On Returning After an Unplanned Hiatus and Thanksgiving

Haynes King - The Letter

So here I am -- back from a somewhat involuntary break from blogging and working on getting back into the swing of things. I didn't plan things that way, but I did wind up busier than I needed to be, so I had to make a few judgment calls on the fly. I'm no longer willing to risk burnout or cut into my personal time with my husband to get ungodly amounts of work done, so I decided to simply put a couple of things on hold instead.

Sadly, blogging didn't make the cut as far as my writing life goes, but in retrospect, the break seems to have been good for me. Not only do I feel less poopy about certain things I'd been feeling poopy about, but I'm genuinely excited to get back into the groove after some time away. I've really missed expressing my thoughts this way and interacting with other writers on Medium and across all my social media channels.

As for what I have been up to, I did indeed wind up participating in this year's NaNoWriMo event. And I won, as these days I try to follow through on the writing commitment I make to myself come hell or high water. So that means I have a whole new collection of short stories under my belt -- one for every day in November. 

In April, I'll probably edit it for Camp NaNoWriMo and then begin releasing the stories one by one after that, as that worked out remarkably well last year. In the meantime, I still have plenty of stories leftover from last year's event that still haven't seen the light of day, so I'll still be floating the occasional fiction piece out there in the meantime. 

I've also been really busy with my copywriting business. I started writing marketing-themed content for a new client toward the end of October, and it's been working out really well so far. Not only does he toss me a good amount of work and pay me really well for it, but he eventually invited me to become a credited contributor to his company's blog. That means that although he's still my client and I'm still a hired freelancer, I'm no longer a ghostwriter as far as this particular client is concerned. And I'm stoked about it.

As anyone who's known me or read my stuff for long knows, I've had kind of a love/hate relationship with freelancing, in general, and ghostwriting, in particular when it comes to my writing. On the one hand, I love earning my living doing something like this instead of killing myself behind a cash register or a reception desk somewhere. But I don't always love letting other people take credit for content I worked hard on, especially when that content contains a lot of myself. 

I do occasionally still take one-off assignments about odd topics I don't really care about, but as I've gained experience, I've also niched down quite a lot. Most of the material I write for my regulars these days is on topics that I'm genuinely interested in and knowledgeable about -- like marketing, food, or relationships -- so it's not always easy to just give it away and let someone else take the credit for it. Being given a byline by this new client has really made me feel seen and valued in an exciting new way, so I'll be pursuing more opportunities like that in the future for sure.

On Happiness, Sour Grapes, and Other Discoveries

Flowers of Happiness - Eric Bruni

I've been noticing an interesting trend among some of my readers lately. More than a couple of them have read my things and commented on the fact that I sound happy or that I seem like a happy, centered person, in general. At first, I thought, "No, if you knew me, you'd know that's not true." But then I actually thought about it for a second and considered the possibility that they might be right. 

I'm definitely still capable of getting white-knuckle-level angry about things -- like all the stupidity going on out there in the world. For instance, I'm inwardly livid at all of these people who refuse to go get a COVID vaccine or take even the tiniest steps to take better care of the environment and make this shithole of a world a better place to be. 

And I actually feel comfortable using the word "furious" to describe how I feel about certain aspects of my personal life that truly aren't fair. I'm 45 years old and am, in many ways, still waiting to see what feels like a reasonable return on all the labor I put into my work and many of my personal relationships. I also fully get that I'm probably fighting a losing battle in at least a few of those cases. But those are situations (and in some cases people) that make me feel momentarily angry.

I realize I don't feel angry the rest of the time, so it's definitely not my default state anymore (if it ever was). I sometimes wonder how much of my tendency to self-identify as an angry, bitchy person over the years has indeed come from me at all. That's something I've usually been told by others, usually after I've just finished setting or reinforcing a boundary that should have been there all along. 

But yeah, maybe I am happy. I see too much beauty in the world around me these days not to be. This is especially the case since I've stopped drinking. I feel like my mind's reached this whole other level of clarity and sharpness that I've really been liking, especially when it comes to all my creative pursuits. 

A Very Green Visitor Crashed Our Card Game Last Night

So, as I've mentioned, Seth and I have been eating most of our dinners outside since just before Midsommar or so, as we were unexpectedly blessed with wonderful moderate weather this summer. Then after we eat, we like to sit and play cards for a while before going back inside to finish our workdays. Of course, it's been getting darker earlier and earlier, but the temperatures are still really moderate -- not even jacket weather yet -- so we've just been turning on the outside light over our table and carrying on as usual. (For now, anyway. Now that it's past the equinox, I'm sure it will be getting colder soon enough.)

Last night, we had this little visitor. At first, it tried to land on the back of my neck, and I freaked out because I didn't know what it was. It just felt big, heavy, flappy, and cold, so I figured it was a moth or something. Then it came back and landed on the wall next to us where we could see it better. We tried to shoo him away into the bushes (where I assume he belongs), but he kept coming back and insisting on perching nearby somewhere for the remainder of our card game. 

I could see it was a grasshopper of some kind, but I wanted to know what kind and Google suggests it's probably a katydid, especially considering it was nighttime. And since I'm also kind of a woo-woo witchy type, you know I wanted to know the spirit animal meaning. It's apparently growth, transformation, forward progress, and spiritual awareness. Grasshoppers of any kind -- especially any that are as brilliantly green as this one was -- are also supposed to be lucky and suggestive of prosperity. (Thanks, I'll take it. Especially the prosperity part.) 

5 Reasons Why People Aren't Reading Your Content

 

Naturally, content isn't just a big deal for writers and bloggers looking to make a living via their words these days. It's something everyone needs to worry about if they're serious about promoting their business, selling their products, or otherwise getting their voice out there. But becoming a decent enough writer to create readable content in the first place isn't typically enough to get people to notice it, click on it, and give it their time. 

Granted, I'm still making up for lost time as far as building my personal brand goes, but I'm getting there. Plus, I've been copywriting and creating web content for my clients for well over a decade at this point, and according to them, I know what I'm doing. That said, other writers I talk to online who are still getting the hang of this whole content creation thing tend to have the same question -- "Why aren't people reading my stuff?"

If you're in that boat, too, the bad news is that the issue probably is something you're doing wrong or could stand to improve on. But the good news is that -- whatever the problem -- it's totally fixable. So here are some excellent examples to think about.

