Finding my Holly Jolly This Year

 Normally, it's pretty easy for me to build up a head of steam and some excitement about Christmas. What's not to like? Pretty lights, time off of work with people and dogs I love, an excuse to spoil those people and dogs with gifts and food. It sounds lovely.

But when you're the mom of the family, it also sounds like a lot of work--those lights, gifts, and special moments don't happen without some preparation and planning and this year . . .well, I'm pretty darn crispy. 

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See, last school year, I worked two jobs at the same time because my school district decided that one teacher could teach both children physically in the room and children attending class from home via zoom at the same time, with no change in pay or other responsibilities. People left the profession in hoards. 

But I didn't. I'm back in the classroom this year, but I'm a shell of my self and struggle with energy and empathy exhaustion. 

I did my best to give myself recovery time. I didn't take any summer teaching work despite HUGE pressure to do so, and I kept my writing life low-commitment, too. But seven weeks off didn't do it, and I started the school year still burnt-out from last year. 

So, as holidays approached, my feeling about them was more exhausted-before-I began than excited. 

Chanukah helped. 

Years ago, we decided that instead of nightly gifts, we'd do nightly family activities, sitting by our candles and remembering what we do this for.  The eldest was able to join us for first and eighth night this year, quite a coup in her final year of college crazy-times. We baked, drew, listened to music, played games, and watched movies. One night though, we had to declare "introvert night" where we spent time ignoring one another and going to our separate corners. 

My latkes were perfect this year, and we started a new tradition of JFC (Japanese fried chicken). The prayers and candles still brought me a peaceful contentment. 

Then, we started making the shift into Christmas, and . . . I just wasn't feeling it. Even as I ticked things off my list in anticipation of all the good times (Christmas Eve pajamas, stocking stuffers, once-a-year treats), it felt like stress management more than joy. 

So I decided to turn to books to save me. Up until Christmas, I'm reading only holiday-themed books. Here's what I've read so far: a mix of nonfiction, classics, and romance. 

A Christmas Carol read by Tim Curry was perfection itself, and on a scale of zero to holly jolly, The Christmas Hirelings by Mary Elizabeth Braddon gave me all the right feels. The light romance approach of The Dreidel Spin made me feel like I'd just watched two deserving friends find one another, and the magic of food and kindness made the Moonglow books a delight. There are seven of those, and if I don't fit more of them in this year, I'll come back for them next Christmas. 

I'm in the middle of two more right now: 

A Christmas murder and some sweet morality tales. Quite a contrast.  Still in my Kindle are a few Christmas reads written by friends and colleagues as well that I'm hoping to read before the 25th arrives: 

I'm grateful that my winter break starts a few days ahead of Christmas this year, giving me time to sit by the fire reading and continuing to try to stoke the fire of my holiday spirit, so I can really enjoy the gifts the season brings. I'm grateful, too, that my family understands how tired and crispy I am and doesn't expect me to travel or host guests, but just to rest and recoup. 

Are there any stories or activities that help put you in the holiday spirit, even when your candles are burning low? Tell me about them in the comments! I'd love to know. 

Flung Back Into the Universe

Wow! That was fast. I mean, after nearly eighteen months of hardly going anywhere and seeing only the people in my bubble, you'd think I'd be ready for some travel, some parties and gatherings, etc. But I feel like Wile E. Coyote just after the giant rubberband has snapped, realizing that I've got no control over my speed and trajectory: 

I know, I know. I'm in charge of me and I can say no, but it's not that easy to do. Can I really say no to all my family when they want to see the hubby and me and our kiddos in person at long last? Can I really turn down chances to get back out there at live-in-person author events building some momentum for my life's dream of living off my writing? 

I can . . . but I probably won't. 

That won't stop me from whining a little bit though. I was out of pocket 11 days in June and I'll be out another 9 in July by the end of things. Thankfully, the July stuff is a little more spread out and I'll get 13 days in a row of being close to home between things. 

The tricky bit for me is that I WANT to see all the people and take all the opportunities, but I also rely on time at home during these non-school months to make some serious progress on my writing goals during days with fewer commitments than school-year days. 

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I'm also finding that I'm seriously out of practice. I've always need a bit of introvert recovery time after a big get-together, but my recovery period is longer now, like my social muscles have atrophied. I had barely recovered from my mother's birthday party when it was time to hit the road again to welcome a new baby into my husband's family. 

Thank G-d for coffee. At least my drug of choice is legal. 

As always, I'm seeking balance, because the truth is that I want it ALL but there are only so many hours in each day and only so much Samantha to go around. 

So how are you guys managing the world opening back up? Is it a relief or a new kind of stress for you? 

