.

Wading Through Life and its Inevitabilities

 Progress on The Dreaming Sea continues to be uneven. I had a good sprint last week but since Saturday I have written around one thousand words. It's not so much a lack of motivation as it is distraction. I typically write the most after everyone else goes to bed but Monday night I was cuddling my kitten the night before her surgery to be spayed. Then, last night, I was keeping a close watch on her until one in the morning to ensure that she wasn't pulling stitches. Eventually, I had to isolate her in the downstairs bathroom for the night because her brother wanted to wrestle and play with her. It was a little too ambitious for her delicate state. 

Yesterday was also time for my annual vaccinations. The flu vaccine always hits me rather hard for a day or two. Very sore and running a slight fever today. My goal is to write tonight but it really depends on how I feel. I hate taking three consecutive days off from working on my book but I also hate writing uninspired junk, even if it is a first draft.

Mentally, I have been doing better lately. There's some sense of hope in life, again. Winter is closing in on us here in Michigan but there's a sense of movement in the world for the first time in many months. I feel like we are past the mid-point in this terrible pandemic. So much senseless loss of life. I only hope that people take precautions while we await the vaccines to become available. 

I feel like I can dream of a time when the distance between us doesn't feel so insurmountable. My children's generation will certainly have some interesting stories to tell their future grandchildren. They are scarred. I can see it in my teenager's eyes and the way my four year old loses his patience so easily. The anxiety has done something to all of us. Turn on the news and you will see plenty of evidence of it. I hope it will pass and that we will heal, in time.

I also long for a time when I can get out and meet my readers again. It's no secret that I've always been an introvert but this plague has made me seriously reconsider my stance on the issue. I miss faces and smiles, particularly the smiles. I have to believe that they are still there, though veiled by layers of life-saving cloth.

Hang in there, folks. We're far from out of the woods, but I think I see the treeline rising in the distance now.

Discover my books on amazon!

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08KGSN1YM

Entering the Dreaming Sea

 The process of getting back into writing after a hiatus has never been an issue for me in the past, but the transition back into writing mode this time around has absolutely confounded me. It wasn't an issue of my skills getting rusty or losing my magical author superpowers. Motivation was my biggest barrier. With the continued pandemic I didn't really feel like writing another book to throw into the void. 

The release of Maestra has been successful but online sales will never equate to the experience of being in front of people, discussing my writing, and selling my work. It's validating of all the time and money investment that I put into my craft. I love creating art but there is an endorphin rush from selling my art, too. I have been that way for years with my other crafts that I create. Without the ability to get out there and physically sell my books I struggle with motivation. Occasionally I get a nice message from a reader about how much they love my book and that really gives me a nudge, though. 

Mental focus has been another issue. With so much happening in the world around us, and in particular the dumpster fire of hate and vitriol that is the political climate in the United States, it has felt really hopeless to attempt to do anything other than sit on the couch and wait for inevitable doom. They say to surround yourself with positive people in your life but I have very few of those around me. So, it's up to me to buoy myself back to the surface when life throws rocks at me. I am learning to dodge, even at 44. 

I've made two attempts to get back into writing on this new project and failed twice. I managed to scratch out a couple of chapters but finding a rhythm was impossible with so much noise going on around me. An attempt early last week resulted in me writing the hottest garbage I have created since middle school.

Yesterday I actually woke up with the spirit of writing back inside me. I had a productive morning session and a productive evening session. I wrote more than 2,300 words and have my story focused on course. Draft one of The Dreaming Sea is going to be different. It's going to be more of a skeletal outline than my previous works and may require an extra draft in process to get it all fleshed out. Normally I do three passes but this being a science fiction work it is going to need an extra level of pizzazz to get to a standard that I'm happy with. It's different from writing horror. Killing people is easy. Keeping them alive and giving them hope is hard. 

Also, today is the last day to get a free copy of Maestra on Kindle here! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08H24LB12

Cheers!

