Life...

Sucks....at least it does sometimes. I'm blessed enough with my husband, sons, family and friends to not take the good things, or even the bad for granted. Life happens, even when we aren't ready for it. It just moves on forward without really caring whether we are ready for the next steps or not.

God doesn't give us anything on our time frame, he gives it to us on his. The universe trucks on by, regardless of us and our plans.

My dad is fading. Faster and faster everyday. I see pieces of him disappear so quickly I can barely stand to look at him. He is a shell of the man who raised me.

I'm praying that the loss of my grandma will help me through this hard time to come. I'm praying that my father never knows his behavior or feels ashamed or lost. I'm praying that God takes him sooner rather than later because living a life empty isn't really a life at all. There is pain to come that I don't want to even think about. When he forgets me, when he looks in my eyes and there is no spark of mischief or laughter in his own.

I want to scream at God and ask him why?  Why must his children suffer so at the end of their life. Why can't they hold onto dignity, and why, oh why did my father have to be struck down with this horrible disease so early.

He's a walking miracle. He was a premie baby born at a time when premies rarely made it. He had a heart condition that could have taken his life at anytime during his childhood. A cancer that so ravaged his body he wasn't even supposed to see my younger brother born. And through all the odds, and suffering, and broken legs he has made it to this day, only to suffer all the more. My father has Vascular Dementia and Alzheimer's, and a part of me really wants to hate God.

Life sucks sometimes, but then I'm sure everyone out there knows it....even God.

Lit-"Miserable"



Shoveling Shit

Every point in life is important for different reasons. When it's your children you document everything. Baby's first tooth, baby's first step, walking, laughing, and words. Everything is written down and photographed so that you never forget, so that you'll always remember.

I have compared my books to children many times. They are important to me, I have poured my soul into them not unlike I poured my blood and nourishment into my children. It is the closest metaphor I have to compare. Writing a book will challenge you, drain you, and ultimately make you beg for mercy. Some days are better than others, but like those first few steps you document the big ones.

The first finished novel. The first book sold. The first good review, and the first bad one. Book blogs, and giveaways. I remember them all. The first is always more exciting than the second. You stumble you make mistakes. You try again. I am at a new point in my writing life. I am ready to take that next step.

I have been writing query letters, and let me just say for the record, that it is terrifying.

The idea of trying to sum up my story in a few paragraphs feels impossible. And like the book blurbs it feels fake, cheesy, and ridiculous. The point of a book is to tell a large story. Something that can't be explained in a few chapters or even pages. How do I sum it down to just a page?

I beat my head against the desk and hope that what Stephen King said about writing is true. Sometimes you're doing good work when it feels like all you're managing to do is shovel shit from a sitting position.

I'll take his word for it. He should know after all. So I'll get back to my WIP's and my queries and hope the shoveling of shit finds some gold buried under all the manure.


Here's some music inspiration!!

 

 

 

Nick Mulvey-Fever to the form