Profound Revelation

A bit of wisdom I realized this morning. I guess it qualifies as a profound revelation! I was watching my favorite Sunday show: CBS Sunday Morning. They start with a quick review of the headlines, but mostly just do stories on celebrities, movies, music, design, money and the like.

As I watched the headlines, which started with “…Trump tweeted…” I realized that I wasn’t reacting to that news, nor have I reacted in a few months other than with a shake of the head. I was simply observing. As a writer, I’ve been observing all my life. Sometimes I’m aware of it; sometimes not. But at this juncture between old age and death (!!?) I’m not only observing, I’m aware that I am observing.

The good news is that there is no judgment, for the most part. No trepidation (a relief). No anxiety of note (besides the lifetime of free-floating anxiety that I’ve adapted to for the most part). Just observing. And observing myself observing.

It’s a good feeling. Freedom from the fear-based diatribe of the day/week/year. Putting my psyche at least two levels away from participation in what qualifies for politics these days. Thank the gods!

Energy Rising

It took a while, but I’m finally getting my springtime energy boost. I did more renovations after that last note and brightened my bathrooms significantly. New is better in the bath. New paint, new light fixtures, removal of an old, awful cabinet on the wall. Replacement on the way. I used one of my round mirrors on the wall in place of the old cabinet. Looks so much better! Feeling good in general.

Getting acquainted with Lenzee Littlehorse. She’s such a feisty little thing! She has virtually none of my hangups and is wide open to life and love…fun to watch (and be) her!

A friend, a long-term end-of-life client, is in what she calls a hospice “holding tank” now. Making progress. Her body is worn out. Sending her Love and Light. Hoping it goes smoothly for her.

Today I’m resting. Flirting with a guy online. Rearranging plants.

An easy, quiet life.

Here’s a Haiku I wrote this morning:

Awoke at 4, sore
Climbed in my hot tub to soak
Body turned to smoke

Story telling ala Haiku. It’s my thing since I wrote the memoir in that form.

Spring has finally arrived in my heart. I’ve been unable to bloom until now. I think I may be back to being my former, cheerful self. I sure hope so.

… and a year later…

It’s been a long time since I managed to update this blog. Much has happened. While I was in a relationship, my creative juices (writing oriented anyway) went south. I managed to stay in touch with my home renovations, but barely. I just sat there, more or less. I am reassessing things, obviously. The post break up renovations are pretty much done now, just a little maintenance, which goes on continually. And writing has begun. I’ve been editing books (all still unpublished) and making them better.  One of my (several) alter ego characters, Lenzee Littlehorse is working on an erotic fiction book. Valencia is working on two books, both memoirs of a type. Those books may have to go to press as fiction to suit legal requirements. But Lenzee is a new pen name, so she should be able to publish things surreptitiously. So for now, just this note. And an image of some of the renovations. More to come!

My niche?

I finally won a writing prize. It’s been a while…since high school! Of course my entering contests has been intermittent or invisible over the decades. This was an erotic fiction contest and I sent in my best story, a compilation of several. Well the sex scenes anyway. I found that no matter how many stories I wrote, the sex scenes were all pretty similar. But the fact is, I’ve got several of these stories written, so perhaps this genre will be where I find recognition. I like recognition. The reviews I got (submitted it on FanStory.com) were wonderful. People liked it, men and women. Maybe I will write that erotic anthology that I’ve been keeping on the back burner. Admittedly, my memoir hit the wall (though a version of it will appear, but it will not be as graphic, either in sex or childhood violence.) Wait, maybe I should become more familiar with graphic novels…I can certainly see the story that won, Hoover, as a graphic novel! I’d have to get somebody else to draw it though. I’m good at words and pretty good at graphic arts on the computer, but not a comic artist. Anyway, just my meanderings. My apple tree in bloom below, along with my fun sunglasses! Onward and upward.

Memories…

Watched a PBS special about memory/the brain. Perhaps I can understand slightly why Balboa didn’t want to publish my memoir. There is a chance that some of what I remember isn’t entirely “true” though it is my Truth. Each of us experiences reality differently and though the abuses I recall have made real pathways in my brain…I’m a writer, given to embellishment.

So I’m editing my book of essays. Much less revealing of the depth of abuse, but still, a memoir of sorts. Plus, let’s face it…just writing the first book helped me finish getting over any real or imagined abuses, so win/win!

That win/win is something I always seek. Found it!

All is well. Stay tuned!

And the bad news is…

I’ve been notified by Balboa Press that some of the entries in my memoir may be considered libelous. In order to use those poems I would need to get notarized statements from the people who I mention as being abusive (or just generally awful to me) before we can publish the work. Here is an example of something they consider potentially libelous:

Best friend’s brother, Scott

Stumbles through my small, sick world

Lusty, crazy nights!

Well, as it turns out, I don’t have to have a statement from people who are dead. However, in another complication, I DO need their permission (dead for less than 70 years…) to use images of me that were taken of me as a child.

