I had a really bad scare with my dog Rosie yesterday. She sometimes has these spells where she suddenly starts shivering and trembling while panting like she's just finished a marathon. She hasn't had that happen in a while but then yesterday she had an incident that was worse than I've ever seen. On top of that, she threw up everything in her stomach, then starting vomiting white foam everywhere. I called our vet and they didn't have any appointments but was told to bring her out and they'd squeeze her in (there's a lovely "work-in" fee now, too).
Because of COVID the lobby of the vet's office is closed so we had to sit outside in the car for an hour before someone could come get her. But fortunately, the vet didn't find anything wrong with her, though he is a bit concerned about the seizures as a whole. He gave her a shot for the upset stomach and some medicine to give her for the next couple of days and she seems fine now. We had to have an "emergency walk" about 4:30 this morning and she and Buster are both completely sacked out on the bed. I really should give her the medicine but if she's feeling bad still she needs to rest.
And Buster ate last night for the first time in at least four days. I didn't take him with us yesterday but the vet did say he was actually more concerned about that than what Rosie was displaying yesterday. He said if he didn't eat by today to call back and bring him in. Fortunately, he gobbled down everything last night. Which is good, because my wallet took a major hit from the visit yesterday. After paying the household and vet bills I'm gonna have a tough time lasting out the month money-wise. Fortunately, the gubbamint gave me bonuses to my SNAP allotments for the last three months so groceries are covered, at least.
Oy, the things we do for love of our pets.
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OH NO!!!!
I'm so sorry to hear that. Pet scares are terrible. I hope she gets lots of needed rest and is ok.
OH NO!!!!
I'm so sorry to hear that. Pet scares are terrible. I hope she gets lots of needed rest and is ok.
She's a bit sluggish today. Usually, when she hears me rattling around in the kitchen she and Buster come in looking for treats. This time she stayed on the couch. I brought her one and accidentally dropped it just out of her reach. Rather than move 4 inches to reach it she just flopped over to where her tongue could barely touch it...lol.
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Monster: Robomonkey. You know whom to blame.
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Monster: Robomonkey. You know whom to blame.
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A game just for Drejk
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Funny story from today: My neighbor's 11-year-old informed her mother, with great seriousness, that after reading my book her three favorite characters are (in order):
1. Katniss Everdeen
2. Hermione Granger
3. Patience Fell (my hero)
I'm calling today an epic win.
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I'm calling today an epic win.
And you should! That's terrific!
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Urban Horrors: Bones In the Lake.
Sort of outgrowth of a dream I had today.
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That's kinda creepy. I dig it.
Without going into a lot of detail and exposition, I find myself in possession of four different clothes dryers and none of them work anymore, which I only discovered when I washed a load of sheets on Friday. Now I have to wash them every day so they don't get mildewy until I can take them to the laundromat. And my car died today.
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I think you somehow pissed off Brigh, or Gond, or whatever the god of technology is in your world.
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I think you somehow pissed off Brigh, or Gond, or whatever the god of technology is in your world.
That would be the Maytag Repairman.
By an odd coincidence, they are all four Maytag dryers...lol
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That's kinda creepy. I dig it.
They dig the lake and behold how did that ended...
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What a tragic, awful loss.
Grant Imahara, of "Mythbusters" and "Star Trek Continues" has died at the age of 49.
If you've never watched Star Trek Continues, it's a fan made web series featuring 11 full length episodes that fill in some of the adventures the original Enterprise crew might have had if the series had lasted longer. It's an astounding tribute and work of love. Grant portrayed Sulu and did an outstanding job. I recommend folks check it out. Grant was terrific.
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That is sad. He was so young.
That is sad. He was so young.
I know. It makes one consider his or her own mortality when this happens.
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Gah. It's so hot here I'm making sweat angels on the sidewalk after I run.
I'm wilting like a Tennessee Williams heroine.
*fans self dramatically*
How's everyone else?
