The Excitement of Adventure

San Bruno Mountain Reserve 2012

This post is part of the Open Book Blog Hop (begun by author P.J. Fiala) where you can learn more about authors and bloggers. The theme this week is fun.

My "fun" is limited. I'm a bit of a workaholic and a stay-at-home parent of an active toddler, which means 99% of my time is spoken for. I have to plan every part of my day and week just to make sure I can shower and brush my teeth. When I do get a spare minute, I am usually so tired, all I can do is watch the latest sci-fi creation out of Canada.

That said, when my husband is off work, we do family or date things. This often involves hiking, short excursions, and or movies. Today we went to the beach, took a long walk, and had a picnic. Afterwards we got frozen yogurt at a DIY yogurt bar. That is a pretty typical example of our family time.

Before Kiddo, however, things were a little different.

Halloween Shiny Toy Guns concert, Bako 2011

I really enjoy dancing - salsa, hip-hop, techno, swing, waltz, whatever. It brings me joy. I also love live music, especially funk and folk (though my interests are pretty varied). Dinner and dancing or a concert would be an ideal time for me. I also really enjoy art openings, festivals, and museums for daytime fun. So if I was childless and wanted to have some staycation-style fun, this would be it.

But more than this, I love adventuring. An adventure for me could be hiking, camping, or just exploring a new town. When I lived in the Bay Area, we would go on a different hiking trail every weekend, and often explore a new section of the Bay. Every weekend was a new adventure, and I absolutely loved it.

We try to do that everywhere we live. When we were in Phoenix, we would take a day in different parts of the city. We went to the mountains. We went to Sedona. We went to Tuscon. When we lived in Bakersfield, we explored Tehachapi. We sussed out all the cool spots. We went to Lake Isabella.

Now that we're in Santa Barbara County, it's hard to feel like there is any adventure left, because we've both lived in the area for significant portions of time. Having our son brings an element of newness to the place, but it's not quite the same. I'm still getting used to the change and embracing it. The next big adventure is scheduled for late September when we'll be camping in Big Sur with Kiddo and going to the Monterrey Bay Aquarium. While I've been to both places when childless, I am excited to share them with my son and experience them as a family. It is different. There won't be dancing or concerts. Our pace will be slower, but I will get to experience it all through Kiddo's eyes. To see his joy when watching jellyfish tanks or when feeling the tide pool exhibit will be wonderful.

What do you consider fun? Leave a comment below! 

Tracy

Speaking of fun, check out chick lit and women's fiction author Tracy Krimmer. Her new book, Jay Walking is on pre-order on Amazon. You can read about this, her other novels, and check out her blog at her site here! Also be sure to like her Facebook Author page here.

 
Also, if you're interested in joining our blog hop, link up below!

An InLinkz Link-up

Hate Your Life - It's Good For You!

There are about a thousand things going through my head right now, but I'll try to keep to one or two because, well...that's usually a good idea when you're writing (even if you're writing in a casual setting like a blog).

To be completely honest, I had a total breakdown earlier this week. There was sobbing, statements made that I'd rather never repeat, and admissions that at another time in life may have only brought me down. I have long suffered the curse of self-doubt, self-deprecation, and many other wretched things.

I'm done. Well, at least for the foreseeable future.

I've been reinvigorated.

How, you're asking? Maybe you're thinking, I too have suffered these awful things and worse - much worse. My first world problems are the worst of anyone I know! Yes yes. I understand, and I am happy to share my secret. It came with a confession - the ultimate confession.

Currently, I hate my life.

I'll give you the rundown, not to make this into a pity party, but rather to be entirely factual and clear about where I'm coming from.

• I live with my parents - an increasingly common situation these days.
• I stay at home with my baby - granted he's a sweetheart, but I'm not exactly the stay at home type.
• I have very few friends (if I can say any) outside my family in my current location.
• I struggle to complete my writing goals, and compared to many, have a long way to go.
• I am not currently, nor have I ever worked in my field of study.
• Between my husband and I, we have a mountain of student loan debt.
• My husband works in an industry that does not pay well, despite the high level of expertise and responsibility required of him.
• I am not anywhere near the level of success I envisioned for myself as a younger person.