I'd love to hear about how you're doing in the comments! 

May Reads

Reading has always been my escape, well, as long as I can remember anyway. But like a lot of readers I've talked to recently, falling into a story has been harder than usual for me during quarantine. 

That got worse here at the end of May with police violence leading to protests that became riots. My low-level restless anxiety and imagination full of what-ifs whipped into something larger and harder to ignore. I know a lot of creatives are struggling similarly, with creation as well as consumption of art. I'm managing slow forward progress on my writing still, and am hopeful I can pick up my pace again when the school year ends here in a couple of weeks. 

Despite my struggles, I still read eight books in May, and I really liked six of them. 

I read three books written by friends and colleagues: Gidion's Hunt by Bill Blume, Chasing the Dragon: A Sherlock Holmes Romantic Mystery by Alexandra Christian, and The Reckoning by DM Taylor. 

I've read other books by Alexandra, and I know from being there for some of her readings that her work is clever, sexy, and spiked with humor. Chasing the Dragon: A Sherlock Holmes Romantic Mystery was no exception. Her imagined love story for Sherlock Holmes plays beautifully in the known world of those stories while bringing Alexandra's strengths into play. I hope she writes more in this universe! 

Bill and I have been on panels together at conventions for a few years now, but I hadn't yet read any of his work. Gidion's Hunt  was sweet in a wholesome sort of way, especially considering that it's a story about a teenaged vampire hunter. I loved the family relationships and it looks like Bill has a great foundation for future books in the series in this first volume. 

DM Taylor is a writer I know from Instagram. The Reckoning is a time travel thriller with elements of women's fiction. I enjoyed it quite a bit! It took me a little longer to read this one because I read it as a Kindle edition, and I'm suffering from screen-time overload right now, which is making me prefer paper and audiobook reading to ebooks. 

I also read three graphic novels this month. Graphic novels can be read quickly, often in a single sitting, and the combination of art with narrative really works to suck me in when my attention is scattered. The Sixth Gun, Volume 3: Bound really pleased me. I read the first two in this series last month and loved the way this volume took the focus to Gord and deepened his backstory. I'm looking forward to reading more in this series!

Newprints and Endgames by Ru Xu were passed my way by my thirteen-year-old daughter who loved them. She's a huge fan of Blue, the main character, and I can see why--she's so forthright, scrappy, and determined. Unfortunately, the storytelling disappointed me in that the narration pulled back from hard emotional moments, avoiding conflict that the story really needed. 

The second volume in particular felt rushed, like two books worth of story had been crammed into only one. Still, it evokes a Little Orphan Annie feel in a wonderful steampunk setting and there's a lot to recommend them, especially to younger readers. 

My last two reads were disappointments. I'd been looking forward to reading The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern. I loved the cover and the premise of a secret society surrounding story and books intrigued me. I had positive memories of The Night Circus, so thought I might enjoy another book by the same author, but it really just didn't grab me at all. All atmosphere (gorgeous, beautifully rendered atmosphere) and no substance. Too light on plot and characterization to keep me, especially under current circumstances. 

Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse was my First Monday Classics Book Club choice for the month and it was a slog for me. I kind of had a feeling it was going to be, just remembering the kinds of people who touted its praises back in my undergrad years--almost exclusively entitled young men I didn't like all that much. But, still, I tried to go in without bias and give it a go. 

I found some beauty and insight in the text, but was left with the overall yucky feeling that I get from reading literary representations of male academics having midlife crises which they overcome by having affairs with far younger women. 

There's nothing for me in a story like that. I can't sympathize with the main character, and often can't sympathize with the young woman either because she's a manic pixie dream girl or a complete cypher. Maybe this one was the first novel of this type? I don't know. But it didn't feel innovative or interesting. I've seen this story many times and it's irritated me every time. 

Luckily I'm finishing May in the middle of two good books I'll tell you about in June: Magic for Liars by Sarah Gailey and The Haunting of the Tenth Avenue Theater by Alex Matsuo. 

What did you read in May? What's next on your list? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. 

COVID-19 Birthdays

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My youngest daughter and I both have April birthdays.

The last time I had a birthday party, I turned forty-two. She's still in the party-every-year phase of life.

I had a Douglas Adams themed birthday party, including petunia and whale related art, and had friends over to play games with us. Some wouldn't have considered it a real party because no one got drunk and it was overall pretty quiet, but it was exactly the kind of celebration I wanted. Good food and good fun with good friends.

It's been a few years since then, and I've been fine without another party in the intervening years, so clearly I'm not anyone's definition of a party animal.