I got to begin digging a huge hole right next to a swimming pool, and then it rained so I got to go home after working 9 hours.
How huge a hole was it?
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Here in central Arkansas, the highs have been in the mid-90s with heat indices of 102 to 108 degrees. The humidity is just awful. I came in from walking Rosie and Buster about 30 minutes ago (about 10:45 pm) and sweat was literally pouring out of my hair.
I grew up on a farm where working in the heat and humidity was just part and parcel with life. If you've never hauled hay, and by that, I mean walking alongside a trailer being pulled by a tractor throwing 50-80 pound bales of hay onto it hour after hour in the hottest parts of summer, let me tell ya, it's hard and exhausting work. Then we had to unload the hay into a hot, stifling barn. I know some of the folks on the boards, like Captain Yesterday, can relate with his outdoor job.
In my teens and early 20s I could do that sort of thing all day with almost no ill effects, and I often did. Summer is now my archenemy and I dread even the short walks I take with the dingoes. I've packed on a lot of weight over the years which just compounds the problem. If my friends and family weren't all here I'd pack up and move somewhere far north of here. Summer, who needs it? Ok, besides farmers and stuff.
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What is this 'summer' you speak of? Are you referring to the three weeks of sunshine we had in June, now nothing but a distant memory?
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When I was growing up, my family had a summer place in the Catskills. Our nearest neighbor was a farmer. Up at dawn every day, worked his butt off. He was incredibly strong. He wasn't very fast though. Understandable; he was in his 80s. One year, because he was helping us put up hay (Dad raised horses) he bought a new tractor and hay mow. My father, who was in his forties, asked him about it:
"William, how much did all this cost you?"
"I dunno Doc, about 50 grand."
"And how long will it last."
"I reckon about 50 year."
"William, I don't think I'm going to be around to need that in fifty years."
"Well, Doc, just 'cause you ain't gonna be around doesn't mean I'm not!"
:-)
Old folks, especially those from the country, are hilarious. My dad was 56 when I was born, so all of my aunts and uncles were heading toward senior citizenship. They were tough as nails, generous to a fault, and often just side-bustingly funny...lol
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Like the time I caught the ferry to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Gimme five bees for a quarter," you'd say. Now where were we... oh yeah. The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...
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*giggle-snort-chortle*
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Still hot out. At least Monkey Santa knows how to beat the heat...
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He's right you know. A bag of frozen peas will one day be found and mounted in a museum alongside a frozen mammoth. Everyone buys them with good intentions. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And frozen peas.
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Frozen peas always make me think of this clip.
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That is so great!
In high school a friend of mine drew a huge globe with arms, legs, and a beard and entitled it "Orson Welles' Baby Picture, Taken By Satellite". I kept that thing for years.
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Fantasy NPC: The Right Honorable Lamarquand Till. A ghost of an infernal barrister.
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I’d hire him.
Fantasy NPC: The Right Honorable Lamarquand Till. A ghost of an infernal barrister.
Are you sure that's not the bag with teeth?
Fantasy NPC: The Right Honorable Lamarquand Till. A ghost of an infernal barrister.Are you sure that's not the bag with teeth?
I think he's more daemon than devil.....
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Hey, the fact that I have seen photo of Gorbacz in drag on Saturday is a complete coincidence!
Also, while he might have some troll in him, he is not a nihilist.
So, kyton, perchance?
occasionally filled with nightmare fuel.
there's even a new slang term for compulsively reading that kind of stuff: "doom-stalking".
that might be my Depression talking.
Probably. I think most of us have had moments (hours, days) recently where we looked at our behavior and went, "I didn't realize I was that depressed, but wow, I'd certainly diagnose depression if a friend was acting that way."
anyone got any tips to reignite creativity in these interesting times?
Personally, I'm falling back on very basic journaling and tracking good ideas that float through my brain. The idea of doing something I would call "creative" with those ideas seems like an impossibly high standard right now.