I hate that. All of that. I could let that hate consume me and make me wallow and take my situation into all new spectacular lows, and indeed, when I had this mini-meltdown, I thought it would.

To my great pleasure, it had the opposite effect.

Rather than dragging me down, it spurred me forward. It was a bit like living in that wretched apartment in Phoenix complete with termites, roaches, no working fridge or AC. I did that for 6 months. You see, I hated that apartment so much, I bought a house. Granted there were other issues with that, but I got the house I wanted and I loved that house while living the remainder of my time in Phoenix.

And that experience illustrates something else; high pressure wretchedness motivates me. It makes me want things - want things so badly I'll do anything to get what I want. So I will.

That's the key to all those crazy self-development books. Nothing else really matters. When you want something bad enough, you will do anything and everything to get it. When you do anything and everything, you will get it. That's what happens. The question is, do you want it badly enough? There is no half-assing at this level. You have to want it. Really. I mean...REALLY.

Fortunately, I do. I really, really do. Now if everyone around me could get on board with things (I'm thinking of the crying baby in the next room), we could get things moving towards some kind of wonderful.

When have you been spurred to change your situation? What was the moment of action for you? Leave a comment below!

When Your Mind Runs Wild and Your Body Collapses

Status report:

1. I've taken a full time job. Okay, that's good right? Sure - I was poor (frankly still not rolling in it, but the finances are doing better).
2. I sold my house. Well, I'm in the process of it, but everything seems to be going along smoothly. So that's good, again, helping with the finances.
3. P90x has fallen by the wayside because I don't have enough time in the morning before work and after work to do basic things in the house, write, and workout. This is a problem. I already feel a difference in how I am, except if I try to workout before work, I feel more exhausted... sooo trying to figure out a way to mitigate this. Suggestions are welcome.
4.  Working on my sci-fi project, Legion, which is both fun and frustrating. Fun because it is something new and different, frustrating because I'm trying to figure out how I want to turn scenes into chapters that make sense and aren't wildly different lengths. This may end up being more of a second run through kind of thing.
5. Lovers and Rivals is in reading phase, though after having a review of The Brothers, and lots of free time at work, I've thought of a few changes I want to make in the Book 2 manuscript.
6. I have officially come up with a prequel plan for the Khloe Alwell trilogy. It is awesome, dark, and more sophisticated than I originally thought it would be. I'm excited about it in a way that might make me write it before I write the conclusion book to Khloe.

 So, that's kind of where I'm coming from at the moment. The result is I am physically exhausted while my mind is going a million miles a minute. That said, I'm hopeful. There are promising things in the wings and with that, comes optimism that had been sorely lacking.

Also, it helps that cool people are giving me love on Twitter. I love my Tweeps. It helps keep me going. By their power combined, I am sure I will succeed through this exhausting time. *sleepily sits up with wide smile*

Rubbed Raw - Hoping For Better

Worn. One word to describe my present state would be worn. Another would be raw.

Yesterday was spent driving from Phoenix to Bakersfield. Of course, things were fine, except half-way from Santa Barbara to Bakersfield we realized Christian had left his helmet in SB. When we got home, my new magazine had been coated in cleaning solution making it barely legible. That doesn't include the bills piled up waiting to be paid with our low bank account. This morning I'm supposed to start a low paying job that doesn't require any skills. This, after waking up ridiculously early because my husband's cell alarm went off at 4 am.

I think there are a few people who can identify with this situation. I would rather go home and go back to sleep. Just to sleep until I was rested would be amazing. I have a sneaking suspicion the training for this job is going to be snore inducing. After that, the job itself may also feel like a waste of time to me. Yes, it's a job. And yes, I need the money. That's why I'm doing it at all, BUT if I could get away without having to do this, I would.

So it is with a heavy heart that I sacrifice writing time, sleep, and my spiritual health for a very little bit of money. Yeah. When I put it that way it sounds like a horrible idea.

Except, I do need to eat, get places, and have air conditioning in a hot place. For those more basic needs, I have to give up more complicated ones. Having worked jobs I liked that allowed me to do things, this is a tough sell.

So help a starving artist out, buy my book. Buy a painting even. Send someone my way who wants some art lessons. I'd love to be able to do something that brought joy to people's days on a regular basis.