Therefore, I’m thinking I’ve learned a very expensive lesson here. Somehow celebrities can write how horrible their childhoods were, but I can’t mention the things that happened to me! I asked the good people at Balboa Press, “Then, what, pray tell, am I recovering from?” as the book becomes an uplifting tome as I find peace of mind through recovery. (I have received no response though it’s been more than  week…)

At any rate, I’m not going to publish the book. It was a book I needed to write, but apparently not one I needed to publish. I’ll make a few copies for my friends and call it good (and I WILL use the childhood images…so sue me!)

Now I’ve got to notify all the friends who went to the trouble to give me copyright permission. I know they were excited to see their images in print (so was I!) It was a long and arduous process, tracking down people I hadn’t seen in decades, but I did it. Only to discover that I would also need to ask people to admit, in writing in front of a notary, that they had been mean to me ten years (or 50 years) ago! Yep, an expensive lesson.

So goodbye for now, Little Valencia…I’ll tell your story to a select few. But your dream of having other people see that recovery is possible…is dead for now. I’m sorry, dear little hurt child. You are nonetheless, loved by me and many others.

Interesting reaction…

I submitted the book for publication and then there were a few things that had to be done afterward. My main feeling is “I’m done”…I really expected to feel excited or anxious or relieved…but no, just “done”. I’m already putting the next two book together in my head! One is essays on the topic of my life and the other is erotic fiction.

My memoir…? I’m just done with it. Hope it looks good. Hope the publisher does a great job. Hope a few people like it, in its odd format, enough to glance through it. But I’m on to other things. And all is well.

This wonderful image was taken by Pushpa Carbaugh. I learned (the hard way) that copyright images essentially never die, so I want to give credit where credit is due!

Memoir: My Book is at Balboa Press!!

At 2 PM today I submitted my book. I had moved past abject terror, anger, depression and into acceptance, oddly, feeling approximately the same feelings one goes through when grieving in this process. It’s DONE!!!

There are lots of steps still to be taken, some by me, some by the publisher, but it’s there. It was difficult to find a genre, since they didn’t have “memoir” as one of the choices. So I went with, Self Help, Spiritual, General. It feels great to have it done, off the plate, on its way, flying through the ethers, DONE!

Stay tuned!

Images of My Life!

I just sent off all the images for the book. It was a heart-pounding experience. I thought I’d get this done much sooner, but unexpectedly intrusive health needs slowed me down. Grateful for and simultaneously disdainful of modern medicine.

But have finally gotten some relief from the discomfort of interacting with healthcare and those activities made me brave enough to send in the images. I’m still trying to set up the proper account to submit the text. That, given the nature of “telling all” will really give me heart palpitations! I have spoken to my brother about the stories I’m telling (not in detail) but some members of my family will literally never know I wrote this book. I’ve no urge to hurt feelings, there’s nobody to report the abuse to at this late date (and/or all the perpetrators are long dead), and I’ve come through the young-life difficulties pretty well. More than half my life has been full of friends, happy times, growth-producing situations – yes, those too – and the occasional period of deep, sometimes debilitating grief. Things we all face regardless of our childhood challenges.

And now I’ve even faced the grown-up health problems (yes, actual problems) that sometimes accompany the leading edge of old age and I’m older and wiser now than even when I put the book together. Aha, perhaps there’s another book in there somewhere, though I can promise you it won’t delineate my healthcare situations. Those shall remain my purview, though I do share some with my closest friends (sometimes too much if you ask them!)

Still I’ve finally jumped off the ledge upon which I stood precipitously in March…I’ve made arrangements to send the book to the publisher. Wish me luck!

The Terrors of Writing a Memoir

I talked to my brother yesterday. Many topics. But the thing that strikes me in virtually every conversation is how little attention he paid as we were growing up, and even after we left home.

Now granted, his life in our house was pretty awful. He played the Scapegoat role, although he was the oldest child. Our mother lost a baby before my brother was born and that baby, the unborn one, became the Hero Child in our family. Well, of course, an unborn child could do no wrong…so everything that a real, rowdy little boy did, was seen as needing correction. Sometimes those corrections involved beatings by our dad. Perhaps frequently. My brother, doing his best to emulate the “man of the house” passed those beatings down to me, always in stealth, so there was no help or assistance from the grownups.

But I paid attention. My life seemed to depend on it. So I know things that my brother missed or failed to inquire about. When we took my mother to an alcohol and drug treatment facility (WAY before it was a fashionable thing to do)…my brother told me he didn’t know she had a problem with substance abuse.

All his life, our dad joked about catching another man “climbing out the bathroom window” when he came home from work early. It wasn’t a joke. My mother herself told me of affairs she had, and even as a child I noted the number of visits she made to a doctor of whom she was quite fond.

And yesterday when I mentioned a long-term affair that our grandmother had with a married man before she married the man who I knew as my grandfather (her second husband), my brother knew nothing of that either.

So no doubt some of the things I describe in my memoir will come as a surprise to family and friends. I know that my daughter won’t be happy that I describe in some detail the estrangement from which we seem destined to suffer. I do take my share of the responsibility, but she literally left the country to get away from her unhappy childhood. I chose to put words on paper to work my way through.

So apologies to those who feel unhappy with the memoir. It’s the way I remember things. These are my experiences, from my viewpoint. And sometimes, OUCH!!

The image shown here is the first draft of the cover of the book. I know the publisher will help me make it more professional. But here is the child who was so observant…and wrote things down…