I didn't plan to have a birthday party this year. Forty-nine didn't feel like a milestone or anything. I am hoping to celebrate bigger next year, when I hit the big five-oh. But still, knowing that I *couldn't* have a party felt strange. Knowing I couldn't invite my parents down for their usual visit made me feel cut off, even though I'm introverted enough to not really feel that sting as hard as some.

But my daughter . . .well, she turned thirteen and that was a rough one to spend in solitude. It should have been a big sleepover extravaganza with so much giggling. Dad and I should have woken up the next morning bleary eyed and grumpy, but happy that our girl had a great time.

Lots of us are celebrating different milestones in quarantine: important birthdays, anniversaries, big moments of life like retirement or publishing a book. It's harder to make those moments shine when a lot of our go-to celebration ideas are just not available to us.

So, here's what we did for our special days:

My girl was allowed to "skip" school on her birthday and sleep until lunch.

Lunch was the takeout of her choice (Chik-fil-a). Dinner was the mom-and-dad-prepped meal of her choice (pot roast, mashed potatoes, and broccoli).

She helped make her own birthday cake because she likes baking almost as much as she likes eating sweets: Mexican chocolate cake with cinnamon frosting.

We wrote out a treasure hunt set of clues and followed her around the house while she figured out where her presents were, and then built her a fabulous pillow fort from which she watched Wall-e with the dog (Mom and Dad watched from the couch). 

I can't describe how much it lifted our hearts that our baby turned thirteen and wanted a treasure hunt, a pillow fort, and an animated film for her celebratory activities.

We still plan to give her that sleepover with her friends, in a few months, when it's safe to do so. And Grandma has promised her a pet snake and the apparatus to take care of it, too. But she said she felt pretty spoiled, and I believe her.

As for me, I also chose skipping school--a personal day spent to just ignore my teaching responsibilities for a day.

I spent the evening before my birthday dying my own hair pink (I used Overtone and it went pretty well!). Usually, I get a salon day around my birthday and get a cool color for convention season, and this was my substitute.

Sweetman made me breakfast and left me to eat in alone in my quiet office watching sunlight on my plant and glass window and daydreaming. I usually have to hit the ground running, even on quarantine--schoolwork happens early--so taking the morning slow was a treat.

Then, we went for a walk in my current favorite wooded area, picking up some supersweet coffee treats on the way. The weather was perfect: neither hot nor cold, neither cloudy nor sunny. I laid on a fallen tree trunk for a while, watching clouds and enjoying the sound of wind through the leaves and my girl talking about the bugs she was tracking.

My chosen lunch was takeout from Tacos Los Altos, a local taco truck/restaurant with nice people and awesome food. I splurged on a Mexican coke to go with my tacos. A FaceTime call with my sister so she could see me open her gifts, left for me on a touchless drop off.

Then the hubby and the girl went upstairs to do her school from home activities and let me have the "big TV" to watch the Miss Fisher movie on Acorn, which was fabulous!

Another walk in the late afternoon, a shorter one this time, so I could take the elderly dog with us, this time riverside. Then some writing time while Sweetman fetched my Turkish dinner from Talulla's in downtown Chapel Hill (a favorite date and special occasion restaurant for us), enjoyed with ANOTHER movie (two in one day? what!) with my family and then my raspberry chocolate cake from Weaver Street.

Throughout the day, I responded to texts and social media birthday wishes. At some point my publisher sent me my latest book cover which definitely felt like another present! (The book comes out in May!)

It's the first day in many a moon that I can remember entirely setting the pace myself, based only on what I wanted to do.

My older daughter is quarantined separately, so I'll see her tomorrow for a six-feet-apart walk and talk.

Were these the birthdays we would have had in a non-COVID world? Not a bit.

But were they still good? Definitely.

There are joys in quiet pleasures, too, and at the end of the day, I am relaxed and pleased to have a day that was all my own.  What's working for you when you have something to celebrate in quarantine? How are still making these moments feel special?

Plus Sides to the Pandemic at la Casa Bryant

I lean towards optimism in most circumstances, trusting that time and energy spent can improve most situations. At least I believe that nothing gets any better if you don't try something.

Looking at our leadership in my country right now, holding onto that optimism has been harder. But at least I'm in this with an intelligent and thoughtful partner, who has a very useful skillset for managing an isolationist life for a while.

And we're lucky, truly, on a lot of fronts. We're all still healthy. Both adults are able to work from home and are still being paid. The kiddo at home is introverted and digitally connected to her friends, so is handling social distancing pretty well for someone her age. The dog is old enough to appreciate a slow life.

So, looking to the sunny side: here are some plus sides to the pandemic at our house.

1. We're playing with our toys. Over the years, we've collected a lot of them: video games, board games, legos, musical instruments, books, craft supplies, DIY project tools, recipe books, etc. An embarrassment of riches really: more than we can realistically use.