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The Dirty Renters - Lessons In Property Ownership From A Rookie

Try to contain your disbelief. But here are the things we found on the wall:
1. Crayon
2. Pencil
3. Splattered wax
4. Some kind of glue
5. Barbecue sauce (this was also throughout various kitchen surfaces including inside multiple cupboards)
6. Pancake batter
7. Pink paint... or something
8. Green chalk
9. Blue chalk
10. Scuff marks
11. Finger prints of varying degrees of dirt and or grime
12. Soda

Other unusual things include:
1. Fan chain ornament was removed and replaced with less expensive and less pretty thing.
2. Cracked counter.
3. Pen on the inside of the freezer.
4. Glow bracelets in freezer.
5. Travel mug... dirty.
6. Toothpicks in bathroom tub drain.
7. Crayon in kitchen cupboard.
8. 2 leather jackets in attic.
9. 2 murals - large - on walls
10. Multiple patch jobs on walls and doors.
11. Hole in wall unpatched - large.
12. Ceiling paint scratched off completely in small area as well as the word 'hi'
13. Thick layer of black dirt along garage door jamb
14. Outline of furniture along walls, in dirt.
15. Strange red marks in various places throughout house.

This is what we found... in addition to the gouges in various parts of our walls.

My only conclusion is that our previous renters' children never bathed and spread their filth everywhere in the house without repurcussions. I wonder if they thought they left the place clean... I also wonder if Karma is a real thing, and if it is, why did I have to deal with this? And if it is, what do they get?

Needless to say, we're done. We aren't going to ever live here again. Time to get out of Dodge, as they say. We're selling and cutting our losses.

To those of you out there renting, be nice. Not all property owners are wealthy landed gentry. Many are just like us. Treat the place well. Be gentle. Maybe even clean once in a while. Trust me, it's a good idea.

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Mundane Tragedy or Something More - Revisiting Phoenix

Not all tragedies begin the same way. You don't even have to like the characters in order to appreciate a tragedy, but it sure makes for a better story when you do.

Lying here on my air mattress while the temperature slowly creeps back into double digits, I feel the tragic side. Phoenix was never a happy place for us, though there were moments of happiness. As we try to reddress the mess our renters left us, I find myself in a predicament. I am attached to the house, even as I desperately want to rid myself of the place.

Had things gone the way everyone expected, our house might have been increasing in value right now. I might have enjoyed working at the university that made our lives possible in Arizona. As it is, when I come here, I see it as the waste land that it is, filled with little hope, too much heat, trash, and extreme right-wing crazy.

When I lived here, driving out of Phoenix made me feel free. Driving back filled me with dread. This time, I didn't feel dread, but I also knew I wouldn't be stuck here. But now, I lie in the master suite which no longer feels like mine, and my chest feels like it is imploding. I can't describe how dark it feels, how wrong the house is to me. It feels alien, cold, and unwelcoming. There is no real reason why the place should feel me with these awful feelings, yet I lie here, incapable of sleeping because I feel like I should not turn my back on the house.

Anyone with any strong empathy knows that places have personalities. Places hold memories much longer than fragile flesh. So why does this place feel so awful to me? Why do I feel unsafe when there is no reason to feel this way?

My creative mind can't help but imagine - not all horror stories begin the same.

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Back from Vacation - A Writer Stressing Over Money

Every day that I have been looking for jobs I've applied to between 4 and 5 of them. I've sifted through pages and pages of advertisements looking for something that would be at least moderately interesting and would help with the rent. And I'm freaking out.

Part of the reason I'm freaking out is because we have yet to rent out the house in Phoenix. That has been a long and annoying road on which many service people have dragged their feet every step of the way. It's a stressful thing, and expensive for us while it isn't rented. I am hoping this is the month. So I cross my fingers while I try and look for a job.

In the mean time, I'm trying to keep a calm enough mind to write. What many writers don't talk about is that time when you're barely able to pay your bills and how the impacts your writing. Let me make it plain for you - it sucks major balls.

When you worry about money, for anyone who ever has, it impacts every aspect of your life. You worry about how you will pay for your electricity. You worry how you will pay for gas. You worry about how you will eat. Then if you can buy food, you worry what you will be able to eat. This last one is especially concerning for me being on P90x because healthy food tends to be more expensive (let's not even touch the subject of whey protein powder costs).