1. Your content has zero personality.

There are hundreds of thousands of other writers out there trying to do exactly what you're doing -- get their writing seen, attract clients, build an audience, and so forth. Lots of them have the writing chops, too, and quite a few of them are going to be a lot better at writing than you are. There's only one thing you have that they don't, absolutely guaranteed -- your unique personality, perspective, and writing voice.

Great content, especially the type you'd post to a personal blog or on a platform like Medium, strikes a good balance between informative and personal. Yes, you should back up your content with facts when appropriate, but you should also be leveraging your personal experience. Tell your audience what you've learned and how you learned it. Speak to them like you would a friend or close relative.

On Rough Exits from Summer and the Coming of Fall

Lady Autumn - Olha Darchuk

So, I guess I should have known things felt a little too good to be true after I got that whole DMV excursion out of the way. It showed up in the mail really quickly, and I figured I could totally just hunker down, stay safe at home, and immerse myself in my writing for a good long while without a care in the world. I even had a nice, long holiday weekend planned for Labor Day.

But then the Friday before, I wound up having to pack Seth into an Uber and go with him to the emergency room for some digestive issues he'd suddenly started having. He also wound up staying in the hospital for a couple of days, as some blood pressure problems also came to light once he was there. He's home now and on meds with plans to stay on top of the issues that were found, but still. 

That was kind of a rough note on which to end the summer, especially considering what a pleasant summer it had actually been up to that point. Life hasn't quite felt right since, so we're still struggling to feel normal again. We've both been taking care to get our rest and make enough time for proper self-care. Hopefully, we'll feel like ourselves again soon.

Getting older is honestly no joke, people, as it's scary how quickly the wear and tear eventually add up. You do what you can to stay healthy, fit, active, and vital... but sometimes it's still not quite enough. If I could tell my younger self -- and young people in general -- just one thing, it would be not to take your health for granted, because one day staying healthy isn't going to be as effortless as it feels when you're 20. I definitely haven't been the worst as far as taking care of myself over the years, but I haven't exactly been the best, either. Definitely food for thought.

........

That said, I suppose it's time to start closing the book on summer and getting ready to move forward into fall. The equinox will be here soon -- around the time of Seth's birthday, actually. The weather is still blissfully cool here, even halfway through September, especially in comparison to other years. No wildfires right down the street this year. Halloween is on the way, with Thanksgiving and Christmas soon to follow. (How it's time for all that again, I'm sure I don't know.)

The World Has Officially Become Strange in My Absence

I went out the other day. And I don't just mean outside for some fresh air, either. I literally masked up, got in an Uber, and ran an errand before Ubering back home. I've voluntarily done almost everything I need to from home for years at this point, so up until now, I've been able to stay the hell away from the outside world without changing much about my routine. And honestly, I would have been happy to continue that way indefinitely, but I needed to get a new ID and couldn't avoid visiting a DMV field office in person.

The DMV errand went just fine, but holy shit, has the world ever gotten weird in my absence. I'm, of course, well aware of how things have changed since the last time I was out frolicking around, never even having heard of COVID before. I knew what to expect in every way. But this was my first time seeing it all with my actual eyes and experiencing it in person. Seth came with me and also hasn't been out since the pandemic began, so I at least wasn't alone when it came to the perceived weirdness of it all.

It's one thing to know everyone masks up and social distances now, pretty much as a rule. It's another thing to actually visit places I've been to plenty of times before and see people doing it. It was a strangely similar experience to nightmares I've had in the past. In these nightmares, I'd visit places I either knew very well or had found very comforting in the past, but something vital would be wrong with them, suggesting it only looked like I was where I was supposed to be. 

My sense of direction has always been terrible, so getting lost was one of my most persistent childhood fears. When I'm anxious, I still dream about it in various contexts, especially those that suggest I might just have to stay lost forever. So seeing definitive proof that COVID really has touched my town -- the place where I grew up and have lived off and on for most of my life -- was a little strange. I can actually kind of see why so many people have so much trouble accepting this reality and choose to deny it altogether because they don't know what else to do.

On the Closing of a Most Productive August

Typewriter - Geliy Korzhev-Chuvelev (1961)

A strange thing I've noticed about the effects of writing and publishing personal essays and similar material. When I am very candid in what I create, I'm left feeling like I've been picking at old scabs or otherwise aggravating old wounds afterward. But it's not as disgusting or negative as it probably sounds. On the contrary, it's actually kind of therapeutic.

For one thing, I find revisiting some of these themes -- especially the ones that are harder for me to think about -- is pretty validating. People relate to and sympathize with these experiences to a much greater extent than I ever figured. It's also allowed me to better understand my thought process at various times, as I've lost touch with it over the years. I used to wonder what the hell I was thinking when I did things like marry my ex or choose to tolerate other people's toxic behavior instead of shutting it down, but I actually remember now. And it makes it easier to be kind to my former self instead of simply writing her off as a coward or a dumb-ass the way I used to.

That said, I've actually finished all four of my entries for Medium's writing contest as of last night. All of them were very personal, and most also found me touching on experiences that are sometimes hard for me to talk about. I don't expect to win or anything (although I certainly wouldn't complain if I did), but I can honestly say I'm proud of what I put out there and think I represented myself well. I also really fell in love with writing creative nonfiction and plan on exploring it further in the future.

On Falling Back in Love With Parts of Your Writing Identity

Melody of Rain - Michael Cheval (2015)

So, I've been sucking to high heaven at staying on top of my writing goals lately. Kind of, anyway. I still have plenty of time to put together some decent stuff, but I have yet to do more than brainstorm when it comes to my essays for Medium's big August writing contest. It's not like I haven't been plenty busy, though. 

I've had more work to do for clients than I've taken on in a while, but that's actually been strangely refreshing. Like a lot of creative people, I really crave variety in my work, so it's never a bad idea to switch things up once in a while. I've been pouring so much into my blogging and personal work lately that freelancing actually felt like a welcome departure from the norm instead of a grind I desperately need a break from. I talk a good game about leaving copywriting behind forever one day when (and if) I ever experience a big breakthrough with any of the rest of my writing. But I doubt I ever actually will. 

If I'm honest with myself, there are things I do like about it and will probably always like about it. Some part of me enjoys putting myself in the shoes of different audiences, educating others, and finding the right words to make a specific product or service sound inviting. Plus, I know some of the bigger writers in my circle have fallen madly in love with big-ticket private ghostwriting -- something to potentially consider if I ever make it to that level. There's always another level to move up to, it seems.

