Dear Roger: A Cure For Insomnia?

For the first time in months, I slept good last night. I really shouldn't have, I have about a million things to worry about, including covering all the bills at the first of the month, the ex not helping out and hinting that he might be heading this direction, my 3rd novel is getting bunged up in its opening week out because the e-version's page is not totally ready so no one can preview it and that is a huge pain in the ass, and well, I have had chest pains off and on over the past couple of weeks again, but after a busy as hell day of building my authors page on Amazon and getting things set up for all the international markets and doing all kinds of other work related stuff I needed to do, I took some time and I wrote  a letter to someone very important to me and I put to rest some business that I needed to put to rest, and I think that is why I slept better.
I tend to not be a good follower or joiner of anything. I have always been an outlier and skeptical of the whole herd mentality that many seem content to fall into when it comes to things. I have tried over the years to be a part of things, and I have failed miserably when my need to ask,"Why?" or "Says who?"  comes into play as well as my gut instinct.
When I started off in the military, that was a huge problem and if I hadn't destroyed my knee at Ft. Sill, I probably would have ended up in the stockade for insubordination more than I would have actually served because keeping my opinion to myself has never been my strong point when I have encountered injustice.
As a cop, it caused me problems as well because I have to respect the people giving me commands, and when the person who is supposedly commanding me, makes fun of me for using,"Big words" or "Talking like a lawyer", well then I'm afraid the contempt is going to show in my expression pretty damn fast.
As I have gotten older and the years have taken a toll on me, I've gone less from worrying about belonging to anything to more about protecting those I care about or who need it, and my kids are my primary focus and then there are a few who figure in pretty close right there after my kids. I am pretty diligent about watching out for them and I don't have an agenda and I don't want or expect anything other than people to be safe and happy, because like I have said in the past, time is short and I often feel like a clock that is winding down. When you are in that situation, things have no meaning to you, but making sure you are right with the people you care about and Karma, has a whole lot of meaning.
I am working hard to make sure my kids know about doing the right things and about being skeptical of people with a bill of goods to sell. I used to take most people at face value and give them a chance to lie to me, but now I am more likely to go in expecting to be lied to and hope that the person will prove themselves to be genuine and honest with the same kinds of values that I have and that I have tried to work hard to instill in my children. Dont know if its just a Southern thing, a cop thing, or what it is, but I have gone back to going with my own gut instinct on things and when I do get backed on my feelings by someone I hold in regard, its good to know there are other people out there who have a lick of sense and a moral code similar to mine because it gives me hope that maybe my kids will have friends when they grow up and venture out and they wont be held to be such weirdos.
All I know is I slept a lot better last night and a load is off my mind.

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love: Today was an amazing day. My teenage son spent most of his day helping me put together the book trailer for my book,"Face In The Rear V...