But being poor makes it difficult to be creative. At least, for me. The energy it takes to try and address the money problem is so great, that I find it difficult to put my creative juices to writing when I feel obligated to put it towards my finances.  I don't even feel like I can use my creative energies to promote my book, and I really NEED to do that if I want it to go anywhere. You see the issue.

I am no stranger to pinching pennies, and I know this time is supposed to be coming to a close. This is a temporary situation. All I need is someone to rent the house in Phoenix OR get a job and already I would have a little more space to relax and focus on the other half of this equation. The problem is I feel like I've been living in this "temporary" situation for a long time, and I want it to be over. Ironically, the most financially stable I've ever been was when we lived in Phoenix, and that was when I was unhappiest.

May Bakersfield be a place where I am financially stable and happy. This is my solemn wish. Send good thoughts people - I really need to write!

The Armpit of California - Bakersfield

When people told me Bakersfield was the worst place in California, I didn't believe them.  I thought they were lying to me, or it was a matter of perspective.  It still might be a matter of perspective, but I'm more inclined to side with the people who gave fair warning.

My parents, being the good parents they are as well as withholding judgment until they experience something for themselves, decided we would take a drive to check it out.  Bakersfield was one of the shops that was looking for a master-tech, and it's better to get as much information as possible. Man, am I glad I actually checked the place out because wow - I'm convinced.

Anyone who knows me knows I hate flat.  I also hate dry.  Driving to Bakersfield along the 166 was beautiful, until we hit the farm land.  Rows and rows of artificially organized citrus lined the slender line of asphalt.  We turned on to the 99 and made our way into town.  We had already gone through several whistle stops that made my mother groan and say "God this is sooo depressing!".  I figured, Bakersfield is a big city.  It will have something worth seeing.  Something will be interesting about it.

Thing was, there just wasn't. 

Going into town, there was a large community of large houses that were priced in the mid 100s. That should have been our first clue.  We found one of the malls - it was all average stores - forget designer.  There was, of course, only one major university there to service a city of over 300,000 people. In addition to the lovely culture, education, and shopping available, I was disturbed by the apparent lack of zoning in a large metropolitan area.  Houses were next to businesses and industrial areas.  Classic "American Lawn Art" was everywhere in the middle of the city.  One of the malls actually had boarded up windows!  An entire shopping mall had become empty!  It just looked trashy and rundown - the entire city looked like it had taken on the full brunt of our economic troubles. 

I thought Phoenix was hellish, and that is all I can say about it.  It is at least hellish.  Bakersfield might actually be hell.  I'm not sure.  I guess it depends on how you think about it.  If Hell is meant to have some beauty about it, something insidious about it, then Phoenix is Hell.  You have some art nights, some cool clubs, Tempe, and Scottsdale.  If, however, Hell should just be the most depressing place you've ever been in your life, then Bakersfield takes the cake.

All I know is, even though the closest Nordstrom to Troy NY is in Connecticut, I'd rather have the mountains and the Hudson River than dusty flat uber-farms and Frito Lay factories of Bakersfield.

Hitler is Dead - So Antisemitism is over, right?

Osama is dead, apparently. Then some idiots started dancing in the streets celebrating.  That's just what they were - idiots. They are idiots because not only is this premature, as far as celebrations go, but also because a single person is never responsible for an entire movement.  A single person is a symbol.

You can destroy a symbol in a symbolic fashion, but just because a single symbol - one of thousands - is destroyed doesn't mean a thing is over.  Think of it as a hydra.  When you cut off one head, two come back in its place.

Because Nazism is a favorite of internet forums everywhere, let's use our favorite Nazi as an example.  Hitler is dead.  In fact, most high ranking Nazi officials were systematically hunted and put through trials in order to humiliate them (as well as exact some kind of justice for the atrocities committed) - and they did a great job at it.  Germany is still trying to live down World War 2.  All this is true.  But if you look around Europe, there is still antisemitism.  White power is still a serious right wing movement that has held sway in many places, including my own "favorite" state of Arizona.