That said, let this be a reminder to any writer who thinks they've fallen out of love with any style of writing they once loved to produce. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so it's worth taking a little time away from something and coming back to it later regardless of how "done" you think you are with it. (That's how I rekindled my interest in creative writing months ago, as well.) In fact, I'm beginning to think writers never truly outgrow aspects of who they are and what they like to do with their words. 

On Discovering My Competitive Spirit

Untitled by Vincente Romero

So, I finally heard back about my application to Medium's new fellowship program. I did indeed get in, so once I receive my contract and get that all signed, I can expect a nice little minimum payment guarantee for August, September, and October. That's great because the more I can count on making through their platform every month, the more time I can actually justify spending over there. 

As always seems to be the case with every online platform, many writers have their gripes with Medium, but I've really been pretty happy with my experience so far. The type of writing I like to do is exactly the type of writing that does well there. I've been flexing my blogging muscles more often and can tell they're getting stronger, as I've been finding it easier to post really engaging content more frequently. And much to my surprise, I even seem to fit into the community there, and fitting in has never been something that came easily to me.

Medium also announced a big Vocal-style writing contest to close out the summer a few days ago. There are four prompts, four hefty cash prizes, an even heftier grand prize that will go out to one lucky writer, and a generous handful of smaller honorable mention payouts. I don't really kid myself that I will actually win anything, but I'm still looking forward to participating. The prompts are all totally my speed and sound like a blast to work with. Plus, you never know. Somebody wins those things.

Granted, it's taken me most of my life, but it's been nice to find things to do with my time and my talents that actually inspire a little healthy competitiveness in me. I was considered very gifted as a child and allegedly had a genius-level IQ, but I hated everything about it -- especially the way I was expected to enjoy competing with other kids for so-called honors that didn't mean anything to me. In some cases -- as with scholarships, apprenticeships, and opportunities to be shipped away to summer school in some other state -- I actively didn't want whatever the prize was. (Anything that added up to being ripped away from my home and being given a ton of extra work to do honestly felt more like a punishment than a reward.)

On Little House and Fading Memories

So, somehow Seth and I have become utterly obsessed with Little House on the Prairie lately. I recently signed us up for a Peacock subscription because it was the only place you could watch that Yellowstone show we thought might be cool. Then we get on there, don't actually watch Yellowstone, and start shooting this shit up on a nightly basis instead. I'm almost embarrassed to admit to how much of a blast I've been having, as I'm not sure I scan as much of a "good, clean family fun" kind of person to those who actually know me. 

I've never actually seen the show before, as it debuted two years before I was even born and went off the air before I was old enough to care much about TV shows that weren't also cartoons. I have read the Little House books multiple times throughout my life, including several times as a grown-ass adult, because I'm a kid at heart like that. Seth's been wanting to introduce me to this for a while for those reasons, as he knew I would like it.

Watching this brings back so many of the thoughts and feelings I used to have when I'd read the books as a little girl. They were a form of wish fulfillment for me for sure, especially regarding how I felt a family should look, behave, and treat one another. I wanted so badly for my parents to love each other the way Charles and Caroline did. And I wanted my brother and me to love and look out for each other the way the Ingalls sisters did. I remember relating strongly to Laura with how tomboyish she was, as well. 

Yes, My Communication Skills Need Work

Isolation Communication - Charles Luna

So, one thing I've been desperately trying to work on lately is being less of a trash-hole human as far as communication goes, particularly online. I am notoriously horrible at it and have been my entire life. Part of that is probably a spectrum thing, as I just kind of shut down socially and isolate more when I've been letting comments on Medium or on social media back up too far without responses. The rest of it is often either a time thing or a genuine lack of knowledge about what to say in response.

So, I guess what I'm getting at is that if you're a reader who's ever reached out to me over email, on Medium, or via any of my social media channels and didn't get a response, it doesn't mean I didn't see it or deliberately chose to ignore it. I likely read it right away through my notification emails, meant to get back to you some other time, and then spaced it entirely. Or I could just be taking my sweet time, which I sometimes do. I often have a lot on my plate -- so much that I occasionally have to pull back temporarily from blogging and social media altogether -- and it can take me a while to circle back to things like answering comments. 

Seriously, the only time I deliberately ghost communications from a reader altogether is if they were rude or trollish. So, if you're not an asshole who went out of your way to try to ruin my day because you don't like my stupid face or something, know that I appreciate you and your response. Even if I never wound up getting back to you because I took so long about it that responding started to seem "weird". Don't let my overblown sense of self-confidence fool you. I'm a master overthinker, and that gets me into trouble sometimes.

On Summer Weather I Can Actually Enjoy for a Change

I almost don't dare speak of it "out loud", even online, because I don't want to jinx anything. But it's been unseasonably cool out here these days. Typically, we'd be frying to death out here, especially considering how awful the climate's gotten over the past few years. That's certainly what's been happening to my friends in Southern Cal and upstate, as well as up in Washington and Oregon -- long-lasting heat waves and ridiculous temperatures well above 100 degrees. 

To be honest, I'm shocked that we're not getting the same, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. I'm sorry for everyone else, but I'm exceedingly grateful not to be dealing with the same. We've been happily making the most of fantastic weather that's been pretty much perfect -- cool and even cloudy for the most part. It even rained a couple of times, which is always welcome this time of year. I'm not interested in a repeat of last year's god-awful wildfire situation.

We've still been enjoying all of our wonderful al fresco meals just about every night, as well. However, we've also (somehow) developed a new interest in playing old-school games at the table for a little while after we've finished eating. So far, we've mostly been playing Uno, but we've been having so much fun, we want to learn more games soon. Interestingly, that's just hilarious to me, as I've always thought card games, board games, and that sort of thing sounded like the lamest thing to want to do with your time. You'd think by now I'd have internalized "don't knock it 'til you try it" a little better. 

On How Holidays Evolve Over the Years

Declaration of Independence (1818) - John Trumbull

I think I've realized a little something about Independence Day over the past week or so, planning for it and all. It's just not the same holiday to me that it used to be when I was a little girl. The majority of the reasons why are a mixture of personal and general. The rest may just be about having grown up a little bit over the years. It doesn't seem like anything much is exactly the same to me at 45 as it was when I was little or even just still young. 

To begin with, a lot of what made the 4th special is just plain off the table for us at this point for reasons beyond our control. With the way climate change has made wildfires such a massive issue in the summers here, the city doesn't do fireworks displays anymore. It's been decades since I actually went anywhere specifically to watch the fireworks, but sometimes I could still see them in the sky over the back fence. I didn't mind sitting outside with Seth a while when I was in the mood, trying to catch a glimpse of the pretty colors, smelling the cordite, and reminiscing about how magical the 4th of July seemed when I was a kid.