But with extra time at home, we're digging into all these wonderful things and enjoying them. Go past us! For buying things even though we didn't have time for them? At least we're occupied now, without having to shop while we're money worried.

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#funinthewoods with #mygirl today. #natureheals #sunshine

A post shared by Samantha Dunaway Bryant (@samanthabwriter) on Mar 20, 2020 at 4:17pm PDT

2. We're getting out in nature more. I'm a walker. If you follow me on Instagram, you'll see that my feed is full of pictures of beauty I spot on my daily nature walks. It's my main stress relief.

Because I'm a teacher and my hours are early, even during the winter months, I can usually make it to a trail with a little daylight left to burn. But, my daughter is not so much a walker, and my husband isn't usually home in daylight, so it's usually just me and the pup.

But, without commutes to worry about and with the kiddo legit needing a stretch of the legs, we're able to get out into the woods together. It's a real joy to me to share this love with my people (and still the pupper).

3. Lots of family time. My husband and I have been feeling the rush of time whooshing past us in recent years, as our baby turns into a teenager and our older child becomes an adult.

We've struggled to arrange our days so that we get time together as a family, time for each of us with our daughters, time for just the two of us, etc. all while still holding down demanding day jobs and handling the business of the household.

It's been lovely to be right there for our daughter when she hits a bump in completing her school-from-home assignments, to help her problem solve or just be amazed by how well she does this on her own.

We're playing games and watching shows together. We're really in tune with how everyone is feeling and doing a good job balancing the needs of each of us.

I think we'll miss this part when the speed of life picks back up.

4. The house is getting cleaner and better organized. When it's time to "take a break" from our work from home situations, we're each handling household tasks: cleaning up messes that have been allowed to linger, changing out loads of laundry, running the dishwasher, re-organizing storage situations, sorting things, etc.  It gets us moving and clears mental space as well by making our surroundings more pleasant.

It's lovely to slip these tasks into down moments of the work day, instead of struggling to do them *after* work when we're exhausted and wanting some relaxation and more playful togetherness.

We're even making progress on our giant attic project (building an entire new room up there for game storage). The supplies were mostly already purchased, and now we can repurpose that commuting time for mudding, sanding, and (hopefully soon) painting!

5. We're eating better. We're planner-aheaders, the sort of people who usually have a deep freeze full of meats and boxes and cans lining the shelves waiting for use. So, without panic shopping or hoarding, we've stayed pretty well supplied.

Since I'm not coming home from school emotionally and physically exhausted from managing 160 children across the day, our dinners have become more luxuriant affairs, rather than the "what can I make in 30 minutes that is palatable?" trick we'd mastered so well.

So, new recipes, and old favorites that "take too long" for a school night. Cooking together because we're all there. Dancing to music while the potato pancakes fry. I'm enjoying the prep time as much as the eating.


What's a plus side to isolation time for you and yours? Anything you'd like to hold onto when life returns to something more like normal? I'd love to hear from you in the comments.

Summer's End

LeSigh. Can summer really already be over? I didn't get it all done again, of course. Doing *everything* I want to do every summer would require at least five women, and my cloning experiments failed (my daughters turned out to be their own women, with their own things they want to do).

Still, it was a good summer. As I start to have end-of-summer panic, I need to remind myself of that.

Longtime readers already know that I'm a middle school Spanish teacher in my day job, and that writing novels is my secret identity (which I'm trying to make less secret, so people will know I write books and maybe even buy them).

So, summer is, in part, about self-care and recovery for me. It's also my time to live life as a full time writer for a few weeks. So, I'm always trying to balance writing productivity with rest and recuperation and progress on all those life tasks that are hard to complete when I'm not available during business hours (August-June).

To feel good, I really need all three things: rest, writing, and life/project time.

As I write this, I'm at the beach, making sure that I end my time with sea salt on my skin and a brain scrubbed clean by sand. I did pretty well on the rest and recuperation angle.

I walked damn near every day with my dog, ate breakfast (a luxury I can't find time for during school), read sixteen books (and may finish another one or two this week), visited my parents for a few days, took a nap a few times (I'm terrible at napping, even when I need to), and watched more television than I watched in the entire six previous months (I finished a few shows: Good Omens, Wynonna Earp, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Black Lightning, The Boys, and, of course, Stranger Things). I started Downton Abbey, so that'll probably take me all school year to finish now :-)

Home/life productivity gets a middling score. There was one big thing I wanted to get done involving paperwork and I didn't get there, because I couldn't find all the right pieces. I admit to procrastinating on looking, and I'm mad at my past self for being so bad at sticking to ONE organizational system for important papers so you can find them when you need them. Luckily there isn't a hard deadline on that one, so I can keep looking and get it done this fall.