So we killed Osama.  Tell me something we did that was useful - like reforming corporate taxes, our education system, or executing a global multilateral plan to address climate change. That would be something that would cause me to dance in the streets.  When it happens I will tape it for you.  I promise - and I expect you to hold me to it.

From Nowhere, With Love

Last night I met someone and I asked them if they were from the Bay area.  They said they had lived here for 14 years.  I responded that she was therefore from the Bay area.  She said, oh no - 14 years isn't enough to be from a place - she was from northern California, not here.

The longest I've ever lived in a single town is 14 years.  So I guess I'm from nowhere.  But if I'm from nowhere, I'm also from everywhere.

It hits me that I have missed out on certain things when people say things like that.  I miss out on having the really tight knit group of friends from high school that went to college together, has had baby showers together, weddings and everything.  I missed having family members close by.  People would go to their grandmother's after school, and I had to wait for summer vacation to take a two week trip to get my annual dose of my extended family.  It was isolating.  I still have that problem now.  It takes me a long time to commit to a place because part of me doesn't expect it to feel like home.  Even after being in Hayward for almost a year, I still have dreams about the house in Phoenix and half expect to wake up in it.  Sometimes I even dream about waking up in the parsonage in Santa Barbara where my parents lived (the third longest place I've lived...).

On the other hand, when I meet people that seem like they could maybe somehow be a friend, I open up and seek them out (which doesn't mean they do the same thing).  The problem with this is, I start to get my groove with the friendship and then I leave again. It's frustrating to say the least.

You'd think with my nomadic lifestyle I'd have less stuff, but the thing is, I've been expecting the situation to change.  I've been collecting furniture etc because I want to settle. I want to be from somewhere.  I want to have roots and a home that I can go to for twenty years running.  I haven't had something close to this for some time.  The closest I came was 14 years in Albany.

I did my growing up in New York, but now I look at Facebook pics of my highschool cohort, and I feel like I'm galaxies away.  Its true I sometimes slip into a New York accent.  But I also slip into a Pittsburgh accent when I'm with my family, or a southern drawl with other family members.  I've been known to take on other accents as well, depending on who I'm with, and what the situation is.  So yes, even though I grew up in New York, I really don't belong there.  Not now. 

But then, can I belong anywhere? Do I just make myself belong somewhere? It's a concern I have because I so rarely feel like I fit in a place (despite whether or not I actually do).  The irony is, that I do fit in rather well here in the Bay. We just can't afford it.  Someday I'm sure we would be able to, but by then, I hope I'm already living in a big house full of family and friends, with tons of animals and a huge garden.    No small roots for me.

Occupation v. Vocation - Striking the Balance

Well, I finally got a job.  Thank the LORD.  One that actually will pay and is part of a legitimate company, even if it is a part-time gig.  But still, the stress leading up to this point was unbearable. It's nice not to worry so much about things.

The job hunt gave me some perspective on things that I really hadn't had time to examine before.  For example, as a writer, I need to have time in order to write.  I have to have energy each day in order to allow for me to write a blog post, work on a novel, or pump out a short story.  I can't work a 9-5 job and write.  I've tried.  It doesn't work well for me.  When I do that, it diverts my attention too many directions leaving me no way to really focus on my calling.  The result is, most work is soul-sucking for me.  Of course there are some things which really equate to the bowels of Hell and other things that are just slightly purgatorial, but the end is the same.  I feel like I am missing something.  I cannot be happy.  It is impossible.  I know my vocation, and if I were to avoid doing it, whatever the reason, I would be miserable for the rest of my life.

I've felt the effects of this before, even before I was absolutely certain what I am meant to do in this world.  In some ways, Phoenix was my cleansing fire.  I had to go through that period in order to figure out what I needed, what I couldn't deal with, and what I was willing to give up.  Without that purifying fire, I never would have come to my present place, where I am so much happier, where I feel right.

It is true that for the past few months Christian and I have lost a LOT of sleep.  We were both stressed out.  At the same time, I felt fine.  Don't get me wrong, I was wallowing my fair share and sobbing appropriately, and frantically brainstorming with the best of them.  I was.  Christian and my mother can both attest to this.  At the same time, I found a peace and a purpose that I haven't known.  I felt like I have finally come into myself.

