Slowing Down

They’re waking up when I come into town. Shopkeepers, housewives. A few beggars. This town doesn’t have very many—I remember that from the last time I came through. I’m not sure they like that sort.

I probably look like a beggar to most of them. My shoes are getting thin around the soles, and my jacket’s been threadbare for, oh, nearly a hundred years now.

They don’t make things like they used to.

I head for the pastry shop first. This town has an impeccable pastry shop, and if I remember rightly, it’s run by a very sweet young lady with a streak of gray in her hair. I don’t make many friends on my rounds through the country, but I’ve always counted her as one of them.

Her daughter answers my knock. Her daughter with the cold eyes and ash gray hair. Her mouth pinches when I ask about my friend, and she tells me that particular grave is more than a dozen years old.

I’ve been gone longer than I thought.

I mumble apologies—and my condolences—and buy three sweet rolls and a chocolate bun, although the smell in the shop isn’t nearly as heavenly as it was years ago.

The price of time, as they say.

The woman’s sharp gaze fastens on the pennies I’m counting for her, and the silver coins mixed in with the coppers cause her eyes to widen greedily. I want to laugh. I want to tell her that those particular silver coins won’t bring her any luck or happiness. They never have for me.

But I don’t. I pay for my meal and wander on, munching a sweet roll and studying the town. It looks worn thin. The streets are thick with dust, and the buildings slump wearily, although I’m willing to bet they’re not half so tired as I am. Nor half so old. I’ve been charged with bringing the life back into these places—this town and about a hundred others scattered all over the western coastline. I travel to them each in turn, leaving pieces of my soul behind, and they never used to get in such bad shape while I was gone.

I think I’m slowing down. Getting old.

A thousand years as a cursed man will do that to you.

Quite a few of the shops in the main square are empty and boarded up. People left, I guess. They must have gotten tired of waiting for the grass to grow and the flowers to bloom again. The fields around the town are nearly dust themselves, but that will change soon enough.

I sit down by the fountain in the middle of the square and finish my bun. I used to rush through the towns, when all of this first started. When I was a young, newly murdered conquerer, and the gods sentenced me to spend a thousand years undoing the damage I’d done to the western coastlands. I’d rush through the town without stopping, flipping my silver coin into the fountain as I passed by, somehow thinking that if I hurried, I’d get through a thousand years a little quicker.

I’m not in such a hurry these days. I’ve got time to buy a few sweet rolls, talk to a few drifters, maybe make a friend if a shopkeeper doesn’t mind my worn-out coat and whiskers.

They don’t last long, those friends. I learned that the hard way. I miss them when they’re gone, more than I ever missed anyone when I was alive. I don’t think I appreciated life the same way back then, but I’ve grown to treasure the moments a little better now.

A thousand years as a cursed man will do that to you.

I brush the crumbs off my coat and dig a silver coin out of my pouch, dropping it into the fountain before I head off on my way. It’ll be raining soon, probably before I get out of town, and before the week is out the trees will push out new leaves and the flowers will be blooming in the hollows again.

I can’t wait around to see it, of course, but it’s nice to know the trip was worth the effort. Maybe I’ll shuffle a little faster this time around, and get back before the last of the day lilies die out.

I have a friend who might like a few on her grave.

A Day In The Life

I am a full-time writer. I’ve mentioned that about a million times on this blog, along with noting that I run my own business as a freelancer. But today, I’d like to dive a little deeper into what that looks like on a daily basis.I’ll give you a hint.

I don’t actually spend my entire day writing.

Nor, strangely enough, do I spend my whole day in my pajamas, although I work from home and generally spend the majority of my time with my kitty and my newly acquired puppy. No boss checking that I’m meeting dress code here! Except for me, and I have my own policies about that. But, we’ll get into that. In short, this is what a typically day as a freelance scriptwriter looks like.

5:30 – 7 AM: My alarm goes off stupidly early. My husband sets it for me every night, usually because I’m already buried in my blankets and stick my head out to ask if he will. He’s a good sport. I like to get up before the sunrise to get a start on my day before the rest of the world is awake and jostling for my attention. It gives me some space. Now that we have a puppy in the house, I take her out on her leash to use the bathroom, then walk over to my parents’ house to jump on their rebound mini trampoline.