I did work out some financing for a home improvement project that will make a big difference to our lives, and I did get my home office several steps closer to the space I want it to be. I'm especially proud of that since everything I've done in there, I've paid for with writing money only (which is why it's all DIY and second hand, but still: I paid for it with my writing money).

Some of my home/life project energies went to my oldest daughter, helping her arrange her college monies for fall and move into her FIRST APARTMENT! (yikes, I'm old).

Writing went well. I set aside the novel I've been working on for the past year (YA dystopian romance, working title: Thursday's Children). It needs more time to simmer before I can get that dish ready to serve and I finally admitted it.

I started a new novel (gothic romance, working title: The Architect and The Heir) and made lots of progress on my first all-indie project, a collection of 13 weird tales I plan to release this Halloween, choosing and organizing the stories, self-editing, arranging for cover art and professional proofreading, and learning some new software for formatting.

My daily writing chain is now 2,144 days longs (nearly six years), and summer's work included nearly 35,000 words on the new novel. It's flowing well, which speaks to the importance of following your passion in your writing (another balance: between focus and dogged stubbornness).

I've wanted to write a gothic romance since I first read one, when I was around eleven years old. It took me a while to actually do it, but it's the most fun I've had since the first Menopausal Superhero novel.

I think I probably wrote this post primarily for myself, to look back on in a couple of weeks when I'm haranguing myself and accusing myself of having wasted my entire summer once I'm buried up to the neck in schoolwork. After all, I hold myself to very high expectations on a lot of fronts. I'm meaner to myself than I would ever be to anyone else. So, it's good to make myself admit from time to time, that I got this!

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away: Writer's Retreat!

I love my family and my teaching life, but sometimes they feel like they're going to squash me. At the worst of times, it's like people are grabbing chunks of me and carting them off, and at the end of the day, all that remains is a pile of vibrating nerves that no one else wanted.

All my life, writing has been where I run away to when there's too much. It's solitary, but creative and productive: at the end of it, I've created something. It's personal and self-expressive even when it's fiction. It satisfies something deep within me that can't be soothed by any other means. It's why my daily writing time matters so very much. Even when my writing feels stymied, it's still a selfish little moment that is only about what I want to create. It really is a mental health release valve for me, even more than walking (and walking helps me immensely, too).

This past weekend I was lucky enough to get run away from my regular life for three days for a writer's retreat. I spent those days in a lovely mountain house with six other writers, writing, talking, walking, reading. I didn't make a meal, wash a dish, wash anything, or give ANY of my time to something that wasn't about my writing life.

I'm discovering that short bursts of focused time like this are essential to my writing life. I can't always take a trip and surround myself with like-minded folks, but at least during summer vacation, I'm fortunate that I can arrange a few days during which I am only a writer, during which I can bring the full force of my considerable concentration to my current creation and push the rest aside, just for a little while.

I send the youngest to camp or to visit Grandma. I tell my family that I'm off the grid. I cash in all those gift cards I received for teacher appreciation day on take out meals. I prep ahead with snacks and tea so I don't have to go anywhere. I don't answer the phone.

I don't think I'd fare well if this was my life all the time. I am a writer, but I'm also a teacher, a mother, a wife, a friend, a sister, and various other kinds of human and even though I run towards introverted, I'm not willing to give up all my other loves JUST for writing. Even Emily Dickinson had people visit and wrote letters, after all. I do need and want people. I'm not really a hermit, even though the idea is tempting sometimes.

But as a respite, it's wonderful to run away from everything else for a little while and give myself over completely to my life of words. May you all find a respite like this when you need it, an oasis that lets you refill your well and gives you the wherewithal you need for harder times.

Devouring Books

I've always been a reader.

Heck, I think I was a reader before I could read.

I'd cajole my mother into reading books to me over and over until I had them memorized, including which words were on which pages.

I'd build houses out of my books and sit inside them and read other books.

As an adult, I still read a lot, but of course, it's not as much as I did back then.

There are other demands on my time, and, here in the twenty-first century, I have so many choices for how to spend my limited leisure hours, that I sometimes don't choose books, but play video games, listen to podcasts, or watch TV and movies on a streaming service instead.

All of these feed the part of my brain that wants story, too.

I'm finding that I go through phases where I'm not reading much at all, where I seem to grow persnickety and hard to please and start books only to abandon them, wandering off in a moment of inattention. It's not necessarily that there's anything wrong with those books, either. It's more about where I am in my brain at the time. I do think that loving a book is partly an accident of timing: finding that book at the right time for you to read it.

