Finding Balance by Accident

These are desert 4 o’clocks. I posted some photos of them last summer, but haven’t so much this year because, well, we’ve barely had any. Our incredibly dry winter and spring meant the plants never really grew, much less bloomed. Even the ones next to the house, that I watered twice a week (our water restrictions) faithfully, didn’t get more than a few inches tall.

This clump, however, is on the far side of the driveway, was never tended, and burst into bloom. If you look closely, you can see another clump deep inside the juniper in the background. They’re on the east side of the juniper, so I think the got protection from the afternoon sun, the drying west winds. For whatever reason, they were in the perfect spot to flourish while the rest didn’t.

We spend a lot of time talking about this culturally. Failure to Thrive is a well-studied medical syndrome among babies. Educators constantly seek ways to encourage students to flourish – however that might be defined. Lots of people discuss work vs. life balance.

I’ve had that on my blog topics list for a while now. Actually it’s been #1, through sheer inertia and says:

  1. Work/life balance – only the mommies think about this?

That’s because a friend added me to a Facebook group of “smart women.” (No, I have no idea why she included me. Most of them talk about techie stuff. And marketing. Nobody asks me to explain the power exchange dynamics of a spanking, like my CPs did last night.) One of the things they do talk about is work/life balance. Kind of a lot. I felt like I didn’t have much to add to the conversation (reference: spanking conversations) and I wondered why. Then I noticed that they usually defined the “life” part of the equation as being with the children. As my stepchildren are grown, no wonder this isn’t really a consideration for me.

I’m thinking about it today though. Those of you who regularly read know I’ve been on a long day job trip. And work has been crazy busy. In fact, our boss who is forever exhorting us to work more hours, to make certain metrics, is now cautioning us not to burn out. (It’s entirely possible he’s been replaced by aliens determined to undermine our GNP.) I had enough hours for the week before I started work yesterday, so I’ve been toying with the idea that I should, after a few conference calls this morning, take the afternoon off.

Yes! my brain chimes in, and we could write that synopsis. Send those queries. Answer those interview questions. Send some feedback on the new website, including on that incredibly outdated friends/blogroll list. (I know, I know – I can’t believe none of you have complained about it.) Then it occurs to me to that all of that is just for my other work, my writing job.

So, I think, no, if I take the afternoon off I should do something for life balance. I’m trying to decide what that would be.

Which makes me pitiful, I’m sure.

This is the thing that people often cite about having children, that they force you to slow down and enjoy life. They *make* you play. So, maybe I was too hasty in my judgment, as judgments almost always are, that this is a mommy thing. Maybe it’s on their minds more because they have to think about it.

Perhaps we just all need to find that little spot that lets us flourish.

Like High School, Only Steve Madden

Nothing particularly special about this photo, except that I’m home now and this is how it looks this morning. Giving up lots of gratitude today.

I liked being in Philadelphia and Baltimore, though, seeing what people on the other side of the country are up to. If you follow me on Twitter at all, you would have seen me going on about the resurgence in 80s fashion. I know, I know – this is old news, I’m sure. I work from home in the New Mexico countryside without cable or satellite TV. I’m not exactly cutting-edge anything.

So the resurgence of the slouchy boot took me by surprise.

You know what I mean – the ankle- to calf-high soft leather or suede boot, lots of folds and wrinkles. The young women are wearing them with tight jeans and drapey shirts with *gasp* SHOULDER PADS, people! I don’t miss much of 80s fashion, but by golly, I miss my slouchy boots.

There might be one particular pair of purple suede slouchy boots from college I will always remember fondly.

At any rate, I announced my intentions on Twitter to acquire me some boots, possibly just like those ones I used to have. And one of my old high school friends, the AntiM, replied that she’d already bought some last year. (She is all kinds of cutting edge, even if she’s letting her blog starve  death.) I, of course, asked what hers look like. She said, just like the ones SHE had in high school, only these are Steve Madden.

It is ever thus. We are nostalgic for our young selves, but no reason not to kick in a bit of an upgrade.

Designer Shoe Warehouse, here I come!

Showing Weakness

This is what sunset looks like when there’s fog on the beach. You can’t see the actual sunset, just the rosy orange evidence of it.

