Gratitude

Indulge me, friends, if you please.

Today, I'm sitting on my bed in yoga pants (which I totally bought for sitting around the house instead of doing yoga) and binging on Firefly on Netflix while drinking dark roast coffee with sugar-free Smores syrup. Now tell me that's not the lap of luxury!

It's an afternoon in stark contrast to Saturday when I watched lights flicker on and off as rain and wind from Hurricane Matthew battered the state where I live (South Carolina). My area was very fortunate. Downed trees and some minor flooding - not like last year's 1000-year-flood. By the way, I get that people call it that because it was the worst flooding South Carolina has seen in a thousand years, but every time I hear the term, I think they mean it's been flooding for a thousand years.

Anyway... The point I'm working up to is how grateful and blessed I feel today. And to say how broken my heart is for areas not so lucky. It's on us now to find ways to help. I can't get on a plane and fly to Haiti and help rebuild homes, but I can support organizations that do. That's what I'm doing. Sometimes I can volunteer. Sometimes I can't. But I can almost always support aid in one way or another.

What can you do?

What's Happening With That Bethanie Chick?

Some updates:

The Seodrassian Chronicles - I have not abandoned them. I got Book Two back from beta readers with some great feedback. Back into edits, she goes! I want each book in this series to be the absolute best I can make it for my readers, so please bear with me.

Sweet Romances - Yes. I write sweet romances as well. I'm working on a series of related, yet standalone sweet contemporary romance novels, but those will be published under a different pen name. Why? It's not a secret, but I don't want fans of The Seodrassian Chronicles to buy a sweet romance expecting a fantasy and be upset when they realize the difference. Or vice versa. Book One of that series is about ready to go to the editor this week.

Private life - That's private. Mind your own business. Kidding. There are some things I can share. I'm having wrist surgery later this month so that will hamper my writing plans. I normally participate in National Novel Writing Month, but won't be able to this year because of the recovery. Bummer. I am still, however, going to be participating in my 24-hour charity gaming marathon through Extra Life for Children's Miracle Network Hospitals. The official date was supposed to be 11/5, but with my surgery, I've decided to do it early. I'll post details as they come.

Also... Evidently, people love these things called podcasts. That being said, I might have joined a podcast group. Want to hear the crazy writer chick talk? Follow us! I've included the link to the first podcast I participated in, but I'll be joining others. There's another from this awesome group about Pokeman Go. Fun stuff!

http://thedragonrocketship.libsyn.com/suicide-squad-deadpool-marvel-vs-dc-movies 

So as you can see, I got a lot of irons in the fire. Hang on to your butts.

Tales from the Bathroom (yes, you read that right)

Bear with me. Trying to be super-duper, fancy-dancy by writing on an app instead of my laptop like a hipster. I wanna be cool like everyone I see at Starbucks. Anyway...

Recently, I had the great privilege of participating in a podcast. While talking to this fun group of geeks, I told a bathroom story (bonus content for the tenacious listener, by the way). As I used the bathroom at the drug store, I realized I had posted about an encounter in a bathroom in an earlier blog post. Then I thought of the amount of times I post rants about public bathrooms to one of my private Facebook groups. This made me pause. Why am I so fascinated with public bathrooms? Should I seek professional help? Maybe. But c'mon, public bathrooms are weird.

Why does one decide to carry on a super personal phone call while sitting on a toilet in a public restroom? You can't control other people's flushes or, God forbid, bodily function sounds. I could write a whole blog post about that alone (I heard someone yell, "Dear Lord!" in the bathroom stall next to me, and it took me three minutes to realize she was on the phone and not just exclaiming about her business).

And I witness some very personal conversations in there. I think this happens more in women's bathrooms than men's, but I can't swear to that since I don't spend much time in men's bathrooms. Lots of gossip in women's bathrooms. Enough so that my office building posted a no loitering sign in the downstairs bathroom. I promise I'm not making this up.

But what fascinates me is when business goes down in there.

"Wow! What a great work-related idea you've had! Why don't you give me your business card? Um... AFTER you've washed your nasty, peebody hands."

I've gleaned valuable life lessons from the bathroom. The most important is this: Poop is the other great equalizer on life. Everyone has to poop, and no looks hoity-toity sitting on the toilet. We're all the same. There's death and poop.

Guess it only makes sense I'd be preoccupied with bathrooms.