I hate those times, though. I feel nearly as broken when I can't read as I do when I can't write.

So, I'm delighted to be going through a book devouring phase right now.

I set a yearly goal of 52 books, one per week. A lot of years that's almost too much, especially if I choose any lengthy or challenging books.

But this year, I'm already 8 books ahead.

Part of that is because I've been choosing some shorter, lighter works here lately, craving my escape in a big way. The pressures of the end of the school year and getting my house and heart ready to face my daughter's graduation from high school are intense.

Losing myself in imaginary lives and imaginary problems is my kind of self-medication for high stress times.

Some highlights of my 2018 reading so far (click links to see my full reviews on Goodreads):

The Girl With All the Gifts by M.R. Carey: a tour du force when it comes to voice and pacing. I was intrigued by Melanie from the get-go. Carey meted out strange details at just the right times to keep me from ever getting bored as I figured out the world the story was taking place in.

True Grit by Charles Portis: another fantastic example of what a unique character voice can do for a story. Mattie Ross is one of a kind, for sure. A fiercely independent and determined person with a black and white personal morality that is her north star.

The Woman in Black by Susan Hill. A traditional gothic ghost story in a lot of ways, but turned on its ear by having the victim of the ghost be a young Englishman instead of a wide-eyes young female ingenue.

Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. A brutal and beautiful story of a serial killers, his victims, and the police officer who is on his trail.

Hmmmm . . . .looks like voice is key to getting in to my reading good graces this year. All four of those books are amazing character-driven pieces with unusual voices.

Really, I've had great luck with my reading choices this year. Hardly a dud among them. How about you? Read anything good lately? Anything that *really* grabbed and held you? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.

Sick Day

I'm home sick today. And, yes, I'm actually sick.

I've been sicker, but I'm definitely not well enough to handle 150 middle school children today, so home for a day of rest it is.

Here's hoping it helps enough to give me the wherewithal to handle my very busy Friday-Saturday-Sunday.

Like many the modern woman, I demand a lot of myself. I work a demanding full time job, handle at least half of the business of the home, and still maintain a writing life.

So, what don't I do? Well, self-care. I don't rest enough. I don't always eat well or take proper care of my body.

So eventually my body is forced to give me a smack-down and make me slow down for a moment. And that's what she's doing today.

This whole me-body-mind divide concept is kind of funny, because it's all me, of course. But I do

tend to feel like there are warring forces vying for control of my time, and that they're all within me. My body wants me to fuel it properly with rest, food, and exercise. My mind wants to explore pursuits that absorb it. My metaphorical heart wants "quality time" with those I love.

It's all balance, and when it skews too far in one direction or another, sickness can be the re-set button.

So today, I am taking it slow. Drinking tea, lying still in the dark, reading, and remembering to breathe.

Next time, I'll try to do that BEFORE it makes me sick.

Being Reasonable with Myself

It's not too late to join the fun at the DIYMFA book club. I'm enjoying the community so far, and the prompts are fun to explore. Today's prompt asks about a time when I had to honor my reality. 

Generally, I'm more of an Adam Savage frame of mind when it comes to reality: 

I want everything: to be a great mother and wife, teach brilliant lessons, cook magnificent meals, exercise enough, write all the words, travel to all the places, see all the shows, volunteer all the places, and still find time to read, eat, and maybe watch some movies.

You should see it when I'm sick. It's terrible. I'm the worst patient. I get so angry about being slowed down for recovery!

But sometimes, I have to admit that it's not actually possible to do it all. I do, after all, still require sleep, despite the amount of caffeine I consume.

My husband is my best reality-checker in this regard. He spots it when I've really overbooked myself and am going to drive myself crazy, and expresses his concern somewhere between "gently" and a "come to Jesus talk" depending on the severity of the situation. We have some very direct talks about choosing priorities and letting some things go, but not the ones that will really give me regrets.

When I committed to writing every day and really giving this whole "writing thing" my best effort, he helped me plot out the parameters for what that could mean in our family, without bankrupting us or alienating all my loved ones. He's really got my back in the best possible way in all this. It's hard for me to say no to an opportunity that appeals to me, even when it's not practical to participate.

An example of this is the Son of a Pitch contest. It's a pitch contest organized by a writing friend. I've been a hosting blogger and second round feedback provider and judge for a couple of years. It's a great contest, with a really positive and supportive vibe and I LOVE being a part of it. But it's held in September and February.

Did I mention that I'm a middle school teacher by day?

So, yeah. September and February are the starts of semesters. Not the best timing to take on something so all-absorbing for an entire week. Especially since I also insist on working on my own WIP daily at the same time--that one is a deal-breaker for me, the one promise I've made to myself that I DO NOT break.