Now I’m in Philadelphia for a few days. The buildings are pretty. I imagine pictures of them will be forthcoming.

It’s always interesting to me to be on the east coast, especially down around the D.C. area. At least I notice it more there than in cities like Philadelphia. The competitiveness. Most of it from the white men.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to say stuff like that.

But it’s like they’re all still shooting for herd buck. They talk about power. They play little mind games of withholding information and discuss retirement salaries like they’re analogous to another, more intimate masculine part. When I wonder about D.C. politics, I should remember these men, for whom the stock market is everything and their personal wealth takes precedence.

On Saturday, I took a walk on the beach after lunch. The fog kept everything soft and shimmery grey. I wore a sundress and walked barefooted in the surf, carrying my sandals. As I climbed the steps to the hotel deck, a woman bundled up in sweatshirts, with a little dog on her lap, asked me how it was out there, if it was cold.

I said no, It’s warm. It’s lovely. And I laughed, for the loveliness of it all.

And the guy next to her nodded and said, Yeah, see? That’s why I make sure never to laugh.

I realized he meant that I’d blown my lie by laughing. I contemplated the levels of that as I walked up to my room. That he thought I’d want to lie about such a thing. That laughter is a sign of weakness. And that he thinks about these things, even sitting on a hotel deck watching the surf, that you must govern your responses, in order to win interactions between people.

It exhausts me to contemplate it, frankly.

It would be interesting though, to have a character who makes sure never to laugh, who thinks this way.

Who loses all his money and ends up working as a clown in a three-penny circus.

Bwah ha ha ha ha!

And Now For a Little Beach Time

I’m writing this overlooking the ocean.

One of my very favorite things.

Since I was in Baltimore last week for work, and I have to be in Philadelphia for more work Monday morning, it wasn’t worth it to me to spend all that time flying home. So, instead, I’m here in Ocean City, Maryland.

Surf. No thinking. Lots of peace.

Ahhh.

Last night I was treated to a concert by the fabulous Jeri Smith-Ready. No, she didn’t sing for me, alas. Instead I met up with her at the Merriweather Post Pavilion outside of Baltimore to see the Walkmen and Fleet Foxes. Check out this video from Fleet Foxes if you’re interested. I hadn’t heard of them, but I know Jeri has excellent musical taste, so I went with implicit trust. I bought an album today. Jeri described them as having a Crosby, Stills and Nash sound, which I can see. They use close harmonies and lots of acoustic sounds. There’s also a spiraling, circular feel to their songs that’s most stirring. They music winds around through slow, intimate lyrics to crashing crescendos of harmony.

The Walkmen opened for Fleet Foxes and they did a great job, too. Kind of a U2 vibe there. I don’t consider myself all that musically discerning, but I thought the drummer was really excellent. He drove the songs forward, punching through the lead singer’s lovely tenor.

It was a bit of a pain to get there. Work was long and intense. I had to take colleagues to the Baltimore airport in torrential rain and rush hour traffic, then swap rental cars. Jeri and I resorted to Twitter to find each other. But the skies cleared, the night was balmy, the company excellent. I let the music wash over me and take away all the tension.

Plus I got to hear the scoop on Jeri’s new Sekrit Project and it sounds just amazing.

Happy Saturday!

Be Careful What You Wish For: Studenstein Edition!

I’m off in Baltimore this week, so today I’m hosting the fabulous Daisy Harris, with the second book in her Sexy Zombie series. Seriously – no decomposition in sight and a fascinating world. Daisy has a fun, snarky sense of humor – both on Twitter and on the page.

I think you all will like her.

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Hey Jeffe! Thanks for having me on the blog today. I thought I’d talk a little bit about wish fulfillment, and heroes. I love a flawed hero—the bad boys and gruff lost souls. One of my favorite movies of all time is French Kiss, in which Kevin Kline said the famous line, “When people tell me they are happy, my ass begins to twitch.” That sums up my feeling about “happy” people—they make my ass twitch.

It was with this in mind that I created my flawlessly-perfect and yet deeply flawed Studenstein hero, Mr. Royce Harden. A manufactured human, he’s built to fulfill every woman (and man’s) sexual desires. He’s perfect, and content, and equipped with an array of naughty upgrades.