People always laugh at me for the jumping thing. They can’t seem to figure out why I do it, and it weirds them out. Simply put, this is my time. I stick my headphones in, and I work on my books. Stories don’t just show up, you know. You have to plan them. You have to make space for dreaming and talking with characters and imagination, and this is my space. If I don’t have this time, I don’t have books. Period. You might say this is one of the most important parts of my day as a writer.

7 – 8 AM: When I get home, I clean. Obsessively. I find it very hard to be creative if the dishes aren’t done or the floor isn’t swept, so before my day really gets started, I make sure that all the little chores are well and truly finished. This is also when I get dressed—no pajamas here. I’ve learned through a bit of trial and error that I feel 100% better if I’m dressed for work and have done my hair and makeup. It’s the little things.

8 – 9 AM: I study Spanish with Duolingo. This is one of my weirder habits—it has nothing to do with my career, probably won’t be relevant to my daily life anytime soon, and as much as I enjoy it, I probably will never become a fluent—or even competent—Spanish speaker. But it’s something new and different for my brain to do, and it keeps me sharp.

9 – 12 AM: This is my first big ‘chunk of work’ for the day. I generally have meetings during this time to discuss scripts, casting, story problems, or just provide updates for deadlines and revisions that need to happen. When I’m not in meetings, I’m writing. Depending on the day, I might be throwing together an outline for the team to approve for a script, or drafting a chapter for one of my two books in progress, or writing dialogue for a script. This is all usually accompanied by a cup of tea, trips outside with the puppy, and my kitty attempting to crawl into my lap to get the love and attention she deserves.

12 – 2 PM: Lunch, another trip outside with the puppy, and maybe if I have time, I’ll walk over to my parents house to see actual human people and jump. Another brainstorm session helps get me back in the game for an afternoon of writing.

2 – 4 PM: More writing. Afternoons are hard, y’all. This is when I start falling asleep. Music generally helps, and sprints with my writers’ group over text. When we’re all working, it always encourages me to get more words in. If I’m working on books that particular day, this is also where I will switch projects. 1000 words in the morning for one book, 1000 words in the afternoon for another. We don’t always hit that, but we try.

4 – 6 PM: I’m prepping dinner, listening to crime podcasts or an audio book, and taking the puppy out for a good romp before the husband gets home and we eat together.

6 – 9 PM: This is supposed to be free time. It really, really is. But if I’ve got a tight deadline on a script that I’m trying to meet, or if I happen to be feeling particularly inspired, I’ll curl up on my couch with my computer and get in a few hundred extra words. My cat usually sits on top of me, and my husband plays video games next to me, so it’s all very cozy. Or, if my writers’ group is up for it, we’ll toss out a few prompts through text and free write for a while—which is always good for creativity and opens up dozens of interesting doors.


There you have it! This is what a typical day as a freelance writer looks like—at least in my neck of the woods. This was an enormously long post, but if you’ve ever wondered what a writer actually does in a day, now you know!

Lost in the Mountains

foggy-empty-road-3994192

I got lost this weekend.

My boyfriend and I went up into the mountains on Saturday. We were heading for Chessman reservoir, up in the mountains. The plan was a picnic . . . roast chicken, sparkling cider, picnic blankets. I was planning on taking pictures.

I didn’t take any pictures.

We used Google maps, see. And Google maps doesn’t always take you where you think it’s going to take you.

It took us somewhere we weren’t expecting.

We ended up on a dirt road winding up through the mountains. Lots of boulders, dead trees, and gorgeous views. I loved it. Except the part about being lost on a road that was so narrow it was a little awkward to turn around.

That’s when my boyfriend’s phone ran out of service and the map glitched out, leaving us with a blank map and miles of nowhere stretching out in every direction.

We turned around three times.

We ended up at a gate on private property and decided that this was probably the wrong way. So we drove all the way back to where the road was paved again and followed the map old-school style to the reservoir.

This method worked.

Sort of.

The map brought us to another, even narrower dirt road with a ridiculous amount of traffic on it. Cliff on one side, hills on the other. We pulled over a lot. To let the cars by. When we finally made it to the lake, I was ready to get out of the car.