In September, when I last did Son of a Pitch, I really struggled to find the hours needed to do it right. So, to honor my reality this year, when I was invited to judge again, I said that February is really not good for me.

When you're still building a writing career, it's hard to give up an opportunity, hard to trust that there will be others. But it's all about balance and a girl can't live on literary fumes alone.

I'm still learning to be reasonable with what I expect from myself, setting the bar high enough to push me without breaking me. I suspect it'll be a lesson I learn and relearn all the days of my life.

The Joys of Cheesy Movies

I have a metaphorical cholesterol problem. I just can't get enough cheese!

No, I don't mean cheddar or muenster or gouda (though all of those are also good-ah).

I mean so bad they're good, groan-fests: cheesy movies.

Call them what you will. B movies. Cult Classics. Guilty pleasures. Misunderstood genius. Mistakes. Train wrecks. Disasters. Silly. Fun.

The "it factor" that defines them for me seems to be that in popular, general terms, these movies are not regarded as good. They wouldn't win Oscars for anything, not

even set design or soundtrack. They're melodramatic and overwrought. The plots are weak and require serious suspension of disbelief. Characters are drawn in broad strokes, not with subtlety or nuance. They don't grow or change. The journey is just surviving the adventure.

But they have heart.

I'm not as fond of the ones that are doing it on purpose, stuff like Sharknado or Snakes on a Plane. A truly cheesy movie has to be sincere, so it can't know that it's a cheesy movie. It has to believe in itself or the magic doesn't work. Sure, the costumes may be bad, the acting even worse, but there's something about the very lack of professionalism and controlled artistry that is a siren call for me. There's no distance. They *mean* it.

Especially in the summertime, when I'm in recovery from nine months of relentless, demanding classroom work and I want my escape, I turn to cheesy movies. Candy for my brain. Wonderful, possibly hallucinogenic candy.

I blame my father.

We used to watch the worst movies together after cartoons on Saturdays, so besides the attraction of the high drama and unbridled imagination or the allure of no-holds-barred who-cares-if-you're-offended transgressiveness, there's also a nostalgic comfort like Chef Boyardee and Ovaltine. Maybe it's not good for me, but it's cozy.

So, whenever I'm not busy this summer (and I'm awfully busy, considering it's summer: teaching, going to conventions, meeting deadlines, etc.), you can find me trolling the bowels of Netflix looking for the best cheese. (Or at the Carolina, where sometimes they play it for me on the big screen!).

Teachers are Superheroes

Ah, another year over and what have you done? Well, I completed my twenty-first year as a teacher, and, is often the case when I'm finishing a school year, I've got mixed feelings about the sustainability of this as a career choice.

While I watched students take state and federally mandated tests for days on end and tried not to the let the rage and heartache of all that wasted energy eat me alive, I considered the idea that teachers are superheroes.

Now, I don't mean anything very touchy-feely by that, though, of course, we do change and save lives. But I'm at the cynical end of the year, and will need to spend summer recapturing my optimism and faith. Right now, I'm just thinking that you *have* to be a superhero to do this work.

There are so many similarities!

Teachers need secret identities. Remember that time you saw your second grade teacher at the grocery store and just about had a heart attack thinking that teachers might go shopping? There's also the way people FREAK OUT if it turns out that a teacher (who is old enough) drinks a beer in public, or is photographed wearing a bathing suit (at the beach) or cusses in a social media post.

It's changing, and is definitely better from the days when you couldn't teach if you had a husband and being a teacher was akin to being a cloistered nun in the public eye, but many of us still build a protective persona and keep our private life as separate from the work as possible. It's not quite a cool domino mask and a cape, but there is a whole separate me hidden from my work life.

It's a job, but it's also a calling. Just like being a superhero.

Teaching is also one of the few professions where people who have no qualifications, expertise, or experience beyond having attended school themselves feel free to pass judgment on how the job should be done. I try not to be bitter about this and dwell on the idea that this is because teaching, at least through high school, is a female-dominated field.

Like superheroes we are vilified or lauded in the press and public discourse with very little in between, and we are expected to do the job for very little material gain because we're supposed to have a nobler, higher calling (which apparently matters more than whether you are a college educated professional who qualifies for food stamps).

So, if get the vitriol and criticism of superheroes, do we get the powers? Here are some of the superpowers you need to handle this job.

Endurance: Depending on what's going on in your school building on any given day, you may have to go as many as six hours in a row without any kind of break--bathroom, food, coffee, silence, and personal time are for wimps! You also have to be "on" for six hours a day, responding with grace under serious pressure and dealing with every curve ball thrown your way.