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Lordy do I have opinions on this particular subject...
Background: For the past six years I've had the incredible good fortune to be able to pursue a creative career. It's been entirely self-driven. No one's asked for my work and, in hundreds of cases, they haven't wanted it when I sent it to them.
It's been isolated, lonely work. I have great friends and a wonderful wife, but no one is there--no one can be there--during the long hours spent writing and submitting and waiting and writing more. Even before the isolation of quarantine, human connection came sparsely. Most people who work with people (as annoying as that can be) don't realize how working entirely by oneself means there can be days or weeks that go by without a conversation.
I've also dealt with depression for two and a half decades. Refractory, occasionally severe mental illness. I'm lucky in that three years ago I found an amazing treatment (ketamine infusions). Nonetheless, depression always remains ready to return. Isolation and a climate of rampant, histrionic negativity are prime feeding grounds for that particular mental bastard.
None of this, mind you, is meant as a complaint. It's just meant to set the background. During the past six years I've written four novels. Published one (the same week they closed down the state where I live, in fact--lean into crisis!)
I've been able to work harder and more consistently on creative endeavors than at any point in my life. And I've done it all without cheerleading, without expectation, with only a handful of bright moments of praise or reward.
How?
Opinions:
1. "It's got to mean something to you." This particular phrase comes from my friend JoJo Polk, a former pro football player, current gym owner, and one of the best, hardest working all around people I've ever met.
Whatever the work is, if it doesn't mean something to you at some level, it won't be worth climbing that g%&&+!n hill every morning. And that meaning isn't a feeling--it's not a nice warm glow when you sit down to do the thing. It's a commitment. It's something to remind yourself of, when you don't feel like doing the thing. It means something. To you.
Which is what matters most.
2. Action begets feeling. I have another friend who was marveling at how prolific I am. He said "Where do you find the inspiration to write so much?" I replied: "F*!@ inspiration. If I only did what I felt inspired to do, I'd probably eat cheetos, drink beer, and play Skyrim 20 hours a day."
And the thing is--I probably would. But what I've found is, on the days when I don't feel like it, on the days when I sit down and think "Meh, I don't wanna" if I tell that feeling "Shut up and sit down" and just WORK, I wind up with my daily word count and, usually, by the end I want to be writing.
Doing the creative thing when I don't want to makes me want to do the creative thing. Eventually.
3. I can't tell you which parts were a brutal grind and which parts danced off my fingers and onto the page.
Reading back through The Chaos Court, I know that there were parts of that novel where I was gritting my teeth and powering through every damn word. I also know there were parts where I got up with an idea and sat down and it all just flowed perfectly and felt fantastic.
But I can't tell the difference once I'm done. I really can't.
So what that says to me is that, at least with regards to creativity, how I feel about it before/during doesn't really matter much to the outcome. Sure, it's unpleasant to have to grind and flail and stall and start again. But it doesn't change the outcome. So I might as well just do the work.
4. Try something different--but still create.
Two years ago, I had a very bad month. The details don't matter. Sad stuff happened. Sad enough that my usual mode of working wasn't going to work. I was a blank wreck.
So instead, I said: "Ok, for the next month I'm just going to try a different way of working. I'm going to create 50 one-line pitches for novels. Not write them, not work on them, not outline. Just every day come up with one or two well-made sentences about stories I might someday write."
Sentence 12 hooked me. Before I knew it, I was thinking about that character and his woes. I still completed the month, but by the end, I knew I'd found a new novel.
Also, I paint. Which is totally different but still creative. So even on a day when I don't make much forward progress on a novel, I might sketch or paint in the evening. Even though I'm not very good at it, it's still a physical product I can look at and say, "Yeah. I didn't waste today."
5. Remember, creating is good for you. And you deserve to do things that are good for you.
6. The world will still be there if you turn its volume down for a while. Sometimes (often), I need to tune things out. Social media in particular--one of the challenges of having published a book is that I felt like I should get back on social media to plug it.