Except there was no parking. Because everyone and their brother and their sister and their Aunt Matilda had decided to visit Chessman reservoir that day. So we circled the parking lot, turned around one more time, and found a place next to a stream to have our picnic. Cliffs, gorgeous trees, sparkling cider, a hidden nook to have our picnic, and places to wade and cool off.

So it turned out pretty amazing.

Despite all the twists and turns.

What did you do on Memorial Day weekend? Any big plans? Tell me about it in the comments!

Howling at the Moon

full-moon-illustration-684441.jpg

This has been a strange week.

Stranger than normal, I mean.

Yes, I know, the whole world has been strange for the last few—millennium. But this week has seemed a little stranger than normal. From crazy warm weather to snow when I definitely didn’t want snow to changes in my work schedule to projects I didn’t expect to be working on to howling at the moon, this week has been strange.

Yes. I said howling at the moon.

Allow me to explain.

See, with all the virus stuff going around, we’ve been stuck in our homes a lot. And for us, it’s not so bad. We have thirty five acres, right? So we can wander around, run through the woods, find turtles, chase squirrels, and generally keep ourselves busy.

Okay, I lied.

I’ve never found a turtle on our property in all of my whole life.

But I’ve dearly wanted to do so.

The point is, we’ve got it pretty good quarantine-wise. Plenty of space, people we love, etc. But some people are stuck in their little homes and apartments, and some people are ferrying back and forth to work in the hospitals and take care of those who are getting sick.

So, we’ve been howling.

Because our healthcare workers are the heroes of this story, and one of the things that are being done to support them right now—at least in Colorado—in the eight o’clock howl.

We can’t have a parade, see. Because social distancing is important right now. So instead, we’re all coming out on our porches at eight o’clock and howling like coyotes to show appreciation for our healthcare workers and remind our neighbors and communities that we’re still here, even though we can’t come out just now.

Obviously, our ‘neighborhood’ is a little scarce on neighbors.

I’m not even sure they could hear us.

But it was the spirit of the thing that counted, and we had fun doing it. I posted a video on my Facebook and Twitter pages of the howl, but I won’t inflict it on you here. The point is, things have been a little crazy around here lately. And when things get crazy, sometimes it helps to go out and howl at the moon.

Are your communities doing anything nightly to celebrate your healthcare workers? Tell me about it in the comments!

Finding A New Normal

silhouette-photography-of-tree-during-sunset-209788.jpg

I’m working exclusively from home these days.

I think most of us are, right? Those who can anyway. I’m so, so grateful to have a job that transferred to my house as easily and smoothly as mine did, and that continued to supply the same amount of hours that I’d been working before. Still, the transition has been a little strange, and I am still getting used to my new routine and the changes it’s brought into my life.

For one thing, I dropped the eight-to-five-with-a-lunch-hour routine and now start my workday at six AM on the dot. My best writing time is always in the early morning anyway, and this new schedule leaves me with an afternoon that’s free and clear.

I’ve planted a lot of seeds.

And found a lot more time for my own writing projects.

Mostly though, I’ve been learning to balance things again. To find the routine and the rhythm that gets me into work in the morning and out of it when I finish up in the afternoon. See, before, I had my commute to rely on for that. An hour’s drive with an audiobook or with my dad for company went by much quicker than you’d think, and by the time I reached home, I was ready to be home instead of still having my head stuffed with work.

Now, I finish work on one computer and immediately feel like I should be picking up the second one to ‘get on with it’.

Except that’s not realistic.

Neither is starting work five minutes after I’ve dragged myself out of bed, which is also tempting.

So, I’ve been making habits. Habits with alarms in the morning, workouts in my tiny living room, showers and a change of clothes after work is done, time in the sun, and time with people I love. The little things make all the difference right now, and I’ve been seeking out the things that keep me sane—sunshine, fresh air, new growth, and space to breathe.

Basically, I’m building a new normal. Something sustainable, until the world starts up again and life outside our homes can continue on safely. I hope you all are doing the same!

What are you doing to keep yourself sane in your ‘new normal’? Tell me about it in the comments!

New Life

beautiful-blooming-blossom-blur-298246.jpg

I planted carrots this week.

Carrots, zucchini, and radishes.

And bought turnip seeds.

I’m kind of excited. Spring may never actually get here because Colorado is constantly freezing and unrelentingly windy, but I will have radishes growing in window boxes in my house anyway.