Speed: Teachers in my building get 90 non-supervisory minutes a day (if you don't have any meetings

taking up that time) in which to prep 2-7 lessons (depending on your course load), complete any assessment and correspondence, research and collaborate with colleagues, eat and see to personal needs. I can get more done in 90 minutes than many people can do with an entire day.

Extra-sensory awareness: Alone in a room with 30 tweens? You'll need eyes in the back of your head AND a sixth sense for trouble. A little ability to foresee the future wouldn't hurt either. I'd stay away from mind-reading though. You *don't* want to know what they're thinking.







Bullet-proof flesh: Kids are mean. Adults are worse. You'll need that bulletproof flesh to protect you

from attacks of all kinds. (Sadly, some of these bullets are literal, but we'll keep the focus metaphorical for this blogpost).

Reflexes. Emergencies, real or imagined, abound in buildings full of children. A teacher has to be able to jump in with no preparation and build a functional airplane before we hit the ground, all while calming panicking people.

Flexibility. Make all the well-constructed lesson plans you want. They WILL change, usually at the last minute. Resources will fall through, disaster will strike. The wifi will fail.

Wealth. Okay, this one's a pipe dream, but you'll have to teach with fewer and fewer resources every year, because this country likes to SAY it values education, but if you go by where our dollars are spent, we value LOTS of things more highly than education. So, it would help to be independently wealthy, so you can afford to buy all the clothing, food, and school supplies your students come to school without. If I *were* Bruce Wayne or Oliver Queen, you can bet my students would be spoiled rotten with all the best equipment, trips, and experiences.

IWSG: Burning Fast and Bright or Burning Out?

I'm not one to turn away opportunity. After all, you don't know if it will come knocking again at all, or that you'll be free to take it at another time. But even though I've got a ready publisher willing to take on the fourth and fifth books of my planned 5-book series, I'm taking a pause from writing them.

It's scary as heck.

I'm worried that I'll lose momentum in sales and building buzz. But I'm also worried that if I keep going at this pace, I'm going to burn out and lose my love of the work.

A little history:

I got my first book contract in 2014 and the book (Going Through the Change: A Menopausal Superhero Novel) came out in spring 2015. When the first book was accepted, I was partway through writing the second, Change of Life. I finished it in early summer 2015, then quickly wrote a novella in the same world for an anthology my publisher was putting together (Indomitable Ten). Both the anthology and the second book came out in spring 2016.

Meanwhile, I wrote another novella and two short stories in the same world for other anthologies (Theme-Thology: Mad Science, The Good Fight 3: Sidekicks, and The Realms Beyond ), a handful of stories for my blog and newsletter readers, and the third novel, which is is in edits now and has a summer 2017 release planned. That makes 10 works of varying lengths in a single universe in three years writing time.

That's quite a wave I've been riding, and I'm tired.

I couldn't be more thrilled to have so much interest in my work, but this pace is exhausting (it doesn't yet pay enough to let me cut down on the day job), and worse than that, it's not fun.

Readers of this blog probably remember that I had to do a revise and resubmit on the third novel. Looking back on it, I think I ended up in that spot due to a combination of trying to work too fast and burnout.

So, I'm doing something I hope is brave and not stupid: I'm not writing the fourth novel yet. Instead, I'm going back to a completely different novel, my NaNoWriMo project from 2015 and making it my 2017 project to finish. I want to have it ready for submission by August. It's a middle grades novel, which doesn't feature any superheroes, but does have a lot of science and magic: Rat Jones and the Lacrosse Zombies.

I'm thinking this is a good idea for a few reasons: finding the fun again, not burning out, diversifying my output.

I'm thinking this is a bad idea mostly because I'm worried that I won't be able to easily pick it back up again after taking a break or that readers will have lost interest.

But I figure that it's better to have readers lose interest because of a longer wait for book four than because I release a sub-par book four. This would be a great time to have a crystal ball and know that my decision is the right one to serve my writing career, but since I don't, I'll just ask all of you to tell me I'm doing the right thing. I am, right?

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If you're not already following #IWSG (Insecure Writer's Support Group), you should really check it out. The monthly blog hop is a panoply of insight into the writing life at all stages of hobby and career. Search the hashtag in your favorite social media venue and you'll find something interesting on the first Wednesday of every month.

This month the group asked "Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it? Did it work out?" So far for me, the answer is no, I haven't. I've just begun reworking an "old" novel, but it's only been two years since I wrote the draft I have, so it's not really that old. In fact, I haven't been at this long enough in any serious way to have any really old work to go back to. Before I was thirty-five, I'd only written poetry and essays, not novels. I do have one trunk novel I'd like to go back and revise at some point, but we'll see what we see.