Pushing Out Our Babies

I read a blog post today comparing book writing with child birthing and while it was metaphorically delicious and lovely to read, I’m over here like… yeahhhh, I’m ’bout to actually have a baby and it’s much scarier than a book launch.

I launched that book last month. It went out into the world and my hooha suffered no damage whatsoever in the process. I slept well that night and several nights afterward.

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Not so with real babies.

 

But I am prepping like it’s my job and I’m happy to report that every bag has been packed, every diaper-holder filled, every piece of laundry I can use in the next 6 months has been washed, folded, and put away. I am as ready as I could be for this baby.

But here’s the third biggest difference between baby-making and book-writing: I Can’t Start Until She’s Ready.

Whereas… if I were writing book, I’d already be elbow-deep.

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Scarcity and Stickers

I have to tamp down on this urge I have to encourage my son to save stickers.

“Save” them. Because they are so valuable and they have such abundant and practical uses that we wouldn’t want to “waste” them by, you know, putting them on our clothes and our arms and our toys and other places that do no damage to anything but the stickers themselves.

I have a lot of “saving” urges. Not hoarding, mind you, but like… save the most delicious part of the meal for the end. Save the strawberries so we can still have some at the end of the week. Save the battery life on the phone so I still have plenty by the time I get home.

Pointless things. Things that make no sense. Things I’m afraid will go away too quickly but really, things that are meant to be used or enjoyed right now.

My dad said once, “I used to save the best parts of the trail mix til the end so the last part I ate was the part I liked best. But sometimes, someone comes along when you’re at the end and all that’s left is the parts you like best and scoops them all up and eats them before you get any.”

(I think my mom may have eaten the chocolate bits one day)

“I don’t do that anymore,” he said. “I eat the part I like best first because why not?”

sark-thiswayI’m a big fan of the author, SARK, and all her wonderfully illustrated books because more so than any other self-help type book, she makes me feel like she’s holding my hand and accompanying me down the dark aisles of my brain, waiting for me to discover, process, mourn any losses, adjust my perspective, and accept the truth without judgement.

She writes about Scarcity Thinking (and I wish I remembered which book, but I don’t right now) and how coming from a perspective of Scarcity rather than Abundance limits our behaviors and encourages our fears.

Apparently, I’m scared that there aren’t enough stickers.

Or that there aren’t enough pleasurable things or experiences so I have to hold fast to the few I know are available.

It’s not true, of course. And it’s certainly not the kind of thinking I want to encourage in my son. Because even if there is a limit on battery life or strawberries or chocolate bits, there are other things out there to be enjoyed. There are other experiences to appreciate. And there are SO MANY other stickers.

So, sure, stick all the stickers, one on top of the other, all over your shirt, little dude. Even when we run out of stickers, there are plenty other wonderful things to see and do and explore and enjoy.

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Who Hasn’t Been Kissed by a Rose on the Gray?

I started writing something new a few days ago–another coming of age type story that uses Batman Forever as a turning point in a young woman’s understanding of sexuality– but I’m still… you know, pregnant and not having much luck in not sitting on the couch ignoring my discomfort and pain with endless article-reading and Buzzfeed quizzes.

I just think that there are times when you need to let time pass rather than spending it wisely and late pregnancy is one of those times.

But I assume there will come a time when I can write again, perhaps with an infant strapped to my chest, perhaps about all the things I won’t be doing because… I have an infant strapped to my chest.

Although… I do have a WIP that involves a woman with an infant strapped to her chest who walks out of Target only to meet up with a mythical creature spouting nonsense rhymes at her as a call to action. She complains a lot about her husband not helping enough and not understanding how difficult it is to constantly be with your child with very little outlet other than weekly trips to Target. And if that’s not “write what you know” then there’s no such thing.

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It’s Heeeee-errrrrre (GHOSTS!)

Coworker drama! Institusluts! Moms who can’t let go even after they die! 

Lay Her Ghosts to Rest is available TODAY on Amazon!

 

What started as a totally pantsed (that being “by the seat of my”) NaNoWriMo and CampNaNo project has become… A Real Book that you can buy and read and then also review if you’re a responsible reader.

Go get it and read the crap out of it!

Lay_Her_Ghosts_to_Rest large cover“Ohhh, not a player slayer at all, are ya? Just a covert convert.”

“Not quite. I think. I’m not sure what that means. But no, I did not fall for his game. We dated. We… lived together, actually. For quite a while. But it didn’t work out and we broke up and he’s not pleased with how things ended.”

“You dumped him.”

“I ended the relationship, yes.”

“Why? And are you the reason he’s become the Instituslut?”

“The what? Institu–? That’s not even clever.”

“I didn’t come up with it.”

Neologenius!

My son said to me the other day, “Mom, whobody’s outside?”

“I don’t think there’s anybody outside, bud,” I said.

“Somebody out dare, Mom. Whobody is it?”

 

I know it’s part of the process to let kids discover words and then gently correct them when they mispronounce, no matter how cute they are. I reluctantly repeat the words “video” instead of “boodoo” and “computer” instead of “puku” but whobody? Whobody makes sense.

I propose we add “whobody” to the English lexicon and anyone who disagrees will be forced to watch a boodoo on my puku of my son adorably asking “Whobody’s dare?” over and over until ya’ll see the genuis of it.

 

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*not my child. 

 

P.S. Just a couple more days of fun summer lovin’ LGBT novel discounted to $.99 before my new workplace drama about ghosts and self-care launches. Buy some stuff, eh? I got another kid on the way.