We’re still not sure about the carrots and zucchini. They haven’t sprouted. When I finally get around the planting the turnips, I’ll let you know how those do.

I don’t really expect to live off of fourteen carrots, six zucchini plants, and an undisclosed but small number of radishes, but it’s nice to actually have something new and green and living in my house again. It may be cold and rainy and windy and snowy and muddy all at the same time in Colorado, but I have radishes sprouting, so Colorado can’t stop my tiny corner of spring.

Don’t tell it I said that because it totally probably can.

Anyway, despite the freezing weather, the quarantine, and my lazy butt that never seems to get much done when I’m working at home, life is moving on, and I’m excited to move with it. As long as we go somewhere warm that has sun.

Because I need sun.

Despite it being the WRONG time of year to plan for a garden, I am making tentative plans for a garden. Along with my assorted veggies, I have some flower seeds to plant, a gorgeous lavender plant, way too many trees to get started, and a vague idea about planting saffron, which apparently grows well in Colorado and likes our crazy dry-as-dust ground.

Saffron has purple flowers. And is a very expensive spice. So I’m tempted to give it a go.

However, like any good gardener, I am keeping an eye on the weather, and I’m pretty sure I have at least two months before I can plant anything outside. I think. Maybe.

Except we have blizzards in May sometimes, so maybe I’ll plant everything inside and just let it out for some sun on the days when the ground isn’t frozen.

Do you have plans for growing things this year? Tell me about it in the comments! When do you put things outside?

Sick Days and First Drafts

4k-wallpaper-adorable-blur-boy-1148998.jpg

I was sick this week.

No, not with a virus.

Just a cold. I promise.

But it meant that I was out of the office on sick leave. Mostly, I just slept on the couch. And watched Toy Story. And drank way too much water and downed vitamin C’s like candy, because who has time to be sick, anyway?

Thankfully, I seem to be on the tail end of it. For which I’m grateful.

Being sick messed with my writing schedule, both at work and in my personal projects. And lately, my personal projects have been anything but perfect. See, I’m writing the first draft of a story.

And first drafts are hard.

You know why? Because I don’t know what happens in the story. I don’t know who all these characters are. I write ten chapters, then half of it gets deleted because the story took a different turn than I expected and what I wrote doesn’t fit anymore.

Characters do things I don’t expect them to do.

Things pop up in the most unexpected ways.

Settings refuse to let me see them, so I have to feel my way around in the dark and hope for the best.

It’s all very confusing.

You’d think I would be better at first drafts by this time. After all, I’m a writer. A (sort of) professional. I get paid to write stories, and every story begins with a first draft. (Unfortunately.)

So I should have the process licked by this time, right?

Right?

Well, not exactly. Because the reality is, first drafts are hard. They don’t make sense. The characters wander in and out and change as you write them, and the setting never looks quite the way you imagined it would. Some parts are wordy and boring and others happen so fast that you forget to put any emphasis on the important bits.

For goodness sakes.

But, first drafts are not supposed to be beautiful. They aren’t supposed to be put together, or comprehensive, or elegant. They are supposed to exist, inconsistent characters, choppy dialogue, major plot holes and all. So I am embracing this new story in all its messy wonder, exploring this world without worrying about the gorgeous chaos I am causing. The characters can change and the setting will grow, and I will snoop my way through all of it until I have made a lovely, glorious mess of colors and lights and words scattered across the page in a completely incomprehensible muddle.

And when the first draft is finished and the last words are written, I can start completely over and make something understandable out of it.

When I get over this cold, anyway.

What kind of things are you allowing to be messy and beautiful in your own life? Tell me about them in the comments!

Introvert Recovery 101

people-notes-meeting-team-7095.jpg

I had a crazy week.

Like, really crazy.

First of all, I spent all five work days at conference centers, attending—and presenting—at meetings. Which meant a lot of talking and a firehose of information. Stories were planned. Characters were examined. Exciting things happened.

I think I survived. I haven’t checked yet.

Secondly, we had quite a lot of snow, which got so bad that Wednesday night my dad got stuck on his way home and had to be rescued. I elected to stay in town for the night rather than try to make it home through the drifts. I called one of my best friends who also happens to be my godsister, and she graciously invited me to stay the night with her.

So, I slept at her house instead of going home. And fell in love with her gorgeous dog.