Dear Roger: The Things You Do For Love

Today was an amazing day. My teenage son spent most of his day helping me put together the book trailer for my book,"Face In The Rear View Mirror." This was not something he did lightly, hes a teenager who was planning on spending the morning playing football with his buddies and then the afternoon with his guitar or napping, but the rain started in and that killed his plans and he watched me struggle along with Windows Movie maker, cursing and squinting through my inadequate glasses, getting more and more frustrated til finally with his trademark," Nick Burns-Your Companies Computer Guy" snarl he said,"MOVE!" and he took over.
He got all the pictures in place, found a picture to fill a gap we knew we couldn't fill otherwise and he then captioned and set up all the animations and fancy stuff that was making me crazy because half of it I cannot see properly and the other half I get frustrated with trying to get match what I have in my mind. He got all the pictures and text in place and it was beautiful, exactly what I wanted and then we hit our first major argument of the day; the music.
He knew what I listened to when I wrote that story, he was sitting next to me on the couch most of the time as I sat there with my ear buds in,alternately either smiling at memories or crying over them and he listened to my stories and some of the music with me, and he knew the one song that inspired me along with the one voice that was in my ears most of the time. When I got up to go referee a fight between my daughter and Stubby over who was farting in the bedroom the worst, he loaded the song and when I came back he had it perfectly synced up and playing along with the pictures.
My reaction was visceral and he didn't know how to handle a mom in tears over a simple song, but he stopped it and asked me why I wouldn't allow him to leave it. I explained that it was most likely tangled up in legal issues that would take years to sort out,and that I was not going to step into the middle of with my paltry little video. I wanted him to record HIS music and he finally agreed after much negotiation and explaining that no matter how special a song may be, sometimes a song from someone close to you is even more special.
He sat and tuned and re-tuned his guitar for at least an hour, driving me up the wall, and he strummed and picked and wool-gathered like musicians do, and he played the one song he had written over a week ago and decided he didn't like it for the video, so he came up with something new.
We recorded it at my kitchen table when we caught a lull in the barking and scratching of the dog, the bickering of the other kids and the noise of the road outside. You can hear a bit of the creak of our chairs and some of the tap of his toes on the tile, but I think it adds to the simple charm of the melody.
He did that for me. He gave up his whole day, working on my video and helping me out when I know he wanted to be off hanging out with his friends, and he wrote a song for me. We may battle like most parents and teens do, but today I feel loved more than a little.

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: Comfort Zone

A Modern Calamity: Dear Roger: Comfort Zone: When I am working on something, such as my writing, I can be very single minded and focused. I often forget to eat sometimes even to drink...

Dear Roger: Comfort Zone

When I am working on something, such as my writing, I can be very single minded and focused. I often forget to eat sometimes even to drink or even get up and move around. If im on a writing jag, I will focus on what I am writing about to the exclusion of almost everything else, except my kids, they tend to be very persistent about getting my attention away from anything. 

This single-mindedness sometimes bites me in the ass and I forget to do other things, oh say like, refill my prescriptions for my seizure medications or eat, or even get enough sleep. I have raging insomnia and often get by on less than 4 hours of sleep a night, sitting up working on my writing or reading, lurking in unseemly areas of the interwebz or just woolgathering in the wee hours when I wish I had someone to talk to other than myself. I have been working on trying to become more social and develop better ways of communicating and actually talking about my books in ways other than just blushing and stammering or lapsing into full on stuttering, but its been difficult though today was a little better.

My boss, a woman a little older than me, hit me up for copies of my books the other day, and while I am fairly okay with sending them off to people who are hundreds of miles away from me and who I don’t really have to deal with on a regular basis, I was a bit freaked out about my BOSS actually reading my stuff, but I handed them over and promptly considered moving.

Today, she stopped me as I was out wandering about doing my regular stuff and she wanted to TALK ABOUT MY BOOK,”DRIFTS”. There were other people around and I thought that might give me a way of escape, but, OH NOO! She was adamant! She LOVED IT. She wanted to know about my inspirations and where I got the ideas and then she told me how she related to the character and that it really struck a nerve in her and she imagines that the reason its popular is because it strikes that same nerve in a lot of people.

I had really been wondering. I really hadn’t understood why it was doing so well, but it keeps selling and people keep asking me for copies of it and its the one people ask me about the most. I also get asked if there will be a sequel, and the answer is; I don’t know. I have to get the characters to talk to me again and right now they are kinda quiet. I hope they talk to me again because while it was a pretty dark story when it was first written, it was fun to write. Just like the next story im about to publish. It was a lot of fun to write and it had different inspirations. 