Every Dream Ends

 As I drifted off to sleep last night my mind returned to Autumn of 2006. I was playing with my little ginger cow kitten in the foyer of my old house. I saw everything in clarity like I had never left. I could see the house just the way it was, down to the cobwebs dangling off the chimney pipe coming off the wood stove after a summer of disuse. The little kitty boy was wound up and when my then girlfriend opened up the front door he darted out. My dream of the past quickly turned into a nightmare that I also recall just as vividly. The kitten darted across the road into a dark woods. I could hear him crying from across the road. I crossed into the forest and searched for him for hours but all I could hear was his fading mews as he ran away, scared as the sun was setting. I couldn't sleep all that night. I put bowls of food on the front porch in case he came home. I checked every hour until 4 in the morning when I saw that half the bowl of food had been eaten. I grabbed a flashlight and looked all over the yard. I was about to give up when I peeked underneath my back deck and, sure enough, there was little Mango staring at me -- wild eyed. I hollered at him and he ran right up to me. I held him for hours, cuddling him as I went back to bed for the remainder of the night.

Then my dream turned to years later, in the Spring of 2010 after we had moved downstate to my home town. Mango would sit in my laundry room window every day, watching this little wild cat who would come sit on a bench beneath the window and talk to him. It was the same routine every day. Eventually, a few days before Christmas, the wild cat now name Clarysse decided that she wanted to come inside and meet her Mango.

They were inseparable. Just this summer we took in a stray kitten, then adopted another. Mango and Clare (after ten years together) were finally parents and loved their babies. Day and night they would snuggle and play. They were a perfectly adorable family.

Until yesterday. 

After two days of appearing to be under the weather and off his food, I took Mango to the vet for some tests. I believed he had a hairball based on his coughing and cramping. It wasn't a hairball, but liver cancer. His intestines had shut down. At 14.5 years old any procedure was dangerous and the doctor felt the prognosis was poor, even with surgery.

I lost that sweet little kitten yesterday. It hits particularly hard right now. We lost our other fluffy boy, Coal, just a month and a half ago after a battle with leukemia. All the while that we were tending to Coal our Mango boy was dealing with his own silent fight -- and we never knew.

I wanted to write this down, preserve his story in some form. He was much more than a cat. He was my buddy, and truly felt like my child. He is gone. The last chapter in his innocent little story has come to an end, and the dream has slipped into the ethereal. Goodbye, my big bear.

Back on writing hiatus for a bit until I feel better.

Cheers,

Stuffing the Monster Back in the Closet

 I haven't completely hidden my mental health struggles over the past several months but, man, did they ever get the better of me while I was on my writing hiatus. 

There is only so much family fun time that any one individual can take before they run screaming into the night. That needs to be said, and it needs to be normalized. You can love your kids more than anyone has loved anything in the whole history of ever and still reach a point where (especially during a pandemic) you just can't breathe anymore and need a break. I reached that point a couple of months ago but kept pushing through it. Once Maestra was done and turned in I didn't have that distraction anymore and Pandora's box of nightmares and anxiety was officially open and flooding through my life. On top of my own insecurities I was suddenly dealing with a teenager and a four year old also suffering from varying degrees of anxiety and mental health issues. I am leaving my poor wife out of this because she is dealing with things (better than I) and knows that I am there to support her in whatever way she needs.

Simply said, my mind has tricked me into believing that the entire world is falling apart. It's not my first rodeo and I'm sure it won't be my last. I'm intelligent and sane enough to realize that the brain is extremely skilled at coping with stress while still amplifying anxiety until seemingly small things blow up into crippling doubts about any given subject. Throw in a four year old who can make train horn whistle sounds for twelve hours straight right next to my ears and it becomes a situation beyond the stress of anything that I have ever experienced, before, in my life.