It was actually wonderful.

But by the time that Saturday rolled around, I was pretty much spent. Like, blank stare kind of spent. Being a scriptwriter and telling stories for a living is the best, most awesome thing ever, but it is also probably the most draining thing I have ever done. There are no auto-pilot days at the office, and my creativity takes a pretty regular beating.

So, on the weekends, I recover.

Recovery, for me, usually involves quiet moments. Silence. Stories that I don’t have to tell. And really, really good food.

Because who doesn’t love good food?

This week, I spent Saturday housesitting for a friend. I took my little sister with me, and we spent the whole day cooking good food, eating an entire carton of ice-cream between us, and watching TLC’s Say Yes To The Dress.

I fell asleep on the couch.

For several hours.

Basically, we binge-watched shows and slept the weekend away. It was exactly what I needed. Introvert recovery is hard on the best of days, but if you can find a special sister to spend it with and a place to hide away without interruptions, you’re well on your way. And, since I firmly believe that creativity is impossible without recovery in-between, it was the best thing I could have done for my books and the scripts I’m currently writing.

So everyone won!

How do you recover after a particularly draining week? Tell me about it in the comments!

Milestones

On Thursday, my boss came back from California with two things.

A picture, and the first page of the studio script they had been recording, signed by the actors.

That’s right. My first script has officially been recorded. I have an Adventures in Odyssey episode with my name on it.

How crazy is that?

Now the page from the script is framed on my desk at work, the picture is being shared with all of you, and I am back at work developing my other pitches, scripts, and outlines, because life goes on and the world doesn’t stop for fanfare.

But that script page, for me, is a massive milestone. It’s a cumulation of nearly eight years of hard work and about seven months of the toughest writer’s bootcamp that you can possibly imagine. I had no idea what accepting this job would mean for my skills as a writer, or that I would discover just how much I really didn’t know within the process. I am learning from the very best in the business, and there is no scraping by with something half-done. The last seven months have been a lesson in intensity, but I have grown in leaps and bounds. This script is evidence of that.

Getting this job, despite all the other people applying for it, was a huge milestone in my career.

This first script is the next one.

Milestones are so important to celebrate and remember over the years, especially for the days when life gets discouraging. The script page, signed by the actors who brought it to life, is my celebration of this milestone. Whatever else happens this year, whatever else comes my way, I had a script recorded. One of my ideas worked out. That, for me, is a huge win.

The episode isn’t done yet by any means, but for now, it’s the sound guys’ problem, and I’ll be on to new projects and other things.

That, in itself, is worth celebrating.

What kind of milestones has 2020 brought to you thus far? Tell me about them in the comments!

Newsies

I didn’t fold my laundry this weekend.

Scandalous, right?

Actually, my weekend turned out just a little bit too busy to include boring stuff like laundry and clothes hangers. On Sunday, like an actual adult who has an adult job and does adult things, I got all my meal prep for the week done, including breakfasts for my sister and I and lunches for the entire week.

Then I dumped the rest of my Sunday tasks, dressed up all fancy, and went out to sushi with my mom and my sister.

Because weekends are short, y’all.

After sushi—and wandering around in the grocery store in serious big-girl heels and makeup to make sure we had eggs in our fridge before Monday—we went to see a play at the Ent Center for the Arts.

A Broadway musical, actually, performed by the Starz Theater group.

Newsies, to be completely specific.

Guys. I loved it so much. So much. We sat in the balcony above the stage, which meant we could see everything, and since the story was completely new to me, I was completely enthralled. The theater had been sold out all weekend, and I was lucky to get tickets as last minute as I did. I’m so glad I did.

The story, in a very tiny nutshell, is about a group of newsboys in 1899 New York City, taking on the corrupt newspaper tycoons of the day. Everything about it was fantastic. It may not have been a Broadway cast or a Broadway stage, but the Starz Theater group, in my very humble opinion, did an amazing job portraying the story.

Basically, I loved it. The songs, the choreography, the fabulous set design, and, of course, the snarky lead. Honestly, the moment the lights went down in the theater and the curtain rose, I knew this was going to be a winner, and I was not disappointed.

Yeah . . . I’m going to be listening to the soundtrack for a while.

What is your favorite musical? Tell me about it in the comments!