We almost always used to grill, but we don't even do that anymore -- also because of the fires. I used to love the smell of a barbecue grill, a wood-burning fireplace, or things burning in general. Now when I smell something -- anything -- burning, it no longer signals thoughts of coziness, fun, safety, and good times. It means danger. It makes me scared I'm going to have to spend the next week or two checking for evacuation alerts every two seconds and barely being able to see without the lights on because the sky is weird and orange in the middle of the day.

5 Struggles Even Professional Writers Deal With

Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos - Francisco de Goya y Lucientes

When I first started putting myself out there with a mind to earn a full-time living via my words one day, there were so many issues I thought I'd just never have again once that happened. At the very least, I thought I'd reach this glorious place with my work where I always felt validated and never again doubted the quality of what I was doing. 

Yeah, not so much. Don't get me wrong. There's a lot to love about being a full-time writer, and I feel incredibly fortunate to be earning a living doing what I love most and consider myself to be best at. But life as a professional writer isn't actually all that different from life as an amateur who's doing what they do just for shits and giggles. 

No two writers will be exactly alike, but the following are a few of the struggles that are common among pretty much all of us, whether we've managed to go professional with our work yet or not. 

1. The fear of rejection remains a very real thing. 

I don't care what other writers would have you believe. None of us ever becomes totally fine with rejection. Do you eventually reach a place where you've thoroughly accepted that it comes with the territory? Yes. Do you get used to it and learn to stop taking it personally? Also, yes. But there will always be a part of you that hangs on tenterhooks when you've submitted something you're really proud of to a publisher for consideration. You really want that "yes," but you're terrified that you'll get a "no" instead.

And even when you know "no" isn't personal, it still sucks to hear. It still means something you worked hard on didn't quite make the cut for whatever reason, even if it's that it just wasn't what the publisher was looking for at the time. But every one of those experiences makes you better and stronger. Every "no" is a bit easier to bounce back from than the one before. 

On Summertime and Dining Al Fresco

Bison-Bacon Burger with Cheddar Cheese

Well, summer is definitely in full effect here, where we live in Monterey. I swear it's exactly as if the earth has a calendar and can tell when we're past the summer solstice. For a while there, I was almost enjoying the warmer weather. I was excited about wearing all my favorite summery makeup looks again and breaking out all my go-to summer jams. (Lana Del Rey, anyone?)

Now, it's just... hot. It's humid a lot of the time, as well. I'm not as miserable in the heat as I was when I was still super out of shape and not taking proper care of myself, but I'm still not liking it. Heat makes it hard for me to do just about everything worth a damn to me, including working out, keeping up with freelancing commitments, and being creative with the writing time I have leftover after taking care of my clients. 

One thing I have liked a lot lately -- dining al fresco. Seth got the little area around the side of the house where we used to barbecue all set up again so we could sit outside once in a while. At first, we just used it to have a beer or a soda and a sandwich after doing some weekend yard work here and there. But once it got too hot in the house for it to be pleasant to eat dinner in there anymore, especially when we've been running the oven, we started taking our dinners out there, as well. 

Strawberry-Feta Salad for Juneteenth

We've always liked eating together, but the fresh air and sunshine have made our dinnertimes into truly welcome breaks from our workdays lately. We sit out there for a while, catch up with each other about whatever's been going on, listen to music, and unwind a little bit before going back to our respective offices. It's really been giving me something to enjoy about summer, as much of the year, it's just too chilly, too windy, or gets dark too early in the day. 

The natural lighting is excellent for food photography, too, so I've been taking advantage of that. These are shots I've taken of some of the summery things we've enjoyed for recent dinners. We've had bison burgers and chili dogs. I made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and strawberry salads for Juneteenth. We've done Chinese, and Mexican, and Italian. 

I love to cook, be creative, and make memories, so it's been lovely to get really into doing all three at one time. It feels great to be sharing food photos regularly again, as well. I used to be so good about it but have fallen out of the habit recently. Really, I'll take anything that makes summer a little bit more bearable, especially anything that's also creative.

Assorted Stuff and Randomness

The Luncheon of the Boating Party - Pierre-Auguste Renoir

My head's been full of weird, existential thoughts lately. Much to the disappointment of people who actually know me, that doesn't always make me the greatest company, but it's been great for my writing. Good. It's been a while since I felt properly full of writing ideas that haven't either been done to death or that just don't quite scan for whatever reason. I haven't been doing too badly at sticking to my publishing schedule lately, either. 

The weather seems to have finally gotten the memo that it's June, as it's been feeling an awful lot like summer lately in ways I don't like. It's been warm, it's getting humid, and the combination of both has been making my soul feel like coming out of my body and floating away somewhere. This has never been my favorite time of year, as I don't like warm weather one little bit. But after last year, summer brings with it a certain amount of fear, as well. I'm trying very hard not to think about wildfires. I really hope the powers that be are better prepared to handle such things this time around.

Seth and I have been trying to make the most of things by using the mild-to-warm weather as an excuse to spend more time outside. We usually eat dinner in the kitchen, but lately, it's been warmer than I'd like in there for sitting, especially after I've just gotten done cooking. Being outside gives me a chance to cool off. Plus, it's actually been nice getting a little bit of sun and fresh air. My body and constitution seem to like it, even if my mind isn't always a fan. 

........

My writer's mind keeps circling back to creative writing quite consistently lately. I'm surprised, actually. Truly creative, imaginative storytelling is something I thought I wasn't interested in anymore and no longer knew how to do. It's been interesting to find out that not only still can I write like that -- and reasonably well -- but that my mind still readily goes there on command and naturally seems to come up with really unique ideas. 

Meditations on Family and Other Conundra

Loss of Identity - Daniella Krtsch

A little while back, someone contacted me through 23andMe's relatives' network wanting to connect. According to the site's records, we are second cousins, which I've since learned means you have a set of great-grandparents in common. He really wanted to figure out how we might share such a close relationship and was hoping I could shed some light on the situation. At first, I wasn't sure I could help him, as I know so very little about my own family. But after wracking my brain a little, I realized that I probably did have a few useful tidbits to share, so I did that. 

To make a long story short, each of us had a biological grandfather whom we never knew, and we eventually figured out that they would have been brothers. My "new" cousin had really been wanting to learn more about the portion of his family he'd never met or gotten to know, and I feel good about having been able to help. Thinking about the concept of family is always a bizarre, somewhat uncomfortable activity for me, though, and I've been doing more of that than usual these past few days. My brain feels weird as a result.