What's another consequence of this, you may or may not ask? Suddenly I find myself suffering from Impostor Syndrome, again. I've had a successful book launch just weeks ago but I now find myself incapable of starting my next book because my head is full of doubts being shouted at me from somewhere within the darkness of my mind meat. It's like this large looming monster whispering at me from a closet, beckoning me onward and into the darkness. It eats into my mental health and cripples me until I have days where I am incapable of doing anything at all, except keep my children alive and fed until my wife gets home from work. 

I have said it before and I will say it again because it REALLY needs to be echoed around the world right now: It's absolutely okay to be broken. The world is crap. This country is particularly crappy right now as we are the most divided that we have been since the Civil War. Tolerance and Acceptance have flown out the window and the few people who haven't been utterly polarized are standing here wondering if we're the crazy ones. I am heartbroken for the world around us and what it has done to us.

So how do I get through this alive, and also convince myself that I actually am a writer again? That's an excellent question. Several times over the past week I have tried to get into the new story. I found that I couldn't write any words on the page. It felt so intimidating. I didn't even feel that overwhelmed when starting my first book. Then I spent a few days just working on furthering my world building and outlining. I was convinced that having more of a fleshed out blue print would make it easier to start writing. I was wrong. It hasn't helped. I have tried to set aside a more private space to write in. Nope. Not helping. Last week I tried taking a day for myself and getting away to the family cottage to quiet the monster. In the silence it's voice got louder and I came back home before noon. 

Through all of this I am keeping in the front of my mind that all of this is transitory. We're 15 days from an election that will either help heal the nation or be a catalyst toward a new civil war, depending on how the winner and loser both handle the situation - will it be with dignity and grace or with open disdain and hostility toward the process which will incite violence upon one another?

Again, it's transitory. It has to be. This isn't the end of me, or of humanity. It will pass. 

When it does I will still be a writer. 

Until then I am going to have to learn to ignore that calling from the void that would rather break me down and leave me in perpetual darkness.

___________

R.M. Smith's Concentric Worlds series on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08KGSN1YM

Hiatus Continues, Bathroom Remodeling Fun!

 When Michigan went into a Stay at Home order back in March we were in the middle of a bathroom remodel project. The contractor working on it wrapped up as much as they could in the final day but left a couple of days worth of work left to finish. They promised that as soon as the Stay at Home order was lifted they would be back the next day and finish. The Stay at Home order was lifted 4 months ago. I don't think they're coming back -- especially after the owner blocked my phone number. 

So, my wife and I are going to be handling the mostly cosmetic touches ourselves. A few weeks ago I installed a bi-fold closet door. Next up I silicon sealed around the bathtub. Tomorrow we will be picking up the paint. We had to wait until the end of summer so we could get some relatives to agree to watch our 4 year old while we get project-y. I love my son but he absolutely gets in the way like you wouldn't believe. This morning he went in after I put down the silicon seal and smeared it all over the floor and dug it out of the groove between the tub and the floor. Good times.

To no one's surprise, I haven't done much on my next book yet. Last night I finally made myself sit down and work on some world building. It's not much but it's a solid first step. The way my brain works, now that I have that initial step taken, I will build off from it at a steady pace until I begin drafting later on this month. I'm hoping to finish writing it by June, 2021 so I can actually enjoy a pleasant couple of months of summer weather off from writing before beginning work on the next book in the Concentric Worlds series.

Meanwhile, Maestra is out in the wild and selling surprisingly well. I am eagerly awaiting some feedback on it (good or bad.) I very much look forward to signing copies and meeting fans, again, when the world is a safer place. 

Back in February when I did my last book signing I had no idea that it could potentially be a year and a half before I would be able to do another appearance. This whole pandemic is still so surreal. 

I hope that the world will be a more united place once the virus is gone. I know my country has a long way to go toward healing. We've spent the last several years becoming so divided that life feels pretty hopeless, anymore.

One day at a time. 

Check out all my published works here: https://www.amazon.com/R-M-Smith/e/B07ZGH16ZC/