Dear Roger: Two Years Sees A Lot Of Changes

Yesterday was quite a day in our little corner of the universe, the long awaited event finally occurred and my daughters favorite boy finally became a father. I think I will never again hear in the higher registers. I have to wonder, why do little girls find it necessary to shriek when they are happy? I think my poor neighbors probably had small heart attacks when I saw the Facebook status of his sister post and I looked up and said to my daughter,"Hey, guess what? Jackson's finally a daddy." and she let out a shriek of joy that was probably heard by the boy himself wherever he was.
Poor Spencer jumped, the cat ran and hid and my friend Jen, came close to dropping her Iphone on the tile floor as we watched my daughter race around the apartment yelling and laughing and cheering, stopping only to do the math and smile to herself as she said,"I'm either 8 years older or 19 years younger, either way, its okay!" I promptly sprouted gray hairs in places that had been hold outs as I Google searched the phone number for lock down style all girls schools.
It was a happy day, and a busy day. I bought my domains for the internet so I can hopefully get my books out there with a little more visibility and maybe start making some money on them instead of bleeding cash, and I spent a good hour on the phone walking another person though getting their writing self-published. One of the domains I bought is specifically for that kind of thing, "MonkeyAfire" is going to be a networking site for all of us brought together by the 100th Monkey effect, all of us who want to keep that spirit alive and moving forward, and I hope to get people networking and bringing forward those who are working on building their own dreams.
Summer is finally trying to arrive here in Portland and I am glad to see it. The cold has worn on me and with no concerts to look forward to this summer, I had despaired having anything to look forward to, but things are improving, I am starting to write again when I can fit it in between trying to promote my books and make a little money to support my writing habit, and I am still hoping against hope to get that one shout out or bump that makes all the difference for me, but so far knocking on doors, tweeting, messaging and sending my books out into the great unknown has just netted a trickle of interest, but I wont quit, I have my little girl sitting next to me most of the time, encouraging me and patting my back, reminding me why I do what I do, and telling me her plans for when we are finally able to afford, "Good used car and a full months groceries."

Dear Roger: This Month, We Think Of Gratitude

Summer is a time of reflection for me. I woke up this morning on my nice new leather couch in my comfortable living room without anyone yelling at me,(other than Spencer, my dog), and I realized that I have been in Portland for almost 2 years, at first with just two of my kids and then a year and a month later, with all of my kids. Its been two amazing years of changes. I still have my issues, some days are better than others, but I have been steadily employed for almost a year, I am a published author x's THREE and I have FRIENDS that I actually hang out with on a regular basis. I still stay in the house more than I go out, and I still struggle with hyper-vigilance, my stammer, headaches and my temper, but I go more days wanting to be here than not.
I am enjoying my life more. I'm not ducking and dodging and worrying about appeasing anyone so they didn't hurt me or my kids.I struggle and scrounge to keep my kids clothed and fed, and we don't have extra anything, but we are HAPPY. My eldest son is now learning how to drive thanks to my new friend, and I got to go see a movie in the theater with another adult and we acted silly and hooted and hollered and OBJECTIFIED the hell out the men on the screen and I walked out of the first movie I had seen in almost a year, laughing.
I've gotten tougher I think. I stood my ex down and told him to leave when he showed up here in Portland thinking he was going to bully me into supporting him and putting up with his crap again. I went "Keep Awake" on him and I managed to get just the right amount of "scary psycho chick" look in my eye and he scurried away to go mooch off someone else, leaving us with debt we didn't need, depleted cupboards, a cat with worms and fleas, and junk in storage I just managed to get hauled off yesterday. He kept the damn van, deciding he needed it more than me and the four kids.
Its taken us a bit to recover from his,"Visit" and even his paltry contributions of 100 here or there when the mood strikes him haven't done too much to ease the stress of it all, but knowing he wont be back would be more help. I've finally filed for child support, because after his last call where he told the kids he had spent the last two weeks sitting on the beach reading while we were scrambling trying to find money for milk and bread, I knew something had to give. I decided that nothing motivates a man to get busy like threats of going to jail or losing their drivers license. I don't do this lightly, but when it has been years and years of nothing but excuse after excuse for not supporting his kids, for failing them, and being a lazy slob, then something has to be done. Hes not disabled, hes just lazy and its time he gets some proper motivation. My eldest son wants me to go after his father too, and while that scares the hell out of me, he says its time he finally does the right thing as well.
Its going to be an even busier year this next one I have a feeling and hopefully just as upwardly mobile. My kids are happy and safe, I feel mostly happy and safe and I am proud of the progress I have made these past two years. I have grown a lot as a person and I am alive. He has not won, and in spite of his attempts to continually pick at my insecurities and bring me down, he is the one who is essentially homeless and who has done nothing for himself or his kids. I have clothed, fed and sheltered them on my own and I have managed to hold down and job and publish THREE books while all he has done is criticize me for following my dream, but the voice that use to roar right in my face with the straight razor at my throat is now just a whisper at my heels.
My little girl is creating an event on Facebook and inviting people to our "Two Year Celebration of Life" on July 28th. She is stone cold serious. If you can, come join us, it wont be fancy, but it will be happy.

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.