Because guns are for wimps...

I've spent the better part of the past couple of weeks sunk into a depression in which I could not write. Nothing I had interested me. The WIPs I had been working on so diligently irked me.

I spent time watching movies, my favorites that always gave me some form of inspiration before, but nothing worked. Not even reading my favorite authors.

I was on edge, I paced, I was restless and irritable. Nothing interested me. Not shopping, not the library, not going out. I sat at my computer and stared at the screen as if something would magically appear.

Nothing.

One night, while lying in bed, I realized something was happening in my mind. The beginnings of a spark was trying to form. Weak and faint, I carefully nurtured it. I sheltered it. I slowly, and with infinite care as not to smother it, fed it ideas and what ifs, letting it grow on its own, until the spark became more that just a little spark.

I have, in my mind, a story. It's a story I have no ending to, nor am I entirely sure if there's a middle. I only know there's a beginning, but I'm not worried. All stories start with a beginning.

I realized the process from nothing to this tiny spark was a lesson, one I think a perfectly good lesson for me to learn.

Don't push myself where and when I'm not ready to go yet.

I have one novel about to be published. I went from writing it, to editing, to submitting, to being picked up, to editing, to trying to promote myself and my book, to trying to write more stories, while trying to keep up with my falconry, my family. I never once gave myself time to sit back and just breathe. Even now, while writing this, I'm also writing the beginnings of the new story, while trying to figure out how to better promote myself, and not worry that the soon to be released novel is going to bomb, and OMIGAWD, WHAT ABOUT REVIEWS?!? WHAT IF IT SUCKS?!?

I was forced to take a step back and not write until the dust settled.

I'm still worried. I'm still struggling. Best of all, I'm still writing.

I just started the beginning of my next novel. It has nothing to do with "Moonlight and Magick". I'm digging a little into my heritage, using Chinese characters. Paranormal romance. With swords, because I love swords.

Because swords are bad ass.

=)

(By the way, I also own guns, so really, the title is a joke...)

The State of Isobael...

If there's nothing more I hate, it's a double whammy of bad luck.

I've been dealing with a sudden case of depression AND writer's block, although I'm not sure if one feeds into the other, or one is caused by the other. Either way, it sucks major suckage and I'm rather tired of the whole thing.

I have stories upon stories all rambling around my brain, none of which really want to lend a hand in getting down into my word processor program. There are days I even wonder WHY I'm a writer when I can't seem to write.

In the meantime, I've been going through some of my old stuff, trying to clean them up, edit crap out now that I've learned a few new things. It's slow going, and watching the word count decrease in leaps and bounds makes it even more depressing for me.

It's a neverending cycle, isn't it?

Anyway...

Hey, for something different, go check out my other blog. My falconry blog. See some pictures of my kestrel. =)  http://isobael-falconry.blogspot.com/

Also, Romance in the Backseat is having a conference.
http://www.romanceinthebackseat.com/bbpcon.html




Bloggers and Publishers have the same goals, to bring in readers.  This Conference is to discuss what is working online to promote books and what we can do better.  How can we work together and with authors to bring readers online?  What are Publishers goals in working with Bloggers? What are Bloggers and Reviewers looking for?  Join us for panels, discussions and giveaways.

Check out the link and read up on what's going on!

Addendum to Social Group Mediums

I mirror this blog on my MySpace, LiveJournal, and FaceBook accounts. I received feedback on LJ and I wanted to post it here to share.

"I suppose that it depends on also knowing which people you meet in the digital world can become real life friends. If the knee jerk reaction is "none of them" then I don't see the point of going for a digital fix since you'll know you'll never meet this person in real life and form a non-digital friendship.

I've made many friends online that I have become real life friends with, I moved to a different state and have a new and more rewarding life because of bridging the gap. I've been to the UK and have had people from there and from Spain and Canada and across the US come visit me and I feel very lucky because of it.

Besides, there have been real life friends that can let you down just as easily as a digital one - if you let them."



My response was:


You know, when I hit send, I cringed. I knew I was leaving something out..

My best friend lives 3,000 some miles away from me. We met online, role playing channel. She's come here with her daughter, and I went down there to her home.

I consider her my best friend, someone I can call to cry on her shoulder and she knows she can do the same with me. I was there when she had a life problem, she's been there when I needed someone to tell me I can do it, or smacked me upside the head to straighten me out. I love her dearly.

So, it's not that I'm saying you can't trust people online or you can't make friends...it's more along the lines of just because they list you as a "friend" you shouldn't expect that you're now a girlfriend, and if they have a gathering of friends and you never received the golden ticket to the event, you shouldn't feel as though they betrayed you, or that you're worthless.

It's harder for people with depression and social anxiety, ESPECIALLY the social anxiety aspect because we're already tiptoeing that fine line of being uneasy with meeting people, having friends. The whole lack of self esteem and self confidence blows chunks, because we already thing we're less than dirt. Having it "shoved in our faces" is gut wrenching.

Again, I'm not blaming anyone. Really, the post originally was to share my recent experiences with a few of the social mediums I belonged to.

Social Group Mediums

I've had to take a step back from a few social sites because I was too dependent on the social aspect of them.

As someone with social anxiety, they became a crutch for me and I have to remind myself I can't depend on Twitter, or any other social website, for my "fix". While, it does in a way help with my social anxiety by not keeping me so isolated, and I do make new "friends", these friendships are not "real".