At this point, I'm just used to answering casual questions people ask me about my origins by mentioning all the estrangement and leaving it at that. "No, I'm not that close with my parents." "No, I don't see my siblings. We're estranged." "No, I don't visit extended family for the holidays. I didn't grow up in a close-knit environment and don't know most of my relatives." And so forth. I don't worry as much about how that reflects on me as I used to when I was younger, but it still feels strange to get to know a new person and have to repeat that stuff all over again. 

Most of my family members seem disturbingly normal -- or at least they do on the outside. They look normal, they have normal jobs, and they seem like well-adjusted citizens for the most part. And then there is me -- Miss Eccentric Recluse Writer 2021. Compared to the rest of my family, I look and seem like the kind of person who was probably left on someone's doorstep in a basket by aliens who were just passing through. I'm also the relative on the outskirts who doesn't really vibe with everyone else, making it seem like my oddness must be the reason. But really, I'm just more comfortable with my eccentricity and wear it right out there on my sleeve.

I've Realized I'm a Happy Person at Heart

That's not something I would have been able to say about myself for most of my life. I spent years of my life thinking about what was wrong with the world, judging people who didn't live the way I thought they should and obsessing over the ways I didn't think my own life measured up to the status quo. But I've noticed things have been different for me lately.

It's not that my life changed. I still have the vast majority of the problems I had before and could well be stuck with some of them for the foreseeable future. I just have a better attitude than I used to. Some of that seemed to come with age, but the rest really was about a simple perspective change. It's a change I'm grateful for, as life is just better this way. After all, I only get one of those... a life. I don't really want to waste mine griping, complaining, and judging. 

Life's never going to be fucking perfect.

I used to think that I couldn't be happy until I got specific details of my life in line. When I was an awkward teenager, I thought being prettier would do it. Later on, I thought meeting someone would be the answer. Or finding a way to run a business out of my home so I wouldn't have to spend so much of my time at an office or behind a cash register somewhere. Then I met someone, got married, and still wasn't happy with my love life, so I got a divorce and started daydreaming about the day I'd meet someone better. Once I had a business, I wanted a better one doing more exciting work. 

There's always going to be something else -- some other part of your life that downright sucks or something monumental you finally achieve only to realize your life still isn't the way you want it. And the vast majority of those solutions you thought were going to solve all your problems come with brand new issues of their own. If you wait to allow yourself any measure of happiness or contentment until everything's perfect, you're going to be waiting until you drop dead.

On Writing About the Tough Stuff

I seem to have reached a turning point with some of my writing lately that I thought was still a few years down the line -- the point where I'm no longer just thinking about telling my more challenging stories, but actually sitting down and writing them. And then I've been going and posting them in front of actual people instead of just pouring my soul out into my journal and calling it a day. The topics are all over the place, but they include things to do with my upbringing, my complicated relationships with my parents, some of the abuse I experienced while married to my ex, and so forth. 

I've been at it here and there for a few months now, and it's been a strange experience, especially when it comes to things I'm talking about for the first time. I often wind up feeling like I picked at a freshly-formed scab or lanced an infected boil -- sort of gross at first, with a lingering feeling of just having done something I shouldn't have, but then much better afterward when the pain is gone. I think doing this has made some of these things easier to bear and continue healing from.

I feel like I need to cheer up a little bit soon, though. I don't want to develop a reputation for being someone who complains all the time and never seems to have anything positive to say. I'm a much more joyful, grateful person than I let on a lot of the time -- even on days when I'm not feeling my emotional best. But sometimes, I find it valuable and worthwhile to look at some of the more challenging aspects of my existence through my writing. Here are a few insights for those of you who may be trying to do something similar.

Start by journaling in private first.

I'm not sure exactly what I expected when I started keeping a private journal again a little over a year ago. I thought it would be fun -- a throwback to my younger years when I journaled ferociously, and I knew it would be helpful in working through things without having to bother other people for a shoulder all the time. I didn't really expect it to change much about the rest of my writing, but that's exactly what wound up happening. 

On Tax Day, Freelancing, and All the Rest of It

Today was Tax Day, so of course, I was on Turbo Tax today getting my taxes done. I don't know why I always feel the need to wait until actual Tax Day to file my returns. I'd probably be a lot better off being proactive and getting them done in January or February like all the big boys and girls out there. 

I'm guessing it's because taxes are not fun when you're a self-employed person. You pretty much always owe, and I'm like a dragon hoarding its gold when it comes to money, especially these days. I've been very proud of how I've been able to put money in savings, clean up my credit, and all the rest of it over the past few years. It is not easy for me to let large amounts of money go for purposes like taxes, big bills, or unexpected emergency purchases. And I did really well last year -- certainly the best I've done since I started freelancing full time -- so I had to cough up a pretty big wad of change.

I feel better about it than I would have thought, though. In the past, stuff like this used to really piss me off, but I guess at some point over the past decade or two, I actually grew into an emotionally mature adult. I'm more socially astute than I used to be, so there's something I like about knowing I've paid my share toward the money that goes to pave roads, help people in need, and keep society running. I enjoy feeling like a productive, contributing member of society and all that. 

I guess that means I'm officially an old fart, but whatever. It's all good. It's just money. There's a lot more of it where that came from, and I have a lot of faith in my ability to earn more these days. It certainly feels like a load off -- having something I dread as much as I dread doing taxes officially off my plate for another year.

4 Things You Learn About Yourself by Putting Your Writing Out There

I've had lots of experiences that have helped me see myself with more clarity over the years but starting to put my writing out there where people can actually read it is definitely toward the top of the list. These days I write many different types of material for lots of different reasons, and each has been educational in its own way. 

But I've probably learned the most from the raw, personal stuff I've written from the heart right before sharing it with the rest of the world on Medium or somewhere similar. Some of those lessons were joys to learn, while others were honestly pretty sobering. All of them were valuable. 

Yours will be, too, if you're an aspiring writer -- especially at the point where your writing goes from vegetating in some obscure corner of the internet to actually being read and shared. Yes, it's what writers think they want, and it can be pretty darned great when it happens, but some unexpected insights come with it, as well. The following are good examples.

1. What Your Readers Actually Want to See from You

If you're lucky, there might be some overlap between that and what you personally enjoy writing, but I wouldn't hold my breath. You also might find that what readers want to see from you isn't the same as what they want to see from Jim Bob or Jane Doe. That means you're probably not going to have much luck copying another writer's exact trajectory from relative obscurity to success. I don't care what they promised you in that expensive course they sold you.

