Decisions, Decisions...

To everyone who sent me words of encouragement and virtual hugs during my recent slump, I have two words for you: THANK YOU. I mean it. Muah! It was just what I needed. I'm doing much better this week, and it's a good thing too, because I can't afford to crash and burn right now. I have entirely too much to do.

Here's the deal: I live in Florida, where, in case you've been living under a rock, the housing and job markets have been utterly demolished. To make matters worse, the cost of living here is obscenely high, particularly in our neck of the woods. Don't get me wrong: I love Florida. Warm weather all year round, plentiful sandy beaches and easy access to Disney World--what's not to like? Before the country fell into a financial abyss of awfulness, it was a great place to live. Of course, now...well, now it's not so hot (pardon the pun).

So, it looks like my hubby and I have some decisions to make. We're quite blessed in the sense that we're not tied to a home right now, so we can feasibly move as early as this summer. Texas is the most obvious choice, since it's where most of our family is and it's one of the few states that has managed to thrive in this recession. Another major plus? Our son is young enough to make a seamless transition. The question is, should we make that step? Can we afford it? Will we be able to find jobs, a new place to live and get everything packed in time? These are the questions that have been spinning through my head for the last few weeks.



The issue is coming to a head for us now because we're rapidly reaching a point of no return. We have a very small window of time to make this move happen, otherwise we'll be stuck where we are for at least another year. I guess that's my problem. It seems like everything would have to happen so fast. I don't do fast changes well, at least not like this. I was raised by two meticulous planners, folks who needed a week's notice whenever I wanted to have a play date in elementary school. Like them, I like months and months to get my ducks in a row before a decision like this, but it looks more like I've got weeks. It feels like days. And that freaks me out.

My husband will be meeting with his boss on Monday to request that he be transferred to Texas, if that's what we decide to do. We've given ourselves the weekend to commit one way or the other. And what a long, prayer-filled weekend it will be--even more than usual for Easter.

Everything in my gut is pointing me toward this move. I really don't think we can afford to live here another year. But still. Change is hard, especially when it flies in your face like a spaceship jumping to warp speed (did I mention my parents were also Trekkies?). I suppose that's what separates the kiddos from the adults in society. Grownups make the hard choices so the munchkins don't have to, and apparently I'm a grownup--or so says my driver's license. But I must confess I don't feel too grownupish today.

What do you think? Am I overanalyzing everything? What would you do, given what you know about my situation? How do you go about making major, life-altering decisions in your family?

Follow The Leader

Several of my favorite bloggers have mentioned that they've lost a lot of followers lately, and most of them seemed to take it rather personally. I can understand why. After all, people follow your blog because for one reason or another, they're interested in what you have to say. So, logic dictates that if someone stops following you, it's because they've lost interest in what you have to say. Whether it's your words, your personality, the design of your background, whatever--you just don't do it for them anymore. And that stings. It's like that guy or girl back in high school who went out with you a few times and never called again.

Fortunately, Blogger.com cleared up the confusion with this explanation earlier this week. There, you see, it's not your breath, after all! Yay! (Seriously though, I lost a follower this week myself, and I thought something was wrong with me, too.)

Anyway, that little wrinkle in the blogosphere got me thinking. Out of all the potential millions--maybe billions by now, who knows?--of blogs out there, how do you decide which ones are worthy of your time? What makes the difference between you subscribing to a blog's feed and you passing on it completely? How do you choose your favorites? Any thoughts?

P.S. Speaking of blog mishaps, a few of you emailed me this week to mention you were having trouble commenting on my page. After checking into it, I've fixed the problem. It seems I changed the comment option by mistake. Silly me! *head desk* Anyway, it should be fine now. Feel free to email me again if it's not.

When The Unexpected Happens

Whew! What a week. I'm still a bit disoriented, so if this post seems to ramble a bit more than my usual ones, bear with me. My head isn't quite screwed on right just yet.

On Tuesday, my mother called to say that one of my uncles had passed away from brain cancer. Haven't yet figured out how to feel about it. I didn't see him very often, but he was more or less a constant fixture in my extended family life. He came from Arkansas to Texas for my high school graduation. He played with my son the last time our family got together for Thanksgiving, and we saw him again last summer at the family reunion. He wasn't a talkative man, but nevertheless, he was there... And now he isn't.