All the Things Coming Out Soon

Inconvenient timing, this book launch coinciding with some fun pre-term contractions. Very distracting to have to think about both of my babies entering the world around the same time.

The good news is that the contractions have subsided and it looks like I’ll keep on bein’ pregnant for at least another few weeks (although I’d prefer 6 or 7 weeks to keep in line with my due date).

And with my new book coming out August 11, and that delivery being much more predictable and under my own control, slightly less stressful as well.

I’m just all about birthing good things into the world this month.

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High-five, kids. 

 

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Lay Her Ghosts to Rest, emerging from Amazon on August 11. Available for pre-order now for $2.99. It’s the least messy project I’ll be delivering in the next month or so.

Meet My Irresponsible Muse

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My Muse is definitely a drunk girl in a bathroom.

What incredible inconvenience, my mystery muse, to give me an idea whose time has come just in time for me to have NO TIME for writing! I’m already juggling enough, my muse! How can you just slap a story across my face and expect me to comply?! Don’t you see those IKEA boxes full of children’s furniture sitting on my nursery floor? Can’t you tell my mommy brain is in full effect? Don’t you see my struggling to get up into my cafe table desk chair? Why? Why now?!

 

So good news, I have a great idea for my next book!

Bad news, I’m like… SO pregnant and so busy and so distracted that I don’t think it’ll happen any time soon.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a preorder on my last new book so… cool! Thanks, Mom. Or ladyfriend. Or… stranger?! Regardless, you won’t be disappointed. Lay Her Ghosts to Rest is the best thing I’ve written so far and I’m super proud of it. Tell your friends! Make them order it too. Momma’s going on maternity leave soon and needs some residual income, if only enough to buy a few more ice creams before the summer ends.

 

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Cheeky preview of my next new thing. 

I Like to Tell Stories

One of my toddler’s frequent declarations lately is, “So much fun take tings apart an put them togethah.”

“I’m glad you like your toys, bud,” I say as he yanks all the face parts off a potato head for the 15th time in a row.

But he’s got a point. When you find something you love to do, something that makes sense to you and provides you with a certain amount of satisfaction even in repetition, it is so! much! fun!

Mommy says, “So much fun, writing stories, ripping them apart, and then putting them back together.” Even when I complain about editing, it’s still part of an overall process I really enjoy.

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Although… I can say that now because I’m pretty much done.

Details to follow! A new book! About ghosts and self-care and workplace issues and feminism! Oooooohhhhh!

Hobbies are Self-Care Too

I was doing some light reading yesterday in the doctor’s office because my appointment never starts more than 40 minutes late and I only have so much battery power on crappy hospital Wifi when I came across a chapter dedicated 100% to my procrastination. It said*, “Eda, the only thing stopping you from editing your WIP is you.”

*I could be paraphrasing. Maybe.

And while that isn’t all the way true, because I also have things like household chores, chasing a toddler, being pregnant, and working two jobs to contend with, I feel like maybe some of those times when I’m scrolling through Facebook searching for articles that confirm the downfall of the Empire or taking my third “Which pizza topping defines your archetype” quiz on Buzzfeed, I maybe could be editing instead.

I’m not even at the boring part of editing. I’m reading through to make sure it makes sense. I’m reading “for enjoyment” (and continuity). I’m not even proofreading, man. You’d think I could get through it quicker.

It’s a little bit procrastination, a lot of distraction, and a fair amount of guilt holding me back. There ARE, in fact, other things I should be doing. But if I care about this project, I need to make time for it. Writing and self-publishing is a hobby and I’m content with it remaining so but it’s one that keeps me sane so yeah, I need to make time for it too.

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I’m Too Busy Being a Wonder Woman to See Wonder Woman

As the sane world goes mad for the new Wonder Woman movie and Facebook posts from media sources as well as my friends laud the film, hoping and wishing that it’ll change the world, I’m here just… working and raising my kid and getting kicked in all sorts of unpleasant places by my own little wonder women-to-be.

I haven’t seen Wonder Woman. I haven’t had the time. Between moving and working and my primary baby sitters (my in-laws) having a wide and colorful variety of health issues, I haven’t been able to find one night or day to spend watching a movie that I desperately, achingly, paradigm-shiftingly want to see.

So when I do finally get to see it, it better not disappoint.

Meanwhile, as I deftly maneuver all the obstacles of daily living, nurture my son so hardcore that he actually said, “Mommy, me have big heart for you,” the other day, and try not to sprain an eyeball rolling them over whatever new physical discomfort is being used as an excuse to go to the ER instead of babysitting my child, I am HARDLY AT ALL feeling like the wonder woman that logically, I know I am.

Yeah, I looked it up on the internet which, these days, is tantamount to exhaustive scientific research, and there are lots of pregnant ladies getting kicked in the cervix so no, I’m not alone in my discomfort. But I’m willing to guess that a good chunk of those ladies don’t have quite the active job requirements I do and aren’t as miserable at having to sit them out as I am. I now run my after-school program from a folding chair. I have to stop myself from getting up to demonstrate. I have to enlist my students to remind me that chair-teaching now is better than bed rest later because at least for now, I’m present. I’m vocal. I’m helping. I’m working and earning that cashy cash I’ll need later when I can’t work at all.

But I’m super bummed to be sitting still so often.

I want to ride horses into battle in armor that shows off arms toned by a life of physical domination and general awesomeness. I want to be able to lift a sword without saying, “Ooof!” and grabbing at the stabby stab hurts of round ligament pain. I want to be a princess-turned-general too, you know!

Pregnancy sucks. Little girl, you get your parts built and come on out. Then we can ride horses into battle together!

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