Some niches just plain have a broader appeal than others. Whether they admit it or not, most people want to be richer, better, more talented, or more attractive. They want better relationships, a stronger sense of self, and a more prosperous life, as well, so those will always be good topics to write about if you want to be read. But the image you project will have a lot to do with how well you do.

An Odd Start to a New Month

May's been off to a bizarre start so far. I feel like it's been full of niggling irritations and lots of little things randomly going wrong. For instance, yesterday, some guy wrapped his pick-up truck around a pole outside the grocery store down the street. To the best of my knowledge, no one was hurt, including the driver. 

He did manage to knock the power out for at least a few blocks, though, including the power at our house. I knew something good and fucked up had just happened because I heard this loud, almost apocalyptic electric humming outside right before the power went out. Then, later, there was all this smoke in the sky that smelled like burnt wires and electricity. 

Thankfully, we have a gas stove, so I could still finish making dinner despite having to do it in semi-darkness. And I certainly thought we were going to be without power for a good long while, which put me in a pretty bad mood, but thankfully everything was back up and running by the time I was ready to fix everyone's plates. I had a tight deadline to meet for a client before I'd be able to go to bed that night, so it was a huge relief not to have to thumb out the last couple of articles I had to finish on my phone with what was left of my battery charge. 

The whole month of May so far, not to mention the last few days of April, have been kind of like that, though. Many annoying little setbacks you can't possibly plan for, like other people dropping the ball or clients expecting to drastically change the scope of projects without any notice -- that sort of thing. I feel woefully behind with a lot of the things I've wanted to do, especially when it comes to writing. I guess that's life, though -- a constant rotating game of "feast or famine."

On Fiction Writing and Beauty in Middle Age

I can't believe I'm once again over here staring at the tail end of another month. I genuinely don't understand where the time goes or why it goes so quickly. Maybe it really is just something that comes along with being older. This hasn't been my most productive month for various reasons, but I'm hanging in there regardless. 

Luckily, I haven't wholly spaced Camp NaNoWriMo after deciding on a whim to give it a try at the end of last month. I really enjoyed my little journey back into the wide, wonderful world of creative writing back in November. Still, I'd been feeling pretty guilty about not having gotten around to editing any of my work yet. Camp NaNo's been great for that, though, so I'm super glad I went ahead and participated. 

Say what you will about any of the NaNo events, but I've learned not to knock them at this point in my growth as a writer. Not only are they fun and challenging, but they help you cut right through your usual collection of excuses as to why you're not making time for writing projects you say you want to complete. They've shown me what's possible when I put my mind to making it happen, even if I'm genuinely busy.

On that note, I can't seem to stop thinking of even more ideas for wonderful stories I'm sure would be a blast to write. Like NaNo, I thought creative writing was something I'd outgrown over the years and no longer truly enjoyed. This is quite simply not true, and I can tell I'm going to want to start doing it more regularly. I just wish I had somewhere to publish some of these where I could be sure they'd be read and enjoyed. 

At present, I'm playing with the idea of floating a couple out there on Medium here and there just to see how they do. I know P.S. I Love You has a Fiction Friday thing they do, so there must be someone over there who enjoys reading the occasional story along with their daily dose of self-help articles and personal essays. I'm just very excited about rediscovering this side of myself as a writer, and I'm dying to share it with the tiny handful of people who like my things. I suppose it can't hurt. You never know when something will unexpectedly find a larger audience.

On Vaccine Availability and Coronavirus Anxiety

A few days ago, California officially opened up the availability of the coronavirus vaccine to everyone over the age of 16. That means Seth and I can, in theory, go and get ourselves vaccinated as soon as I can get us appointments. In actuality, though, we will probably be waiting at least a little while for some of the rush to die down a bit. The fewer people we have to be around to get this done, the better.

Before the pandemic hit, it had already been many years since I went out regularly. I don't drive or like being around people, so it's almost always easier to stay home and order the things I need online while running my business and handling my other responsibilities around the house. Strangely, though, I never developed any real anxiety about being out in public. If I felt like it, I could easily head out to the county fair, or the beach, or something, have a great time, and probably even want to go back the next day. 

I feel entirely differently about all that today for obvious reasons. Now, when I see other people, I no longer see minorly annoying fellow humans that might -- at worst -- try to suck me into a boring conversation I don't really want to have. I see walking, talking meat-bags filled with germs and death that can absolutely kill me, especially if they're not masked up properly. And I feel like the outside world has become a dangerous place I'm best off avoiding. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I find the idea of getting COVID (or seeing anyone I care about get it) positively terrifying.

In other words, while I'm grateful to be able to have access to a vaccine, I'm hyper-aware of the fact that to get vaccinated in the first place, I will first have to go out unvaccinated into that big, bad world filled with walking, talking germ bags at least twice. And so will Seth. Naturally, I have a lot of anxiety about that on both counts, especially when it comes to Seth. I still have nightmares about the time he almost died in the hospital of pneumonia years ago. I also realize I'm far more worried about him getting sick and leaving me all alone in the world than I am about getting sick myself, although that would also suck.

On Camp NaNoWriMo and Trying On My Editor's Hat

So, I'm doing another creative writing-related thing this month. Admittedly, it's a thing I'm embarrassed to admit I've never done before despite an entire lifetime of writing. I'm actually working with the raw manuscript I created during NaNoWriMo last November to get it edited from start to finish. These days, NaNoWriMo hosts an additional Camp NaNoWriMo event twice a year in April and July, where writers are allowed to set their own goals. I got an email about this year's April event a while back and -- since I, of course, still haven't gotten around to editing my last batch of work under my own power -- I decided to go for it.

Since editing goes a heck of a lot faster than raw writing does, especially when I'm editing my own stuff, I haven't had to be as diligent about doing it every day. (I'm a very clean writer, even when I'm flying by the seat of my pants, so editing is often more like proofreading than anything else.) I've been keeping up really well regardless, though, and have everything a little less than half-done. I'll definitely be able to "win" the event and come out of it with a fully edited collection of short stories. Then they'll all be ready to use, submit, or publish in the future.

I'm starting to feel... almost grown-up these days as far as my writing goes. First, I started making actual money writing things I wanted to write for a change. Now I've not only stuck with a long-form writing project long enough to finish it, but I've also managed to get back to it and tackle the editing. I gave up on the idea of longer writing projects a long time ago, as I thought I didn't have the attention span necessary to finish one. I'm thrilled to see I was apparently wrong about that. 