It's something we all have to take time to do.  It is necessary.  If you don't make time to figure these things out, your soul and God will do it for you.  The universe will do it for you.  It will require that you stop and begin a great purging of spirit.  This is the only way you can figure out who you are meant to be, what you are meant to do, and it is the only way you can truly be happy.  We are all meant to go through this world as our best selves, to have purpose, and to live it to its fullest.

Beyond the need for something to pay bills, I needed something to inspire me.  It's a delicate balance between vocation and occupation.  You see, in order to write I need to be inspired.  In order to be inspired, I need to go out and do things.  In order to write I need to eat, in order to eat, I need money.  To get money, I need to work.  So working is a logical thing to do for any writer.  The catch is, you can't work too much or too little, it needs to be the Baby Bear amount - just right.

The moral of the story is, a little work (occupation that is) is good and necessary on many levels. Vocation is necessary for spiritual, mental, and emotional health and needs to balance with occupation.  When you have vocation, the world can fall apart, but your soul will be intact.  I recommend it as insurance, every time.

Library User Solicitation Letters?

	And now, for something totally random!  This morning when I wasn't sleeping (like I did all night last night...sigh) I got this awesome email (emphasis added): Date: Sun, Jan 2, 2011 at 7:00 AM Subject: This is a message from Phoenix Public Library To: Alexis        From: Juniper Library 1825 W UNION HILLS DR PHOENIX, AZ 85027 602-262-4636 To: ALEXIS Hello. We have missed you and just want to let you know… Phoenix Public Library is here to serve you! Please come back and visit us. We offer access these great services. Free downloadable eBooks, Audio Books, Movies, and Music. We offer Magazines and Newspapers online. Free learning tools for all ages including Career Training and Test Preparation for GED and SAT tests. Preparing for College? Come visit the College Depot at Burton Barr Central Library. Item(s) may be returned to any Phoenix Public Library. Library item(s) may be renewed if they have not been requested by another library customer. Item(s) may be renewed in person, online or by phone. When calling or going online, you will need your library card. Since when did libraries start soliciting unpaid business? Is that part of their bargaining chips for local funding? If that is true, then the fact that Christian and I left has really cut into the Phoenix Library system.  I mean, we took out books all the time, especially ones that were not part of the Ann Coulter collection.  Christian had some classmates at MMI that prided themselves on the fact they had never finished reading a book.  It's no wonder the Phoenix public library system feels the need to solicit users.  These classmates of Christian's are examples of the great culture of Phoenix. They occupy an entirely different world than I ever have (but with any luck, they'll grow personally and learn the beauty of the written world).  In Phoenix I was a minority, and minorities have to stick together, you know, and take out books.

A to B - The Next Horrifying Step

"So the question is, what makes this special?"

I got on the phone today with a classmate of mine from art school who works at a small publishing house in New York City.  It was humbling and helpful all at once.  It got me thinking about all the different things that I need to be doing to help promote my writing, and the list is long.  It's not just a little bit of schmoozing here and lip service there.  Apparently it's an uphill battle.  Of course, he doesn't know that an uphill battle for me is anything remotely difficult.  This sounded like it was a little closer to climbing Everest than it did Potrero Hill.

I've read over and over about writers who have put in proposal after proposal only to be rejected.  I know there are really good books that never make the author any money, and really bad books that make an author tons of money.  There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, except what appeals to the marketplace at a given time.  Some authors die poor and starving waiting for someone to give them their due. A hundred years later, everyone rants and raves about their incredible art, long after any copyright has expired.  There is this sinking feeling I have in my gut that I will end up this way - alone, putting down a handle of Scotch daily, eating Top Ramen, and forgetting personal hygiene.  That's my big fear - that my failure will be so spectacular that I am incapable of rising again.

I doubt that I will be that bad off.  But the anxiety I have of ending up that way is so real to me, that it is paralyzing. Then I turn around and laugh at myself. It's ridiculous!  Other people have done these things!  They have.  There are plenty of people who have been successful authors with first novels, second novels, and novels made into movies.  They get on talk shows with Oprah and Ellen and get interviewed on the Today Show.  It happens.  It does.  Some of them even get to do Ted Talks.  That could be me.  I could do that.  I have everything I need to do that if I wanted to... I know the core is there.  This perpetual problem I have is affirmation.  I totally need it.  And the publishing world is not set up for people who need affirmation.  It's set up for the overly confident who are so strong they can take multiple rejections and still pursue.