Ye gods.
Not a healthy (or helpful) environment.
So I mute everybody and move on. They'll be fine. They don't need me to watch them.
It's almost heresy to say, but unless the news is something I can/will do something about, it doesn't help me to know it. And I have limited minutes left on this earth, so the fact that someone on TV is pissed off about something and wants even one of those minutes is not useful.
"I get the news I need from the weather report," as Paul Simon said.
7. Find as many different positive, encouraging voices as you can. This particular compilation helps me from time to time. Also this one.
8. You may be one of those people for whom accountability is key. Early on, I asked a friend if I could send him what I was working on one chapter at a time, and tell me if he'd read it. Just that. "Yep. Read it." Before I'd built the habit and discipline, that little extra nudge of accountability helped a ton.
Now most people I know are NOT helpful for this, and I don't recommend asking unless you're sure the person will go along. It can be soul-sucking to send someone something I'm still working on and get silence for months or forever. Or worse, if they try to be "helpfully critical." When I'm working on the first draft of something, critical feedback is like telling an embryo they lack upper body strength. True, but not helpful.
9. I've never once said "I really regret having discipline today."
10. Find a creative task out of your comfort zone. (If you're one of those wizards who has an entire dang ZONE of comfort. Me, I do not. I mean, a whole ZONE?! OF COMFORT?! Wizards...)
E.g., if you're struggling with coming up with a dungeon, instead commit to writing a sonnet a day for a week. Strictly. By the rules.
In my experience, by the time I finish something like that, it's a blessed relief to go back to the main thing. My brain is all like "Oh thank the gods! He's not going to force us to write another g!++$@n sonnet! Let's build that dungeon." (Or whatever)
11. Revising old work can be a good way to get momentum. When I do major revisions, I print out the old draft. Then, with that next to my keyboard, I retype it--making the changes (major and minor) as I go. This has two benefits. One, even if I don't change anything in a particular section (a rarity), there is still the physical feeling of progress. Two, it engages my brain in a different way than attacking an empty space and trying to fill it.
12. Progress is key. I find it helpful to print out the day's work at the end of every day. For me, purely digital work has much less meaning. I can write hundreds of pages, but if I don't SEE them and FEEL them, they might as well be one page.
13. Set a goal. A modest goal. When I started, it was 500 words a day. It still is. Sometimes I get more than that. Sometimes (ugh) less. But that's the goal. And when I hit that, boom! I feel pretty good about it. Even if I woke up thinking I wanted to spend the day swaddled in the covers and hiding from the world.
14. You can do it. No one else can do the things you are about to do, in the place where you are, with the tools you have.
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Now on to doing the work.
Thank you for reminding me that cooking is a creative outlet. I tend to forget that the fun I have cooking is "real" creativity at work.
And, if it will help, you can post your daily goal/success rate here. every day, and we'll go, "Yo, Mark!" on the days you don't so you know we care. (Pretty minimal expression of caring there, but what can I say. Someone with more cheer-leading potential will have to step up)
As we've talked about in the past, you know depression takes a huge toll on my life and my creativity. I've had some really rough spots in the last couple of months, but for the time being, I'm doing ok. I wish I had something to offer that would bolster a better headspace for you. With me, it's medication and a support group of friends who have been absolute superheroes that keeps me from sinking to the bottom and staying.
As far as isolation goes, it hasn't been a problem personally. I DO miss my game night gatherings, but my son, who's lived with me the last two years, has moved out into his own place again, and my depression is actually better. I love my son fiercely, but I have always, always been a crabby recluse. My dad, who had 14 siblings, could never wrap his head around why I vastly preferred being alone in my room with books and music rather than sitting in the living room with the family. He truly loved being around a lot of people. In fact, it was his idea to have a weekend-long gathering for me and my friends each spring of the last three years of high school for me. Those made him really happy, just hearing 20-25 kids laughing and carrying on.
