Learning how to live

Where to start, where to start?

Well first, I’m just coming out of a migraine so if you haven’t seen me around in a few days, that’s why. Darn sinusitis.

I quit drinking coffee for a while. Figured out that I can have one cup with no ill effect on my tummy, but my problem is stopping at one cup. I enjoy the ritual of the coffee, and also I feel like I owe it to the coffee to drink it. Weird, but that’s how it is. I think a lot of us have that “clean your plate” mentality, which affects all my habits around food. A while ago I said I was going to do better with my food choices, and I have. I’ve only lost about five pounds, but I’m really working on the habit part rather than focusing on losing weight. Things like making sure there are healthy things in the kitchen, not being lazy about cooking, and thinking about portions rather than just shoveling it in till I can’t anymore. Those are the things that will make me a healthy weight and keep me there. I can wait to hit that mark if I know it will last.

What else…

Oh yeah, I finished my book. Sent it to my first reader on Tuesday and had a migraine headache an hour later, whatever that means. Thinking of everything I’ve gone through during the course of this book is a bit overwhelming.

I didn’t have the confidence to write this book when I started. It doesn’t fit into a template, I see now.  I tried to make it fit a template and ended up spinning my wheels for a couple of years. For a long time my forebrain told me it was a mess, even though it made a lot of sense to me, and the characters spoke with their own voices. Only when I threw out the template did it come alive and drive me to the finish.

We’ll see how the public receives it, but whatever happens I’ve written the book I wanted to write, and that’s a pretty damn good feeling. Later in my career, I will say, “That’s when I learned how to be a writer.” Shoot, this whole BVA period has taught me how to live.

I WILL have fun today, darn it.

In a bigger town nearby, there’s this children’s museum. It’s got lots of hands-on exhibits, like a contraption that lets you stand inside a giant soap bubble, an airplane cockpit you can climb up into, sand art, and a little grocery store. Just an expansive indoor playground with the coolest toys imagineable. I get to go there today with my daughter’s kindergarten class. Blah. I’ve been there too many times, but it’ll be fun watching the kids have fun, Maggie Rose and her little friend (a boy with whom she’s “in love”).

Thank goodness the parents aren’t allowed to ride the bus this year. I about died from being in that enclosed space with all those perfumed popinjays. It made the day very difficult, starting off with a pre-migraine and blurry vision. So this time I’m driving myself and I’ll stay as far away as I can manage. I seem to tolerate being in buildings all right now, as long as there’s no air freshener or candles or freshly-cleaned floors. I’m also going to take my nose filters if I can find a clean set. That usually helps.

It’s raining which means we may not get to go on the train. Gosh, I am just full of optimism today, aren’t I? Guess it’s time to adjust my attitude, and that usually starts with a shower.

Be glad when people bug you

I put it off as long as I could, but I had to go to Wal-Mart today. The nearest one is about 20 minutes from my house. Today’s journey home took me 32 minutes. This is a good thing, and I’ll tell you why.

Apparently I missed the memo declaring today Twenty-five Mile Per Hour Day. I think it was also Cut Off Sherri in Traffic Day. So every time one slow ass would turn, I’d speed up to the limit only to have another one pull out in front of me like he was in a big hurry and then go the decreed 25 mph. To illustrate how ridiculous it was: As one car (the final one, but I didn’t know that then) turned out in front of me, I yelled, “If you go 25 miles an hour, I will drive my car up your !@#$% tailpipe!!” (Note the double exclamation points for emphasis.) Unfortunately, he’d indeed received the memo, but my car wouldn’t actually fit in his tailpipe.

Well at that point I just had to laugh. I said out loud to no one in particular, “Oh well. Maybe this is God’s way of keeping me out of a wreck. You never know.” I relaxed and kept on truckin’. Slowly, of course.

So that guy turned soon, and finally I was free to go as freaking fast as I wanted, and what I wanted was only the speed limit. I drove unfettered for a couple of miles, when up ahead I saw flashing lights in front of my grocery store. No lie, there had been what looked like a head-on collision. The wreck was fresh enough that there wasn’t anybody directing traffic yet, but there were several cop cars so it had been at least a few minutes. I estimate ten. About the amount of time the slow asses cost me.

I guess I’ll never know if someone was looking out for me, but just remember when somebody is bugging the shit out of you: Maybe they’re bugging the shit out of you on behalf of your guardian angel.

Characters’ll spake to ya, if ya just be lis’nin

Well, I made a major decision as I wrap up my current book. See, the nature of the world in this book makes it likely that one would meet people from all over the world, and from lots of different eras. My main character is American but of Mexican descent; a supporting character is Spanish of some kind, and another is Scottish; lesser characters are Southern, Persian, British, and others. Not all of them speak English, but most of them do. That means a lot of accents to understand and apply, and besides the accents you have idioms unique to the individual culture. This is tough.

What I did while writing the book was write each character the way he/she sounded in my head, and for most of them this worked well enough to get the accent across. My Scottish guy was the exception.

He never sounded Scottish to me. I really really wanted him to be Scottish. Really really. However, although I’d decided he should be Scottish, I’d done very little research on how to actually make him seem Scottish. I thought I’d be able to layer it in at my leisure. I’m finding it’s not that easy. Also, there’s no real reason to have him be foreign, except that I wanted lots of different places represented.

So now I’m on the verge of completing the book, and changing “your” to “yer” ain’t gonna cut it. And I started asking myself, “If he didn’t sound like a Scot in your head, why did you make him one anyway, you dimwit?” And the answer is, I didn’t. I didn’t make him a Scot. He’s an American who sometimes says “wee lass” and “are ye out of your mind?” See? Now, I could go and make that “are ye out o’ yer maind?” and that would be fairly Scottish. But to go back and spend an extra month to add that accent to an entire character’s worth of dialogue wouldn’t have a good cost/benefit ratio.

So Caellum is now Scottish-American, if there is such a term. He’s still a rakish musician, still mysterious, still over-sexed, but I think he’ll be relieved to stop speaking with an accent. He wasn’t very good at it.