Okay.  Actually I lied.  If a person has faith in their project, a few rejection letters wouldn't daunt them.  They would pursue. 

I say all these things, yet I haven't gotten a proposal letter written to a publisher or an agent.  One friend of a friend read a couple chapters of Phoenix Rising and said to pitch it to small publishers.  Another said I have so many ideas, I really should get an agent who can handle cross-genre authors.  Eek.  How many of those are there? Well, San Francisco is a veritable gold mine of agents and publishers.  Small publishers don't give very good advances, but big publishers won't look at you unless you're working through an agent.  And a good agent will get you to a big publisher.  How do you find a good agent? You look at the books you like, young authors writing in your genre who acknowledge their support systems. You find their agents.  You write them proposal letters.  You find the one editor in the Bay Area who is from Arizona, left because they hated it and will resonate with Phoenix Rising. You find the one person who when they went to high school felt like there was a whole other world on the fringes and have a love of mythology and folklore - then you pitch The Brothers.

And that my friends, is how its done.  So what is the next step? Research.  Reading lit mags to see what other authors are doing. Finding stories like mine so I can scoop up an agent that hopefully lives in San Francisco and not New York.  Then I start honing my proposal letter. Someone will bite.  It happens to people all the time.  I know it is waiting for me.  I just have to get over my bizarre starving drunken author fear and do it... right after I finish this bottle of Beckman Syrah.

Bringing Out My Inner Extrovert!

Writing, necessarily, is a  solitary and isolating activity.  I can't imagine an extreme extrovert getting their kicks from writing.  As it is, I've become a fairly big introvert in the last few months, completely isolated in my small apartment with only the occasional event to draw me out and my cat, Java, for company.  Recently, this has begun to change.

Like all changes, it is a little jarring.  When I say a little, frankly it is a shock to my introverted system.  The result is I begin to act like I've not had my caffeine that day, except instead of coffee or Diet Coke, it was my alone time.  Don't get me wrong.  I love my husband, and I love my friends.  I really enjoy hanging out with them.  I just happen to need my space every so often in order to be right.  Imagine an old guy needing his prune juice, or a hypoglycemic needing a banana.

I should also let you know, that I do need time with people.  I go crazy if I don't.  But my people time doesn't need to be super intense.  Literally going outside and strangers passing me on the sidewalk is enough people time for me to feel like I've gotten a dose that day.  It is not as satisfying as hanging out with an awesome friend, but it is enough. It will get me through.  It allows me to be introspective and observe, which is one of my favorite things to do, and being a writer, it has graduated to more of a professional interest.

So this weekend when I hung out with more people in a three day period than I had for more than a month, it was shocking.  Simultaneously it was helpful.  Even though I write and I have kept myself locked up in my apartment, this is not really a way to live for any length of time.  In fact, I would go so far as to say it's a bit odd, and not in a good way.  I've gotten over my awful job in Phoenix that made me want to run away from the state of Arizona waving my hands and screaming.  I've gotten over moving.  Supposedly I have a job (or two, or three).  It's time to go out in the world and do something a little more!  It's time to make connections and reassert networks and friendships!  It's time to bring out my inner extrovert!

I have a feeling this is going to require some serious pain and disinterment. Great. Resurrection for part of your personality in four easy steps!  That's the self help book I need.  Okay actually, I don't need a book.  Really, it just takes a couple other people to require I come out of my shell and a little practice.  Here goes nothing!

Art Communities - Feedback Improves Projects

For some reason I've been coasting in this regular reverie about things long gone.  At the moment I have a Fiona Apple song stuck in my head, because it is the end of September.  Maybe it has something to do with all the art that is around me these days.  Art is something I had associated with a period of my life that is long dead.  If all Phoenix did for me was ressurrect my art, then I guess 2 years of my life was a price worth paying.  Even still, the Bay Area is the place to be when it comes to art.

