Cleaning House

So yesterday was a hard labor kind of day. I had help (thank you, Leyla!) and it went more quickly and more… enjoyable than if I had been by myself. It also helped me with my creative muddle.

Have you ever had one of those? Where your brain is so cluttered up with this and that and soon you can’t remember even how to start writing again (alternately: insert creative obsession here). I started the reclaiming the garage project earlier in the week, all by myself. And little by little, things started getting stripped away.

Like the need to hold on to stuff just because it’s mine. Mine I say! I might need that craptastic pan, even though the teflon is peeling up off the bottom. Coffee mugs that I never used because they were too heavy (my grip gives, so a heavy cup to begin with is a bad idea) might come in handy some day.

Mostly, I was holding on to all that stuff because it is what remained after being married to a meth addict for 10 years. I got out alive, with my son, mostly intact. I packed whatever I could into the back of my dad’s car and left. Totally willing to leave everything behind (the pots and pans and some of the other stuff came back to me in a somewhat different way). It left me  with a fierce need to keep EVERYTHING. Because, you know, things dissappear when you live with a drug addict.

But this isn’t about that. Not at the core.

It’s about cleaning up my life, both metaphorically and literally. Because as those boxes were opened and gone through, as the books hit the shelves (voracious reader, remember, there were a LOT of them). I haven’t written, except in bits and spurts, since before my son was born. Because I couldn’t… I had to hide what was going on in my life, in little boxes around my soul.

When you write, you bare your soul.

Letting go of all that stuff, well, it was more than letting go of all that stuff. I actually had a great idea for a short story. And for 3 or 4 essays/non fiction pieces. We’ll see where they go, but the important thing is I’m thinking.. dreaming, again.

All I know is that coming out on the otherside? It’s marvelous!

Changes

Changes, they are a coming. And I’m not sure how I feel about them.

The first is obvious. My little Baby Ray is no longer a baby. He is all boy. He is growing by leaps and bounds. I’m so proud of him– his speech has come a long way from this time last year. He has come a long way from this time last year. He’s a smart boy, too, and has a bit of the imp in him.

Then there’s the change in how I feel about where I’m living. I still feel safe-ish. But not completely safe. I suppose that’s normal, but it’s still an awefully big change for me. I’ve felt safe everywhere I’ve lived except for 1 place.

Work is, well, it’s work. I have a job and am very grateful for that. THat it happens to be one that I enjoy for the most part, and that I’m good at is a super big bonus. But things there are going to change too, it’s the nature of the beast.

ANd my writing. Wow. Has it changed. My habits with writing need to change, too, though. I need to write more consistently, instead of waiting on the muse. I know this, I’ve gone through this before. Yet it’s a lesson that I need to re-learn over and over. What will it take to get it pounded into my head?

And my marriage. IT’s changing too. Evolving somewhat. We spend more time together, as a family unit. Which is ALL GOOD, don’t get me wrong. BUt sometimes I wonder at our roles, and why we have the ones we have, and and and and….

Changes are coming all around. SOme will be good, some bad. But the only thing certain about life is that if you’re doing it right, SOMETHING is BOUND TO CHANGE.

Just gotta re-gain my optimism for the day

Plotting it out

Through editing, and writing new words, I’m probably just about 2,500 – 3,000  words into the new story. I’m really enjoying writing it, even if last night I discovered to my chagrin that my bad guy is not a bad guy at all and may possibly even be one of the heroine’s greatest allies. SIGH.

My characters up and do this all the time. They don’t want to be purely good, or evil. It’s just a horrible situation made worse by the involvement of a child in it, and people are going to play the roles they are going to play.  Which is going to make it interesting…

THere will be no one villain to this story.

Don’t get me wrong, there will be bad guys, people who should be smacked down with a braodsword (btw- I write fantasy LOL).  But the main driving force of the WHOLE novel isn’t them. THey only factor into Part 1, not parts 2-4.

The rest is going to be pushed through by situation. By a mother’s feirce love for a child who isn’t quite where he should be… Well, you’ve read the blog. If not, go forth and explore. It’s something that I’m familiar with, and it is enough, more than enough, to sustain a story.

So. Old Lord Orlando is going to end up being a Stand Up kind of guy. I can deal with that. I think it will make the story even better, too. Even if I do have to scrap those words.

Because at least now I have a great lead in and know where I’m going.

YAY!

Writing

Have written close to 1200 words this weekend. Not much time left for writing here, sorry. Will try to get something up Monday or Tuesday for you.

The one, lone person who is reading this.

I’ve also included a pic of myRay of Sunshine as my header. Let me know what you think…. Personally, I think he’s adorable LOL

Wyn

SAD, SAD DAY

Just said goodbye– dropped him off and waited long after he’d faded into the system. “This is it,” I told him, tell myself. “Once this is done, your past is behind you. That Brian no longer exists. Lay him to rest while you’re there.” Easy to say, harder to live by.

That’s why I’m hiding. Hiding at Denny’s, of all places. Somewhere where no one knows me, really cares if my eyes fill with tears. Which is why they won’t. I do not cry in public if I can help it. Instead, I gather my resolve, put pen to paper and let it out. No one knows or cares about what someone else is scribbling across the back of their check stub.

This is merely the warm up. Tonight, the real show begins. The Mommy & Ray show starts playing again. And no mis-cues can be tolerated. The sakes are too high.

And yet, still, in this particular situation, I am the lucky one. Because I was able to witness Ray’s conversation with the moon last night.

Quick Bits

Just a really quick update on various things before I get to work.

Yes, I said work. I am working 2 days a week, sometimes 3. It gets me out of the house and stretches that unemployment further. Plus, I do like my job (most days LOL).

Ray got his hair cut on Saturday. He looks like a real boy now… No more baby. No more Rocker Baby hair for him either. It is a proper little boy hair cut and he looks adorable– just not like my baby any more. AND MOMMA MISSES HIS CURLS!

Found out that the course of my writing is apparently one of the toughest to break into. However, as I’ve mentioned before… Money is not the point. (I keep telling myself that over and over, maybe some day I’ll believe it). It’s the enjoyment that I get out of it, and the bonding with Ray. And maybe I’ll share it soon. We’ll see.

Anyhoo– Time to punch the clock. OUCH!

Wyn