As far as creativity goes, I'm a dying husk. I've been the primary, even sole GM for so many years I have nothing left in me. The quarantine should have been a highly productive time for world-building or adventure writing, but some days I just don't even think of the game anymore. NO one else will run a game so that I can be a player, and PbP and remote gaming just isn't something I'm good at. I've tried both and it doesn't "feel" right. We've had one game since quarantine began, back in May. We used Google Meet since no one in my group wanted to learn how to use Roll20 or any other such platform. It's really not a big problem, we have always trusted each other's dice rolls and have always used theater of the mind instead of maps and miniatures. But we had some tech issues which hampered ease of play, although turning on automatic captioning was frankly, side-splitting. We were gasping for air at some of the things it put on the screen.
Anyway, I posted about a get together this weekend. A former player (he had to drop out of our games because of his job) has been supplying me with really great ideas, and I hope to run one of them this weekend. I WANT to do it in person but COVID is still on the rise here in Arkansas thanks to an incompetent, kowtowing GOP governor, so it will likely be via Google Meet again. Which keeps one player from joining in, because he can't bring himself to play that way (he told me why. I don't blame him). So I'm going to send out an email to the group today about the venue change.
I'm sorry I don't have anything substantive to offer as a means to help. It's hard to do it, but just hold out hope that this madness will eventually subside.
I guess it would feel weird to post for ego boost purposes.
I do like the idea though that The Quibbler mentions above: until I've solidly started taking account for my own daily progress, get a person to respond bluntly with "read it" for stuff I do each week. Like, no critiques but also no cheerleading, just a flat acknowledgement by another human that what I produced does in fact exist.
Oh, no. Not at all for ego boost.
For example, you publicly set a goal of 500 words a day.
Once every 24 hours you post 250/500 or 1083/500. Nothing more.
If you go 24 hours without posting, anyone in this thread gets to say, "Yo, Mark?"
It's simply public accountability. Sometimes that's all it takes "OMG I've got to post or else someone's going to say "Yo, Mark!". You can even post 2/500. No one will say anything as long as you post 2/500.
Kinda like the Seinfeld technique: the goal is to keep the streak going, not to wow everyone with your prose.
But if that doesn't feel right for you, then think up something else that gets you going. Like finding someone to send those words to who will simply acknowledged that they were read.
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Also Cal, I hope your game goes well and that your pup is doing better!
Thanks! Rosie is back to her normal, annoying self. I wouldn't have her any other way...LOL
"Renewing your vehicle tags online is easy".
INCORRECT. I just tried. It took four tries to find my vehicle and then I get a message telling me I owe property taxes and to call the Assessor's office. I do that. The voice mail tells me to go to a website THAT NO LONGER EXISTS. I call back and after screaming at the information tree of people to talk to I finally reach a living human being.
So this living human being acts as though my inquiring about any property taxes I might owe is tantamount to a trek to Mount Doom with Hobbits just to throw in a ring that could have been done by Gandalf and the giant eagles in the first place. But I digress.
She tells me, after she literally sighs and mutters to herself while looking up the information, that the records show that, in her words, "I'm clear to get my new tags". I thank her, and she says, "Yeah", then hangs up. I go back to the online method once more, and it does not work. So I then called the Revenue Office and the woman actually says, "Woopsie. I guess there's a mistake in the system" and that I need to go there to do it.
The whole reason the "online convenience" exists is so that people DON'T have to do that. The last three days have not been exactly mentally stabilizing enough for me and I can't get a rein on my emotions. I'm sitting here shaking I'm so livid about the whole thing. That doesn't seem reasonable, but that's how I'm wired now thanks to my psychiatric issues. So for at least the next hour, maybe two, I'm going to take a Xanax then sit here and listen to my "anger management" music.
Mr. Lawless, take it from the top, please.