Yes, Phoenix had First Fridays which were pretty cool.  That was the exception rather than the rule.  In SB the art was... well.... sort of hotel art.  It wasn't inspiring. Even still... yes, there was some art in both places that was awesome and inspiring and made me wish I had lots of moola so I could patronize fabulous talent.  Mostly however, I felt wanting and isolated in my own artsy hermitage.  It wasn't the happiest place to be.  You see art requires cross-pollination.  Some people will say it doesn't, but those people have their head so far up their ass they don't understand how inspiration works.  They don't understand what expression really is mostly because their giant ego has overtaken the room and clouded their judgment.

Inspiration requires input.  It requires different kinds of stimulus, including other people and quite frequently other talent.  Mentors can be helpful to improving the direction of an artist. Feedback is necessary to improve a piece, be it visual or verbal.  Inspiration is necessary for a piece to be great.  Put them together, and you have a winning combination.

I'm saying all this because a great non-profit in East Bay has caught my attention (thank you Lauryn and Martin!).  The Crucible is this fabulous non-profit that does a variety of sculptural classes as well as rents out space for artists and members. You can even volunteer and get access to the tools etc during your shift.  The classes themselves are a little out of our price range (and by a little, I mean very) but they make me drool just thinking about them! 

It made me wonder what might be done out there.  I like Hayward actually.  I want to bring spirit back into the down town.  It was hit very hard during the economic recession and there are many prime store fronts that are just begging for my ideas to dress them up.  The Crucible makes me want to do something for 2D media, which is perhaps a little more accessible to most people's wallets than say, Plasma art. I want to have a group of artists do a community thing in Hayward to reinvigorate the city.  Then I want there to be classes and a gallery and art for sale.  I want all this so badly....every time I walk down B street. 

But how long will we live here? How long can we be here? Would it be long enough for me to start something and see it to being established? Would doing this take me away from everything else that is brimming through my head? I do feel a bit manic these days but I feel like this would be an amazing adventure and I want people to come along for the ride.

Do you think I pursue this? Should I finish at least one project before gallivanting off to start another one? Do you know anyone who might be interested in this type of thing? It's all up in the air.  Let me know what you think. Feedback improves a project.

AZ v. CA

Today I got a jury summons from Maricopa County.  When I saw it, I just started laughing.  It's not just funny because the justice system in AZ is cracked and I'm pretty sure I would get voted off the island by the prosecutor in 5 seconds, but also because I received a different jury summons about a week prior.  Santa Barbara county also thinks I still live there. HA! FOOLED YOU BOTH!  Hopefully this doesn't mean I get another one in a few weeks from Alameda. I am crossing my fingers.

You see Arizona and California don't talk to each other.  There may not be an all out war (I mean, who needs a repeat of the mid-19th century?!) but there is a definite coldness that exists between the two.  It might be jealousy on the part of Arizona.  I mean, who isn't jealous of the prettiest girl in the room? California is definitely in the top five prettiest states because miles upon miles of coast line are coupled with a series of mountain ranges.  Marry that to the Pacific currents and you've got a fabulous range of climates Arizona can only fantasize about.

It's not just the climate or the weather (although that would be enough for me, wait, it WAS enough for me!).  It's also the cultural difference.  People flock to Cali.  It is the land of plenty with the previously discussed topography as well as fresh produce a plenty.  Add a few mixed in ethnic foods for flavor and several ports of immigration and you've got a very people friendly diverse state.  Arizona has one major international entry point which is fiercely guarded, its border.  The only reason people move to the desert is to get away from other people.  Phoenix, large city that it is, functions as the US' Boonie capital.  Because even though the city has millions of people, the majority people act like they live in the middle of nowhere.  Golf carts, ATVs, dirt bikes and pretty much any vehicle that can handle the speed of traffic is legal to be on the road.  I'm not kidding.  You don't need to wear helmets, just goggles.  Guns are the rule, not the exception.  The only thing that assures that you are in the 21st century is the fact people can't smoke in bars.

In Arizona its the Wild West.  In California, you feel like you're just short of the Federation of Planets.  It makes sense that the justice systems in these states would not talk to each other.  It raises the question, is it the sunrise or the sunset into which the cowboy rides? I guess it depends where you are on the political spectrum.