It’s no surprise then, that Royce is a little too-good-to-be-true. His easygoing nature means that he overlooks the horrors of his situation. He’s a slave, and denigrated every day of his life. And still, Mr. Charming’s attitude is, “It’s all good!”

I loved writing a hero like Royce. Much as I adore romance novels, some of the heroes I read are a little too perfect. They’re everything a woman could ever wish for—and yet I can’t believe in them. Perfect people annoy me. And that’s as true to heroes as it is for heroines.

My Studenstein heroine, Shani is a far, far cry from perfect. A former-sex-slave, she’s got a bad attitude and an abrasive manner. But still, I love her. As far as I’m concerned, the best feature of Shani is that when she meets Royce, she’s completely unimpressed.

All the things that make Royce irresistible to other women just piss Shani off. She sees through his practiced façade, scoffs at his leather pants. Always skeptical, Shani even questions whether the bulge at his front is grafted. This tough-as-nails heroine needs a man who’s more than perfect. She needs him to be a real hero, and that means giving up some of the things that made him too-good-to-be-true.

Want to find out more? Check  out my website (www.thedaisyharris.com) for excerpts and other fun stuff. Or buy it today at Ellora’s Cave!

Buffing Up

This is not how Baltimore looks this morning. No, Baltimore is moist and grey. I can’t see the rain, but people are going by with umbrellas. I’m missing my Santa Fe blue skies.

(Yeah, okay, we had a couple weeks of not so blue – here’s my photo contrasting with the same flowers against a stormy sky from a few days ago.)

So, as long-time blog-gobblers know, I’ve been a proponent of the 1K/day. It worked for me to try to write 1,000 words each day, which I do before I start the day job. On Twitter, someone started the #1K1hr, where write either 1,000 words or for an hour, whichever comes first. That’s kind of fun to do, because groups of people sprint together. However, I find that the time pressure interferes and I don’t enjoy the storytelling as much. Then this one gal had to start bragging about doing #2k1hr, saying that 1K is for wimps, which felt all competitive and awful to me.

There’s a reason I didn’t do team sports in school.

Um, besides the fact that I was a klutz and no one would have me. But, funny, no one ever yelled at me to read more books! Faster!

(Now I’m picturing the librarians like the football coaches, with track suits and whistles, veins bulging in their temples. “You’re just not putting effort into it, Kennedy! I want to see 100 pages in thirty minutes – now, go!”)

At any rate, I think I mentioned at some point here that I’ve changed my approach a bit, with drafting The Middle Princess. When I was in my long spell of revising, it naturally didn’t work for me to shoot for 1K and the then switch to the day job. So I was revising for two hours. That worked fine. And I did it long enough that working for two hours became a habit. (And habit becomes ritual which becomes sacred and then you’re golden.) So I started drafting for two hours. My goals are all set up (on spreadsheets) for 1K/day, but now, once I reach my 1K, I keep going until my two hours are up.

And wow.

I don’t want to jinx myself, but I’ve been amazingly productive. Like 10,000 to 12,000 words per week productive. Plus it feels good and not draining or exhausting. I’m at over 60K on Middle Princess and closing in on the Act II climax. I’m a week ahead of my self-imposed deadline.

Which is good, because I’m braced not to get anything much done while I’m on day job travel.

But, maybe that will change, too.

 

Off Into the Violet Skies

Anne Rice is always bragging on the violet skies of New Orleans. Well, Ms. Rice, I see your violet skies and raise you one. New Mexico totally wins.

I’m off to Baltimore this afternoon for the day job. I’ll be there all week, doing writing retreat at the beach over the weekend and in Philadelphia the following week. I’m hoping to see a few people while I’m in the area.

Meanwhile, Sapphire is up on Net Galley already! It’s also up on Amazon for pre-order and two people have added it to their to-read shelves on Goodreads. It’s all very exciting – and more than a little nervous-making. I’m not even sure I can define why. All this build-up gives me butterflies in the stomach. I’m sure once I walk out on stage, it’ll be fine. Right now I’m wondering if I’ll remember my lines.

Deep breaths.