Wisdom through Age or Sheer Crankiness?

I was washing my hands in the bathroom when a twenty-something I know came in and brushed her teeth, apologizing for reasons I don't understand. The conversation went something like this:

Twenty-something: Sorry! I just hate feeling like when I talk to people they can smell my coffee breath.

Me: That's adorable. I'm like, 'If you can smell my breath, you're too close.'"

Twenty-something:.....

Me: What?

Twenty-something:.....

Me: (after washing my hands) Laterz.

The exchange prompted me to imagine my twenty-something self, and I realized, apart from the very hygienic teeth-brushing, I was like her to some extent. I was careful not to ruffle feathers or step on toes. Now people I know are laughing at this saying, "Yeah, right." And it was true, get me talking about a social injustice or a political belief, and all bets were off. With other aspects of my life, though, I could be very timid. Like most, I wanted people to like me, and I was self-conscious about some aspects of my looks and demeanor.

With age does truly come some wisdom. And with wisdom, comes some confidence. Do I have moments of insecurity now that I hit 40? Of course, I do, but I won't apologize for having an opinion or a voice.

I was one of those women who would go into a business meeting and apologize for any suggestion or comment. Every sentence started with, "I'm sorry, but..." Now, I use tact, but I don't apologize unless I've made a mistake or truly feel regret. I share my opinion, and if it doesn't work to solve a problem, no big deal. I do my best not to take it personally.

I regress occasionally (like with my subsidiary company's president when he looks perplexed at something I said), but I do a lot better. Most of that, I attribute to the life experience that comes with my age. With the filter of life experience, I recently read an article about how women tend to apologize for everything, including their own ideas. Not me. Not anymore.

That means, though, that I have to be prepared for the consequences when I'm wrong. Now that I know I won't curl up and die when things go south, I'm more willing to take calculated risks.

 I'm not old, but I'm older. I don't want to be a twenty-something again. I like who I am now. I've been through tough times and learned from them. I'm blessed with knowing who has my back and who doesn't. Even better, I'm in a position in life to support others.

With that in mind, I hope Twenty-something learns to stop apologizing soon. That young woman in the bathroom is brilliant and sweet and sure to have a bright future. I'll be keeping an expectant eye on her for big things. And I hope to be someone she can say helped her learn to stop apologizing for existing.

Is Two Years Between Posts Too Long?

Recently, I had the pleasure of attending a writing conference. By pleasure, I mean there was crying and teeth-gnashing and last minute doubts, even as I sat in the car in the parking lot deciding whether or not to go in the building. In the end, I went in, late, of course. The first panel already underway (the early bird panel I SIGNED UP FOR), I checked in and received my name tag and materials for other sessions. I vomited apologies on the woman checking me in. She smiled and reassured me, the smile genuine. Eventually I blurted, "Today's two years since my mom died."

The genuine smile morphed into genuine sympathy. She stepped out from behind the table and hugged me. My throat clogged, and my vision blurred, but I accepted the hug with mumbled thanks before darting into the first session.

I spent the day talking to like-minded writers, listening to fantastic panelists, and learning more about social media. Evidently, two years between blog posts is too long. My only real defense is that every time I opened my blog, I saw my last post which was written about sitting in the hospital with my mom before she died.

But it's been two years now, and my mom always supported my writing. She'd be excited to know I have one published novel, two in edits, and four more first-draft manuscripts completed.

So I'm forging ahead with my blog. I won't say I'm picking up where I left off. I won't subject anyone to two years' worth of my rambling thoughts all at once. I'm starting here and moving forward. Sometimes, I think the best we can do is stop trying to make up for lost time, and learn from it, instead.

Capture today.

The Art of Hospital-Sitting - Tips for Survival

Growing up in my family meant spending a lot of time in hospitals. See, my grandmother had twelve children, nine of which lived past the age of eighteen and went on to have their own children. And for a large family, we were and are surprisingly close. I grew up playing with cousins and second cousins. For a long time, I didn't realize people had friends that weren't related to them. Having such a large, close family is a huge blessing I wouldn't trade for anything.