Mainly, I'm shocked at how quickly it all happened. He was just diagnosed in November, and now he's gone. Bam. Just like that. How very fragile and short this life of ours is.

These are the moments when I'm most grateful for my faith. I'm not ashamed to call myself a Christian, but I don't shout it from the rooftops, either. I also don't knock anyone else for believing differently from me. But I'll tell you one thing: I don't think I could function in times like this if I didn't believe people have a place to go when they die. This life is far too brief; it can't be all there is. That's my thinking anyway.

What frustrated me most this week was the fact that I couldn't seem to write anything. Not. One. Word. I, a writer, one who plays with words for a living, could not pour out the words to say what I feel. I didn't want to grieve; I wanted to write, and I couldn't. Even writing this post is hard. My mind feels tired.

I know what you want to say. You have to grieve. Grieving is healthy. It will help you move on. It will help you cope with what's happened.

Um, 'fraid not. Writing helps me cope. It is how I move on. It's what keeps me sane. Writing and faith. I have the faith part down, but the writing is slow in coming. So I'm waiting for it to come back. Just waiting.

Everyone faces the unexpected, both good and bad. It's part of life. The question is, how do you take your personal tragedies and transfer them into your writing life? How do you turn life's lemons into writing lemonade? I'm still working on that. I'll let you know how it goes.

What about you all? How do you write when life deals you a crappy hand? How do you write through illness? Financial disaster? The loss of a loved one? What keeps you coming back to telling stories?

P.S. Sorry for the depressing post today, folks. I like to uplift people, not bring them down, so hopefully this stuff will be few and far between for me.

Back From Neverwhere (What A Great Trip!)

A funny thing happened to me this week. I picked up an ordinary-looking book and took a peek inside, thinking that I would have no trouble setting it aside to go work on other things if I needed to. And in the beginning, I did just that. I read for an hour, maybe two, and went to cook dinner.

The next day, I came back and read a little more. I could feel the book calling me, like an itch I couldn't quite reach, but it wasn't impossible to resist. I could still stop whenever I wanted. Or so I thought.

On the third day, something mysterious and wonderful happened. I read for a couple of hours before coming to the startling realization that I couldn't stop reading. The plot had gripped me, the setting mesmerized me, and more than anything, I was irrevocably in love with the characters. Even the slimy, detestable ones. Those were my favorites.

I read until I was forced to stop, until something urgent like the sound of my son crying or the smell of burnt chili demanded it. But even then, I was reluctant to put the book down, and I found myself searching for every available opportunity to pick it up again. I read into the wee hours of the morning every night this week until I finished it yesterday evening. By then, the characters felt very much like living, breathing people, people who had come into my living room and told me their adventures over a cup of chai tea. They left when I closed the book, but their presence lingered, haunting me. They haunt me still.

The book was Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. If you haven't read it, the only way I can think to describe it is to call it a grown-up version of Alice in Wonderland, part mystery, part fantasy and part suspense. For me, what made it so delightful was Gaiman's ability to partner darkness with whimsy and the logical with the bizarre. Croup and Vandemar are some of the most engaging villains I've seen in a long time, while Door and Hunter made some pretty exceptional heroines. Finishing the last page was bittersweet; a fitting end to the story, yet part of me also wanted to have more adventures in London Below. After reading Neverwhere, I doubt I will ever look at a doorway the same way again.

Every reader has their Neverwhere, a tale that absorbed you into it and surprised the stuffing out of you in the process. And we writers should want to create a Neverwhere, to make our readers feel that same sense of bittersweet satisfaction I felt when I put that book down for the last time. What is your Neverwhere? Which author brought his or her characters into your living room, and how do you plan to do the same thing for someone else?

5 Things To Do When The Magic's Gone

I'm not sure if it's the miserable weather, the sluggish economy, random, widespread peevishness or all of the above, but lately I've been seeing a lot of posts from writers who have the blues. And in most cases, it's on both a personal and a professional level. If you're not going through it now, chances are you've experienced it at some point in your writing career. You know the feeling; you can't really put your finger on it, but you just have a general "meh" attitude about everything. Like Grumpy Bear from the Care Bears with the raincloud picture on his chest. Not a happy camper.