I have been pretty busy getting stuff ready to go and haven’t written too much lately other than my blogs but I have the start of a very dark and twisted tale on my desktop, and while its got a lot of research and observation behind it, its a hard tale to write on ones psyche because its about a side of “Love” and obsession that most are very lucky to escape, and I cant delve to deeply into working on it without my PTSD pinging off the charts, and the research has had me up nights pacing the floor. I’ve gotten one chapter done and 5 outlined, and all the characters developed, even done a quick and dirty outline of it one night on FB with some friends to give them an idea of where I was heading with the tale and they are well aware of how disturbing it is, and what is even worse, is most of  the research has been conducted by observing real people in the small fandom I am a part of. Ill leave that for another day, because I prefer to write the happier stuff, but I am at the mercy of my muse and when he is in one of his moods, it often works for me best to let him lead. He led me along on Drifts and it seems to really speak to people. 

My books and stories are all over the map when it comes to content and inspiration and I never really know when I am going to have an idea strike me just write where I spend days and days in a focused writing jag, even muttering ideas for progression in the plot as I grab a shower or scrawling them on my hand or bedside table in the wee hours of the morning. 

The book that is about to come out was one of those that progressed in such a manner and it was written after my son made an offhand comment about how he respected a man who would man up and be a father to a kid, even when it was inconvenient when his father who was supposedly a macho tough guy, did all he could to hide from a little baby and a woman. It was just the one comment and that was all it took, like so many things.

Trying to learn to talk about my writing is a work in progress with me. I can talk about a great many things, and I think I am getting better talking about my work, and my writing, and I have my temper mostly under control and Lord knows that insults just roll off of me, especially those from women and strangers because they don’t know me or where I have been. I had some heifer try it with me on FB the other day, she tried to insult me by commenting that my picture wasn’t particularly feminine. Uh, no duh? Im 43 years old with 4 kids at home, I have no social life or anything like that and I have lived a bit of a rough life, so I told her to go ahead and say all the things she needed to say to make herself feel better about herself. If calling me less than ladylike made her feel better about herself, well then,”Bless her heart” ,(oh yeah, I did use that), I told her to go ahead and have at it. I’ve been told worse by better.  I took the high road, didn’t use a swear word or a threat or anything like that, I just broke out the Texan/Southern manners and I broke it off in her and left her looking like what she was and funny thing was, she wasted no time in pulling down her comments. Bully’s and mean girls don’t scare or bother me, I see your pissy little teen angst and I raise you a Hells Angel prospect with a straight razor to your throat in a room where your kids are. I have walked through the valley of that shadow and I was the one who made it out the other side. So I guess I will figure out the whole talking about my stuff pretty soon too. 

Dear Roger:Living The Dream In The Red

I know some of my friends are seeing that title and giggling, that’s okay, I meant it in a slightly pervy way, (you know that I, of all people, would), and what I am talking about is working to make a living as an Indie author/single mom/disabled person/nobody with a few crazy friends who believe in you as your only support team. When I first got encouraged to put my work out there for people to look at and read, I was skeptical, after all, these days, you have to kinda already be somebody to get into any kind of entertainment business or you have to have a bunch of money and I have neither of those things in my court. Most months we dont even have enough money to pay all the bills on time, so I was worried about costs and actually getting the actual books put together, but I had time on my hands because when you dont have money, you dont go places or do things so I researched and got all the information and I started small with Drifts. It was my sacrificial lamb so to speak, and I figured if it got ripped to pieces, I would just pull it off the market and go back into my cave.

Drifts didn’t get ripped to pieces though, and as I write this, its hit over 450 sales on its own. That, I have been told, is kinda a huge freaking deal for an Indie author with no agent who self-published and is self-advertising with the aide of their friends on social media only. I was sent an article that said most books never sell over 99 copies in a year, and I have made that in a month. Now,I wish that meant I was getting rich and raking it in, but with most of those being e-sales or digital downloads of which I get a small percentage, I have yet to see a dime, in fact, I have seen nothing from the e-sale version as of yet and wont until 60 days after  I actually break $100 bucks and with that still quite a ways off, I am still very much in the red. My print books have been what have been amazingly making me the most money. People, especially those who are around my age, like to get something for their money, and I dont mind doing the leg work of actually walking my ass to the post office with my kids to mail out the books to all kinds of far-flung places, and once it was realized I am a hell of a lot cheaper than the big companies, people have been just ordering from me, I sign or inscribe the book and then mail it out to them, but still, in the red. Its crazy expensive to do all this stuff and even being smart about it,(which I wasnt in the beginning), it still takes awhile to get the books in, and then make sure I have everybody handled and then I have to wait for a day when its not pouring down rain like we should be watching for Noah to start rounding up critters, which is a bit of a thing in Portland, so I can walk to the post office with the kids since I still cant afford a car.