But there's a downside as well. Unfortunately, with a large family, someone is almost always sick. I remember staying with aunts, uncles, and my grandmother from a young age. And there's an art to it. Here are things I've learned:

• Wear comfy clothes - comfy shoes, soft t-shirts, the fat jeans you hate to admit you have, and/or sweats. And always bring a jacket. It will get cold.
• Bring entertainment. This seems obvious, but I've seen people ready to tear their hair out with boredom as their loved one sleeps in blissfully medicated sleep. When I was younger, I chose a book or two (usually series romance novels) depending on how long I would be there. I also took a notebook for writing. Sometimes I had a pile of magazines (I loved magazines, particularly the ones that now have wrappers to hide suggestive headlines).
• Prepare yourself for some abuse. Younger family members were always the sick person's legs and the pack mule for the older visitors. "Would you go to the vending machines and get me a pop?" "Run to the icemaker, and fill my cup." At times, family members might make crazy requests, but it's part of the hospital-sitting job. In fairness, the adults always made sure to feed the kids ("Here's some extra money for you to get something for yourself.") and praise us ("You're a good kid, I guess."). Honesty is the best policy. And the honest truth is that I was a lazy kid.  I needed the reinforcement. 
• Treat yourself occasionally but in moderation. I like carbs. I don't recommend that. I would never advocate bad dietary habits (ahem). I'm just saying that I have been known to go home and make a big pot of pasta or have a helping coconut milk ice cream (don't ask). Or both.
• When you're not hospital-sitting, spend time with the people you love. There's no way to completely eliminate guilt over lost time, but it's possible to minimize it.
• Let yourself cry when you get out of the building. Our big family has always taken turns staying with our sick relatives. And I took my turns. Most of the time when I took my turn with my grandmother, we always thought it would be the last time she'd be in the hospital. She had medical problems from the time my mom and her siblings were young so every hospital stay felt dire and scary. She was in her seventies when she did pass away. She died a week after my aunt who died from kidney cancer. I was sixteen. After that, my stepdad had a stroke. He was in the hospital for a week before he had another massive stroke that took his life. A few years later, I took a couple of turns with another aunt. Also cancer. It was brutal on the family, but each illness was brutal on the family. Each crisis taught me, you have to cry, or you'll go crazy. Do it. Find a private place and a quiet moment. Turn on sad music if you have to. Watch a animal shelter commercial with the sad, orphaned puppies and kittens. Whatever it takes, get it out. I'm writing this as I sit in a hospital recliner (wearing a jacket and comfy Converse sneakers) with my mother. Stage four lung cancer, pneumonia, UTI, broken hip, and hallucinations. At the hospital with her, I'm stern - refusing to let her pull out her catheter, talking her out of getting dressed to leave, and making her take her medicine. When I get home, I cry. I cannot stress the importance of this tip. Seriously.
• Forgive yourself. Forgive others. And try not to hold a grudge. After taking her anti-nausea medicine, my mom accused me of trying to kill her and refused to take her medicine. Once the medicine receded, she looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry I thought you were trying to poison me. I know better." It'll happen again, but she won't meant it then either. Besides, she's mom. She's certainly forgiven my stupidity more times than I can count. And I can't blame anti-nausea medicine.

I hope these tips are helpful. If you have any other helpful tips, feel free to leave a comment.

Revisions Resume (like that catchy title?)

Warning: My blog posts tend to be informal and not always very scholarly. Here, I write the way I speak. Brace yourselves. Weirdness is coming.

I read recently that being a writer is like having homework for the rest of your life. Sometimes revisions feel like homework. But after a hiatus from revising the first book of the Seodrass Chronicles, I'm back to All From Dreams with renewed fervor.

During this break, I fleshed out some new ideas for projects very different from The Seodrass Chronicles: time traveling Scottish Highlanders, a contemporary romance involving a familial surprise, and blog post ideas. I didn't completely abandon Seodrass, choosing to tweak some ideas in the second and third books as well as writing a short story based on Seodrassian characters (which may or may not end up here at some point - an internal debate rages within).

I also used this time to do things that make writers better (and non-writers happier). I read like I had lost my mind (until 2 am with one book - in my defense, it was AWESOME). I also watched some movies and caught up on a little bit of television (Benedict Cumberbatch is an incredible Sherlock Holmes). And I got outside of my house, spending time with family and dragging myself out of town. A group of friends and I hauled ourselves to the Gallabrae Highland Games in Greenville, South Carolina (because research - I swear!).

All in all, stepping away from my manuscript allowed me to return with new perspective. And when I returned, I was reminded how much I love these characters and this story. I hope you will too!