So, there I was, writing along on the new novel on Sunday, and posting bits and progress to Twitter, like I do. And a tweet pops up from Kate Elliot (an author I have not read, but discovered that I will be reading for book group in December...) about despair. Her tweet was a riff on Galadriel, I think, but Stephen Gould, one of my teachers from Viable Paradise mentioned that he understood about despair because he was despairing in his living room the night before.

Then, Beth Bernobich, who is a great writer four books or so into her career asked these two very established writers, "Wait. You guys despair?" And Stephen said, "Of course we despair. We're writers." And Kate suggested she might write a post about despair. I would like to read a post about despair. I told them I was despairing even as I was writing.

***

Yesterday's post, was, I think, a very realistic post. It was also me working through some feelings about this round of queries and rejections. The only way I can avoid sinking into sadness about the great void is to keep working, either on the new story, or at work. That's one of the types of trying to break in despair. Stephen suggested if I was despairing, I must be doing something write.

***

However, I notice that every writer has their level of despair. It's like being a monk in the old Dungeons and Dragons system--by the time you become a Grand Master of Flowers, your despair must be as mighty as your universe reversing martial arts. Here are some examples of recent level ups that I know about from others.

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There are two things upon which I build my writer training: Malcolm Gladwell's expertise hours (5428 down, 4572 left to go!) and the fact that it took me fifteen years (college prep and job shifting) to land my ideal job at Kirkwood. Gladwell's theory should help me become a better artist. The fifteen years is about the patience that it takes to get to the place you want to get.

So, in 2007, I put away my sewing machine and dug out my computer, and started writing. What have I done with my six years in my writing career?

More under here to save the frankly bored with Catherine talking about herself crowd.

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Bryon and I recently sorted through our DVD collections. We culled some stuff and reorganized some stuff. Of course, the primary realization was that we have a lot of DVDs, and we'll probably need some more shelves if we keep up this sort of nonsense.

Our anime collection is most likely finite now since we do not go seeking new shows, but it is still the largest collection of viewable material we have, even after the culling. There are things in the collection that are clearly not mine ( Devilman Lady, anyone?), and there are things that are not his (original in Japanese Ribon no Kishi), but most of the stuff we both enjoy on a sliding scale toward me or Bryon.

We thought maybe we should rewatch some of this mighty treasure trove. So, we viewed X, which is just as melodramatic as ever. (The music! The feathers! The cherry blossoms!). And we are currently watching Azumanga Daioh, comedic school strip that delights in the truths of adolescence. In between the two of these, we retackled Revolutionary Girl Utena. We hadn't viewed the Right Stuf re-mastered anniversary edition yet, so...there you go.

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Yesterday, early in the day, I was just down. (No, this is not an emo post. Shush.) I was feeling pretty sad about the whole writing thing, and the likelihood of publication, etc, etc, etc, ad nauseum. You know. You've been there.

Then I rolled up my sleeves and did some work in my real world. I checked finals, portfolios, and figured grades for six hours. And when I wasn't doing that, I solved student and teacher problems, and worked on a budget, and just made myself thoroughly useful. Then, after that, I went home and I critiqued all the short stories I had to critique for a workshop at the end of the month. In between, I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting since bronchitis, and the gain was not that bad.

Puritan work ethic, you served me well. At the end of the day, I went to bed tired, but satisfied. Today, I'm working through several things as well. Yes, I like getting things done. It just makes me feel good.

I then realized that the problem wasn't the lack of acceptance. The problem was too much going on in life, too much hanging over my head. I needed to dig out some, and that made me feel better.

Which is not to say that if the universe felt like it could throw me an okay on this book, I wouldn't say no...but that's obviously not the real problem here.

Just interesting when you figure these things out. Let me write you a real entry now.

I'm about to launch myself into my email box and download a whole lot of finals. Then I'm about to tackle a tower of portfolios from my classes, and then I'll probably do some more work. I am buried alive at the moment in work stuff, Mindbridge stuff, retreat stuff, and the only way out is through, with a shovel. Some evil genius upstairs thought that maybe it would be a good idea to have only three days between the end of spring session and the beginning of summer session. Sigh.