I published another book that I wrote over the course of a year and its very close to my heart and its very personal. There are a lot of things in it that are symbolic and there is a lot of gallows humor to go along with the Texas humor that comes with growing up back in East Texas in a time when things and people were different. That book has been great for reconnecting me to a lot of people that I would have never reconnected with, and it also helped force me to deal with a lot of things I would have never had the courage to face on my own. Its been a tricky path talking about that book. People want to know more about the characters and I really cant tell to much about some of them because it would spoil the story for the readers. There are a few people who know who is who and what is what and that’s all that matters, maybe after I am gone they will tell tales out of school and put those rumors to rest, but for now, im not going to talk about somethings, including Beau.  I will tell you that the monkey is real, if you have seen my videos or my summer avatar, thats him sitting on the counter next to me. Fergus was real. Those kids? Oh hell yeah, if you follow me on twitter of FB or any of those places, you know all about my little girl and her obsession with THAT BOY. #fml (yeah, im not too thrilled), but I guess it could be worse.

My daughter is my “manager”, she runs the show around my little writing world and tries to force me to get people to pay attention and buy my book, but with my Southern thing I have struggled with the whole insecurity thing and with waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was on the phone with Puerto Rico last night trying to track down cops to get a kid some help and speaking very bad Spanish in the process while she was harassing a fella who was one of the few I dedicated my pride and joy novel to. See, I had sent him and a couple of the other boys copies of the book as a way of saying,”Thanks” for inspiring me and saving me, and while I was glad to know they got them,(that alone gave me a near heart failure moment), she had been wanting to know if they LIKED it  because I had been mopey due to my reviews being low in number,(I thought), and she is a driven lil thing. Shes like a terrier with a bone and will worry it to death,(I am a prime example of that), so she had my computer because hers was dead, she was logged into her account as I paced in the kitchen speaking  my combination of “Bad Spanish” Arabic, and French, trying to not obsess over the fact someone else was on my computer, or that my Spanish was really bad and that I had been called crazy and probably a few other things as she and some of my friends harassed that poor boy like he was a cat cornered against a fence. When he said my book was “Cool” she shrieked. Jumped up, ran around the room like 3 or 4 times, rolled around on the floor and then hugged me and beat on my back until I coughed.   Honestly? I kinda felt like doing the same.

I’ve got quite a few reviews now, and another book about to come out in the next couple of weeks. I don’t know if I’m ever going to make a profit at this, but its a blast to connect with people and see the reactions to my writing , and honestly, I have enjoyed getting all the artists and photographers connected and working together and we are building a little network of people who are trying to keep the memory of something that was amazing, alive.  Its not easy and we may never get rich and famous doing it, but we are united by the 100th Monkey effect and that is rich in many, many ways.