And the process of reading back through all these little stories has been a pleasant surprise. Most writers complain about going back to old material they've written and finding that they hate every single word of it. I'm having the exact opposite experience. I've been away from these ideas long enough to not entirely remember every little detail of how they play out, so they're almost like new to me. And... they're actually good. Some of them are very good, even if I do say so myself. 

7 Signs You're Dangerously Close to Being a Serious Writer

 

"Writers write. So, if you write, you're a writer." That's usually what I hear being given as the response when someone very new to writing asks someone who's been doing it a while whether they're a "real" writer yet. And, that's... an OK assessment of what it means to be a writer. But it's also a colossal oversimplification that doesn't really tell the person what they wanted to know. 

When I hear other people wondering out loud whether or not they're real writers, I think they're asking the wrong question because there are better ones out there. Am I a professional writer or an amateur? Do I even want to be a professional writer? And if I do want to be a professional writer, am I a serious writer? There are no wrong answers to questions like these. There aren't any wrong reasons for writing, either. 

But if you do take your writing seriously and hope to make it into more than just a fun way to kill some time someday, there are realizations that will happen along the way to let you know you're turning a corner. Here are some of the ones that clued me in to the fact that I was totally getting warm. 

1. You're willing and able to write when you don't feel like it.

One of the most significant differences I've noticed between "a writer" and "someone who occasionally writes" is writers don't wait for inspiration to strike. They actually get that even the most passionate creators aren't always going to feel like it every single time they sit down with a mind to beast some words. God knows I don't! But I write in some way, shape, or form nearly every day regardless, even if all I write is a private journal entry. 

Regardless of where you are in your personal writing journey, consistency is critical. It's how you get better when you're first starting out, and it's how you stay on task when you're ready to start publishing your things, taking on professional assignments, or both. Serious writers treat their writing like a job, meaning they show up and show out whether or not they're in the mood.

On Lana Del Rey and the Beauty of Melancholy

So, Lana Del Rey dropped a new album a few days ago -- Chemtrails Over the Country Club. I've been listening to it quite a lot since, as well as revisiting some of Lana's other music. I've also been having some interesting thoughts about music in general, the role it's played throughout my life, and the effects it has on me still. 

Lana Del Rey's music occupies a strange category for me. It evokes strong feelings of nostalgia and reminds me of all kinds of things despite not also being music I grew up listening to. 

She wasn't even around as an artist when I was still growing up, as she would have been just a child herself. However, her style as an artist and much of the imagery in her music reminds me of how I felt, thought, and took up space in the world way back then. The fact that the beach and many references to life in California come up often in her music underscores all this even further.

When I was young, I had so many strong emotions. Many of them were difficult, dark, and consuming -- like longing, melancholy, and restlessness. Life was difficult for me as a young person, and it took me until I was in my 20s to start coming into my own. But I had an incredibly rich fantasy life at that age, as well. I was always obsessed with some boy I knew, or occasionally I'd construct elaborate fantasies around actors (and even fictional characters) I found objectively attractive. I'd daydream about what I'd be like when I was older -- painfully, sorrowfully beautiful and, of course, so very deep -- as well as all the tumultuous, passionate romances I was sure I would one day have. 

One of my favorite things to do was indulge in these fantasies and wonder what my life would eventually be like while listening to music. If I could be outside taking up space in some beautiful setting while I did it, so much the better. I especially loved going on long nature walks, hanging out on the beach while watching the waves, and spacing out in the passenger seat on long road trips while watching the world go by. I never felt very connected to my family, my friends, or most of the men I dated when I was in my teens and early-mid 20s, so maintaining this sort of rich inner life seemed to fulfill some of the needs those relationships didn't. 

If You Want to Be a Great Writer, Be a Teachable One

Not that long ago, someone posted a screencap of an interaction from Medium's private note function to one of the writing groups I belong to. The screencap showed a polite, very standard rejection note from the editor of one of Medium's bigger pubs. And below it was a horrible, vitriolic response from the writer basically cussing the editor out and telling him to go fuck himself. As a writer who writes and submits many places, Medium included, that shocked the shit out of me -- all that anger triggered by someone saying they'll pass on a piece this time but are looking forward to reading future submissions. 

I am familiar with the publication in question and that editor, so I can certainly say he was the last person who deserved to be spoken to like that. This editor found a self-published Medium piece of mine last summer and encouraged me to let him add it to his publication. The owner of the pub then championed that article and promoted the holy heck out of it. The original editor also continued to leave me kind, encouraging notes when it did well. 

That piece became my highest earner, and I owe that to the team behind that pub. This particular editor is also among the friendliest and most considerate I've ever interacted with on Medium. He's always cool about it when he does decide to reject a submission, and he's a total professional. So the writer who told him off really stepped in it, as Medium editors tend to know one another and talk behind the scenes. If you want to get ahead as a writer -- on Medium or anywhere else -- don't be like that writer. Be gracious, be teachable, and keep points like the following in mind.

Rejections are normal, common, and happen to everyone. 

Listen, I get it. It never feels good to work up the courage to show your work to someone and ask them to publish it only to have them say they're not interested or, worse, to rip it apart. But it comes with the territory when you hope to be published by someone other than yourself. Even writers like Stephen King have stories about the many rejection letters they've gotten over the years, so yes. It really does happen to everyone.

On Turning Forty-Fucking-Five

So, it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm hoping it's a vast improvement on last year's, and so far, so good. As I'm sure everyone remembers all too well, right about this time last year, COVID officially reached pandemic status. Everyone was panic-buying toilet paper, pasta, beans, and just about anything else they could get their hands on. And, like everyone else, I was having terrible trouble even wrapping my mind around the fact that we were facing a fucking plague of biblical proportions.

Unfortunately for us, we were almost entirely out of food at the time, as I was waiting until closer to my birthday to do some shopping. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as none of the stores had a damn thing left. Not even a can of beans or a package of hamburger, let alone the lobster ravioli and pesto sauce I wanted for my birthday dinner or the corned beef I wanted for St. Patrick's Day. I somehow managed to score a lemon bundt cake for dessert, but that's all, and the pickings stayed pretty slim around here for a while.

I've been hyper-paranoid about running out of food ever since. I was never someone who believed the fridge and pantry had to be stuffed as full as possible to feel like there was enough to eat, but now I totally am. I'm still careful not to waste food and to make sure everything gets eaten promptly, but I grocery shop every week now, whether we really need it or not. I'm also extra-prepared this year for all our upcoming festivities. I have a heritage-breed ham and a corned beef hanging out in the freezer for Easter and St. Patrick's Day, respectively. And you bet your ass I have that lobster ravioli and fresh pesto I didn't get last year in the fridge already.