Well, you can add my name to the list. I've been in that boat all year, and I'm just as clueless about my "meh"-ness as you are. It's as if the power has short-circuited in the creative part of my brain, and since I don't know which fuse has blown out, I can't fix it. Know what I mean? I just keep thinking, What gives, man?! I'm a writer. Words are supposed to just--ya know, appear--in my head, right? Right?

So. What to do? I've been thinking about it all week, and recently I came to an interesting conclusion. In my humble opinion, the act of writing is similar in many ways to a long-term relationship. The longer you do it, the easier it is to get into a routine, and although it's good to have some structure, too much can kill your Muse the same way it can kill a marriage. When that happens, some of the same suggestions relationship experts give to couples can help you regain your passion for writing. Bear with me; this analogy is a good one.

1. Remember why you fell in love (with writing) in the first place. I'm reminded of the movie Brown Sugar, a romantic comedy starring Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan. The two of them play best friends who realize they're also soulmates, mainly due to their mutual love of Hip-hop music. Music plays an integral role during the ups and downs of their relationship, and in the end, it is what brings them back together after a falling-out. It should be that way for writers as well. Remember what it was like to fall in love with words--the power of that moment--and write about that feeling.
   
2. Listen (to your inner writing voice). This idea applies primarily to your characters. You know that moment in the writing process when your characters seem to jump off the page? That's not you going crazy--it's the magic coming out. Listen to it, even when it doesn't make sense. More importantly, learn what your unique writing voice sounds like. We each have one, and even if it tells you to write something silly or impractical, do it anyway. Drowning it out with logic it is the first step toward permanent writer's block, and besides, you never know where that weird little voice might lead you.
   
3. Try something new. Are you a stickler for composing at the computer? Try writing longhand for a few weeks. Work exclusively in your home office? Take a field trip to your nearest library or park. Sometimes a simple change of scenery or writing medium is all it takes to get the creative juices flowing again.
   
4. Enjoy the little things. Like most careers, writing is a job that emphasizes the big accomplishments--publication, bestseller status, a three-book deal with a six-figure advance. We all want those things, but let's not forget about all of the wonderful little milestones we encounter along the way. Finishing a novel, for instance, is a remarkable achievement, and it's something millions of people will never do. Celebrating the little victories will keep you energized on your way to the big ones.
   
5. It's about the journey, not the destination. It's easy for us writers to get so caught up in the goal of publication that we forget to enjoy the process of writing itself. We rush through everything, cranking out stories the way Kraft cranks out mediocre slices of cheese. Then, we wake up one day and find we've lost touch with our characters, themes and the voice that brings our stories to life. We may want to publish our work, but first and foremost, we are storytellers. As long as we remember that, our Muse--whatever form it takes--will never be far away.
   

Writing in the Rain

My 18-month-old is sound asleep, and it's raining outside. I love when it rains. I live in Florida, and even though they call it the Sunshine State (and with good reason), we get our fair share of rain here (not counting hurricane season, of course!). But it's been a while, and I've missed it. It always puts me in the mood to write.

By rain, I mean real rain, by the way, not a weak little drizzle or the kind you listen to on one of those relaxation CDs. Nope, I like to hear the strong pitter-patter of water droplets on rooftops, the splash of cars rushing through puddles on the road, a steady, rhythmic sound that can put even the most fussy baby to sleep. It's the kind of thing that makes me feel as if all is right with the world.

Everyone has their ideal writing environment, complete with its own unique little rituals and idiosyncracies. Some people insist on having absolute silence, while others want their favorite rock music blaring at the highest possible decibel. Some must have a cup of black coffee to get their Muse going, while others crave a bar (or two, or ten) of chocolate. And some change their routine like the rest of us change our socks.

The mind is a mysterious and wonderful thing, and I'm rather intrigued by the various ways that all artists, particularly writers, find to access its treasures.

For me, this is as close to ideal as I can get: sitting in bed with my laptop, listening to the rain and sipping on a cup of chai tea (with honey and a splash of milk, if you please). I could write all day like this. And maybe I will.

What about you? What's your ideal writing environment? What rituals, if any, do you perform to get you "in the mood"?