Meaning, I can't depend on these "friends" to be friends. Yes, they show concern, they make supportive or sympathetic noises at the appropriate moments, but these are not "real" people. These are names and faces through a digital screen. Nothing will, nor should, replace having a friend or friends that are flesh and blood. Nothing should ever replace the tangible.

It was getting to the point where I was feeling ignored. When I posted something and those I counted on to be a friend DIDN'T comment back, it hurt. When it continued, I began to second guess myself. Did I maybe say something wrong? Did I not say something when I should have? Did I zig when I should have zagged? Or maybe it was because I'm not the same social class as they are. Maybe my lack of brain/beauty/money/time...or maybe because I'm married and have a child is what makes them withdraw from me?

When it comes down to losing sleep and worrying, unable to eat...breaking out into tears, because I lost "friends" somewhere, then something's wrong.

It had become a crutch, a distraction, and it had to stop.

Before people get offended and drop me from their lists, I want to make something quite clear. None of this is a personal attack at anyone. Well, except at myself, really.

Just because I list you as a friend and you return the favor, it doesn't mean we're best buds and I have to remember that. You include me in your life through a digital medium. You are not inviting me into your home, you're not inviting me to drop by, swim in your pool, have coffee, or have dinner. I shouldn't feel slighted if there's no invite to that slumber party/girls' night out/chick flick/gossip fest.

We share things in common and we share our experiences through a screen and a keyboard. No where in this common agreement did you say "Call me and we'll do lunch", or "I'll be there for you", or "If you need a kidney"...

It's a hard lesson to learn, and an eye opener. It's terrifying for those of us who suffer from depression and social anxiety. Often times, these go hand in hand with lack of self confidence and self esteem, and this lesson tears at what little we do have, shredding us until we're so vulnerable and sensitive that we have to retreat into ourselves in order to regroup. Often times we don't have the means, or support in which to seek help. We have to build those walls back up, one brick at a time, alone.

On the other hand, I understand people have to protect themselves. I don't blame people who keep themselves back, offering only a digital connection. Hell, I have "friends" who're famous. Successful authors, published, rising stars. I understand they can't be there as a friend, or offer any support or advice in any way. We have to protect ourselves in whatever way we can.

Scary, isn't it, that the internet is suppose to open the world, make the world a smaller place, and yet we have to isolate ourselves, protect ourselves even more.

Social Anxiety Sucks...

You ever get the feeling you did something wrong, or insulted or offended someone, but you can't remember ever doing it, but you know or feel something happened because people you thought were friends are pulling away, barely talk to you, or want anything to do with you anymore?

Yeah, I'm getting that feeling.

I don't know anymore. It's getting to the point where I'm on the edge of closing myself off because I don't understand people anymore. I don't know what people want from me. Maybe I'm not the friend type. Maybe because I don't have the money to go out or travel or do things they can do.

Sad, isn't it?

Social anxiety sucks.

Past couple of days...

Life has been a bit more stressful recently. Without going into detail, we'll just say my Depression has launched an all out assault on my ego and while NONE of it had anything to do with my writing that instigated it, eventually, it did trickle down and chewed up my sense of self worth as a writer.

It got to the point where I was feeling isolated, that no one cared if I just left, no one would even NOTICE I was gone. Darkness ensued and I knew that if I let it simmer and stew, I would do or say something I'd never be able to take back. So, I took some time off from the 'net and my writing. No editing, no writing whatsoever.

Went to the beach to go clamming.

Digging into rocky beach in search of those elusive clams, the ones you're allowed to keep, I realized my writing was similar.

I have to dig down in order to find the words to write, the right words. Some words wouldn't fit, some words were unnecessary, and they'd have to be thrown back into the wellspring. Sometimes, that hole would fill up with water and made finding the right clams more difficult. Sometimes, you dig up a piling worm and those things are just NASTY...frightening...and it reminded me of insidious thought-worms that invade the mind, the ego, eating away at self confidence. Those I had to toss away, as far as I could.

I spent time with Mother Ocean, just standing there at the edge of the water. To tell you the truth, I can't even remember what I thought about. Maybe I didn't think of anything. Maybe those thoughts weren't meant to be shared. I don't know.

I do know that when I returned home, I crashed and crashed hard. I slept for 15 hours straight.

I had some strange dreams. The first part of the dream I was a part of a class on a bus. We were going somewhere, but we found ourselves taken hostage and driven to an estate. I remember being worried because I knew the person who had us kidnapped was going to be attacked. A coup of some sort. I ran out to the fountain and pretended to be dead, but when someone poked me with a gun, I started to cry. I didn't want to die. Then there was shooting all around and I just lay there, terrified to move. When it was over, the coup had won and the bad guy was killed. The successors were good guys and returned us home.

Then the dream shifted and I was at home. I went to the fridge to get a mouse to feed my kestrel, but the mouse I put in the fridge wasn't there. Instead there was a young rat. I took it out and dropped it on the floor because it was still moving. But, it was a mutant rat or something because it had tentacles and when it rolled over on to its back, I could see where the chest had been cut open and it had no guts, only a heart and lungs. The heart was beating and I could see it breathing. I didn't want to touch it but I managed to pick it up and toss it outside.

Then I woke up.

I always get weird dreams when I commune with Nature.

In other, more mundane, news, NanoWriMo is a go. I have a partial outline down as to the story I'm going to do. Characters are jotted down.

Yes, paranormal romance. Well, maybe urban fantasy/paranormal romance. Not sure.

I'm very excited and a lot nervous. LOL.