I'm turning 45 this year, which just feels plain odd. I still think of 45 as my parents' age, even though they're both well into their 70s by now. I've loved being in my 40s for the most part, though. I'm saner, more grounded, and more grateful at this age by a landslide. I actually stick with things that I start now -- positive things like daily exercise, balanced eating, productive writing routines, and regular quality time spent with my husband. I feel dangerously close to being one of those people who have their shit together, and it's a nice feeling after being so restless and undisciplined most of my life. 

On Being Female and Writing on the Internet

A funny thing happens when you go from no one giving a flying fuck who you are or what you write about to actually having an audience somewhere that's growing, no matter how slowly. Suddenly, you're no longer just writing for yourself or for a handful of friends who would be interested in almost anything you put out there because they're interested in you. You're writing for people who know nothing about you beyond what they can glean from your content. 

Most are also less interested in you as a person and more interested in what you can teach them or how reading you can make their lives better. Some of those people will be total strangers, and it turns out the experience of writing for such people is a mixed bag. You often get to find out what others honestly think of you because they'll tell you in no uncertain terms sometimes. Hopefully, you've got a thick skin and a relatively down-to-earth mental image of who you are and what you're really about because you will need them.

The vast majority of the folks who interact with my content or decide to get in touch with me outside of Medium because of something I wrote are lovely. They enjoy my writing, get something useful out of it, and want to thank me for writing it in the first place or ask me a question about something I said. I've also had people point out specifics that they enjoy in my work that make me look at myself in a different, more positive light. One of the things I hear the most often is that people dig my authenticity and my strong sense of self. I've even had certain individuals, especially other women, tell me the way I present myself inspires them, and that makes me feel pretty darned good about being me.

But there are always a few sour apples in every barrel. As a heterosexual woman on the internet who frequently writes very frankly on topics like relationships and dating, I've attracted my share of incels and "nice guys" who feel personally attacked by some of the things I have to say. They especially don't want to hear those things from a woman who's attractive, happily married, and old enough to have been around the block a couple of times. It makes it harder to default to insulting my looks or pointing out that I'm single or divorced as proof that I don't know what I'm talking about. They're forced to actually consider my words instead, and that's not something overgrown man-babies like to do. At all. 

On the Origins of My Life as a Writer

Julianne Moore as Evelyn Ryan -- The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio (2005)

I've had people ask me in the past whether I always knew I wanted to be a writer because of how much I talk about loving what I do, but truth be told? Not really. I was considered gifted as a child, and I was good at a lot of different things. But for some reason, no one seemed to think writing was my most impressive skill. I did write a lot and enjoy it, but I got a lot more attention for being good at drawing and painting, so most of the authority figures in my life figured I'd grow up to be an artist.

I actually turned out to be one of those gifted kids who never really belong anywhere or gel well with anyone. I'm not what you'd call a team player, and I've always had a reputation for being downright weird. I'm nice enough, but I also don't necessarily like being around people. I'm introverted, highly solitary, and will typically choose to be by myself unless I get along unusually well with someone. I've also never really been what you'd call ambitious. I've always preferred to just stay home and hated anything that required me to be anywhere else for very long, including school and pretty much any traditional working environment.

I tried a few different jobs on for size in my 20s, including vet teching -- the job my mother wanted me to have. I also found most of the things I tried intolerable because of the weird hours and excessive overtime I was expected to put in. I spent most of my 20s working retail for that reason. I detested all the people contact and forced cheerfulness, of course, but the hours were at least flexible, and if I worked on commission, I could afford to pay my bills working only four days a week.

On Channeling My Inner Carrie Bradshaw

Seth and I finished rewatching The Tudors and are now heavy into a rewatch of Sex and the City. We were really into this show when we first got together years and years ago at this point, so this is bringing back a lot of fond memories. However, so much about it hits completely different these days. For one thing, some of the episodes have aged a lot more gracefully than others. I'm also processing the vast majority of the characters and plotlines a lot differently now that I'm only a couple of weeks away from my 45th birthday. 

Sometimes remembering my 20s -- the way I thought, the things I enjoyed, and everything I thought I wanted out of life -- is like remembering someone else's life. I never would have thought back then that I'd grow into someone with such simple needs and wants. For instance, I wouldn't necessarily spit on the opportunity to travel or explore the world if it came my way at this point, but it's not something I can't imagine my life without anymore. The same cannot be said for things like home-cooked dinners at home with my partner or large, quiet chunks of time to write and create things.

When I first discovered Sex and the City as an idealistic, energetic 20-something, I related a lot to Carrie. But it was mostly because she was quirky, restless, and plagued by relationship troubles. Like Carrie, I thought I was commitment-oriented, but I never seemed to be happy anytime I was actually in a relationship. I also had more trouble being faithful to people than I like to admit. Any little thing that went wrong in my relationships was more than enough to inspire me to dump a partner or -- at the very least -- start looking over their shoulder for someone else. This time around, I no longer relate to this side of Carrie. I do remember what it was like to feel that way, but that's about it.

Soul-Tired on a Friday

I'm so glad it's Friday. I've been dog-tired this week -- the kind of tired that isn't just physical. It's soul-tired, and as is often the case with me, I couldn't really say for sure why I feel this way. There's nothing crazy going on in my personal life. I'm not overworked, burnt out, or frustrated with any of my clients right now. My brain appears to be chewing on something, though, even if it's just doing that weird thing it does and chewing on itself.

One way I know this is the positively bizarre dreams I've been having at night. They don't make much sense, but they come with intense emotions that don't fit the dreams' events whatsoever. For instance, the other night, I was dreaming about a bunch of young priests eating mashed potatoes on a bus. Something about this scanned as very ominous and was giving me horrible anxiety. And then some of them started putting gravy on the mashed potatoes, which was apparently such cause for alarm that I woke myself up out of a sound sleep. Hopefully, I'll go back to sleeping well and having normal dreams soon.

Thankfully, I could kind of see the writing on the wall with my energy levels earlier in the week, so I decided not to fill my schedule but so full as I moved closer to the weekend. As a result, I don't have any freelancing obligations to take care of today and can focus on my own writing for a change -- one reason I'm updating this blog on a Friday instead of leaving it until some point over the weekend or even Monday. It's cloudy out, and I'm just sitting here in my nice, dark room vibing to some Taylor Swift -- not a bad way to end a week at all.