Dear Roger: Leashing In The Control Freak

I have finally gotten some help with editing my writing. Yeah, yeah,  I know! I should have done it a long time ago, but when you are a highly distrustful, highly critical of your OWN self who takes every little mistake pointed out as an arrow directly to the heart, its very hard to do, but a weird thing has happened lately! i have actually been able to work with a couple of people who have been able to help me control my comma habit, and who have been able to point out and help me correct the things my terrible eyes miss on my 500 paranoid rereads, and I haven't gone off the deep end. I have taken the assistance, managed to remember to thank them and I have used it.
I think because they aren't sarcastic and mean, grabbing the back of my neck and smashing my nose to the paper while they yell at me about all the "Stupid mistakes" I have made, really helps. They are really pretty nice about it.
Remembering what has made me such a glitchy, insecure, over the top, unable to deal with compliments or criticism kind of person, has become a lot easier since a person who grew up with me came back into my life. He was 7 years younger than me, the baby of the small group of kids that eventually ran the meadows and East Texas swamplands that I wrote about in my book. He has been great for reminding me of things I had forgotten, or perhaps blocked out due to necessity. We both survived many of the same things and I had wondered about him often over the years and hoped he was well. I am beyond ecstatic to have him back in my life.
Giving up a little control and letting people help me has been difficult, I am not used to getting help with things or accepting help, and I am damn sure not used to having so many people being behind me and supporting me! Its been amazing and terrifying.
My own family has not been so supportive. My West Texas cousins have been, God bless them, I would truly feel like an orphan if not for them, and I will be forever grateful for their reminders that they are there and behind me in my writing, because I am essentially dead to the rest of my family.
When I call to talk to my sis now, I can tell she is uncomfortable and she gets off the phone quickly if my parents show up. My parents are not supportive of my writing at all, and even though I put quite clearly on the book the disclaimers that its fiction and even did a vblog talking about that, they are pissed off and done with me. I've always been the black sheep and I guess this just kinda relegated me to "black sheep with rabies" status, from what I have been told, they have even blocked my FB page from appearing on their computers anymore.
Its not easy being a parent, I know. My son and I are going through that whole,"You need to sort out your priorities! No! you need to stay out of my life!" stage of teenagerdom and its been rough. My muse took a runner on me during the battles and I haven't been writing while I deal with a son who essentially flunked his sophomore year of high school due to his guitar habit. Not because hes on drugs or running with a gang or any crap like that, but because he would rather sit and pick on his guitar until his fingers bleed than do schoolwork. All the work he did, he got "A's" on, because hes extremely intelligent, but hes just unwilling to do the stuff he has to do. I would threaten to sell his guitars, but I really think he would do something dire to me. You don't mess with his, "ladies". While we have been battling and arguing about his seeming lack of understanding of how the world works, (including the fact that his mom can shut off his Iphone at the drop of a hat), I have tried to make sure that he knows I still love him even when he is being hurtful and mean,and using all the cruel things he learned at the feet of his step-father to hurt me. I've heard it all, seen it all, and lived with it all, and I expect it all. I expect him to trash me and tell me how bad I am doing as a parent. I know that his life has not been idyllic or perfect, but I do the best with what I have and I really don't put a lot on him compared to what I grew up with, but its all part of the process I guess. I think its making me more prepared for the whole having my writing out for public perusal and criticism thing, because I am my own toughest critic. I burned most of my art and photography because I didn't feel it was up to standards that should be seen or that was worth wasting peoples time on, so having my writing out there where people can pick it apart and point out every little mistake and missed editing error is just the ultimate in masochistic indulgences for me.
Sending it to people who I respect and admire was the toughest step and I forced myself to do it. I agonized over it and that was what almost caused me to pull everything down and go into hiding all over again, but I did it and when I got word they actually got it? It was akin to standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and either waiting for someone to tell me the view was pretty cool, or to give me a hard kick in the ass over the edge. Neither has happened, so that feeling of fear lingers. The resounding positive support from long-time friends and associates has been amazing and has gone a long ways towards drowning out the vitriol that is coming from my family.I never expected it. rebuilding an ego is a hard thing, and while I am kinda cocky about a few things, showing mine and what goes on in my head has never been one of them.
My books and stories and poetry are like my children, I love them with all my heart, and I nurtured them and worked hard to make them right, and I want others to love them as much as I do. Hearing that some at least care, that has meant the world and is going a long ways towards fixing many things that have been wrong with me for a long time. Who knew?