***

It looks to be a very busy few weeks. I've begun my full time period here at Kirkwood, and I will not have writing hours on the job until August again. However, I do go on vacation on June 13th. My life is like this: this week, hugely here. Next week, hugely here until Thursday. Then, Wiscon. The following week I work one day, because after Wiscon, Colorado retreat. And then a three day work week, a four day work week, and vacation.

From June 15-30, this journal will be on a little vacation. I'll be doing a service learning project in Vietnam, and it's not recommended we take tech with us...so apart from a camera and an emergency phone for the college, I'll be living the tech free life. I'll obviously have loads to show and tell when I get back.

***

After this, I have some vacation in July. This will include Convergence, and my fake family reunion, before I go back to work July 24th. It goes without saying that I'll be doing some writing on vacation. Then full time until school starts again on August 19th.

Don't you wish you could plan your summer away in a short set of paragraphs?

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So, other things. In addition to being busy, Abby Rath is out and about. At the end of things, probably about September, I'll sum things up. There's at least one shiny bubble, so that's something. As usual, the query process is hard on you. I could use at least one massage and a margarita. A day. You know, to console oneself.

The new book progresses, and I'd like to have more time to work on it.

***

I wonder what plans you have for your summer. I wonder what you're writing. I wonder what flavor of margarita you like. Just askin'.

Bryon and I went to see Iron Man 3 last Friday. It's certainly not the most anticipated film of the new wave, but I wanted to see it. Iron Man was fine, and had some nice twists. Iron Man 2 was an all out armor fest (meh for me) except for those 5 minutes where the Black Widow fights everything and wins. So, I didn't know what to expect from IM3.

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Sometimes, when you look into the mawing abyss of the universe, and you feel that maybe you are sending bottled messages into the ocean, and no one is responding to your query letters, well, then the universe will send you a way to make you feel included.

In my case, that is the dozens of students that I've seen today who want help without about everything under the sun. So, it does matter that I exist. And I shouldn't be having any time to think about the silence of the submission.

The mystery of life? Sometimes you can have no rain, and it can pour AT THE SAME TIME.

Off to faculty luncheon. Will nod and smile a lot.

I have yet another new rule. You may remember Schaff-Stump's First Rule of Writing:

THOU SHALL NOT SEND OUT CRAP. (which boils down to multiple drafts, multiple readings of the work by others, going with the gut instincts of which suggestions feel right to implement, and feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. which does not mean holding on to a work until it's perfect.)

Well, here's Schaff-Stump's Second Rule of Writing:

DO NOT BE DISTRACTED BY THE SHINY.

What on earth does that mean????

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Horus is the last of the Ennead. He is the child of Isis and the re-assembled Osiris, and primarily his role in Egyptian mythology is to retake the kingship of the gods from his usurping uncle Set. There is a pivotal moment in that battle where Isis tries to help Horus, and Horus gets mad at her and that could symbolize some cutting of the apron strings. Horus does gain ascendancy over the pantheon.

Now, here's where things get a little confusing. Horus and Ra are often conflated, so Horus is also associated with the sun, and is also associated with ruling the gods. The thinking is that Horus was absorbed into an earlier version of the pantheon and since he was a ruler, the combining of Horus and Ra was easy. Ra is represented as an old man, Horus as a falcon headed god, and usually the combined Horus Ra is falcon-headed as well. That's why in the Klarion novels, both Horus and Ra will be raptors.

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Now that we're finished with the Ennead, we should talk about the duality of Sekhmet and Hathor. Many pantheons around the world love duality. Who doesn't like, say, Parvati and Kali? So, next time, get ready for drunken dancing and lots of blood.

The day started off inauspiciously, with a small auto accident. I scraped a woman's mirror, and I have called to get it taken care of. Ironic that I have an accident when my facilities are at the best they've been while I've been driving for a while.

Coming up VERY soon: Horus. Utena. Iron Man.

***

But I have to post this, which is the first letter I've ever gotten from a fan for a published work. I will reproduce it as accurately as I can, and since it's from a 10-year-old, well, there will be misspellings. I am charmed and humbled at the same time.

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