Eva Pasco's Blog - Posts Tagged "coping"
The Breakdown Lane
An Indie author who takes writing seriously, I devote time each day feeding the beasts of social media for the purpose of marketing my published works. It’s no secret, Indies must work hard to showcase their work in the hope of attracting potential readers, with no guarantee of a single sale for days or weeks at a time! Yet, the six award badges my Contemporary Women’s Fiction novel merited since its publication in September 2016, provide incentive for me to keep up the momentum…
…Until my role of caregiver took many hairpin turns, prompting me to pull over in the breakdown lane while I get my bearings for dealing with the new norm. As of April 8th, I’d taken a temporary leave of absence from social media except for maintaining my weekly blog, reading, reviewing, and editing. So I say!
If I’m too spent by the end of the day from physical exertion, the psychological hit, and mental anguish—all bets are off the table. Opening my novel document hasn’t even been a consideration due to the focus required. The remains of the day are usually devoted to anticipating and plotting the following day’s agenda before venturing into uncharted territory. And, crashing!
Meanwhile, I’m mindful of eating healthy and exercising to maintain my strength, stamina, and mental acumen. It’s become increasingly important for me to keep up with housework as a means of dispelling bouts of manic energy, and maintaining order in-house while losing my grip otherwise.
I long for the day when I’ll have just enough peace of mind to open my document and resume writing my next Contemporary from where I left off drafting chapter 6 a couple of weeks ago. That mentioned, I’ve got my eye on easing out of the breakdown lane to merge with traffic and continue the journey I’ve embarked on.
Best wishes to every Indie in triumphing over adversity.
Eva’s Byte #260: Small Measures
Thinking outside the box and discovering viable alternatives to survive and thrive.
Most likely of little to no significance for those who graciously read this blog, small measures provide solace to me while self-isolating during the COVID-19 pandemic. In this together, traversing common ground, perchance you’ll relate through your own newfound consolations under siege—thinking outside the box.
This week’s small measures of note:
1. Choosing to make even fewer supermarket runs to replenish perishables, I sought an alternative to cow’s milk which could be purchased online. My blind-buy, never-before-tasted dare resulted in the bulk purchase of 32. oz cartons of unsweetened hemp milk. Besides the health benefits, I love its creamy, frothy consistency. I’ve even acquired a taste and craving for the “putty” flavoring.
2. Low maintenance, de rigueur of the stay-at-home day, I threw all caution to the wind by not blow-drying my hair after a washing. Lo and behold, it brought out my spiral curls without sacrificing volume. A healthier alternative to frying, eh?
Along the writing front of my Contemporary WIP, I’m at the tail end of chapter 46, hunkering down to nail dialogue, one of my pet peeves in striving for perfection.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far. May you take solace and joy in life’s small measures to survive and thrive.
Eva’s Authors Den Page:https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Most likely of little to no significance for those who graciously read this blog, small measures provide solace to me while self-isolating during the COVID-19 pandemic. In this together, traversing common ground, perchance you’ll relate through your own newfound consolations under siege—thinking outside the box.
This week’s small measures of note:
1. Choosing to make even fewer supermarket runs to replenish perishables, I sought an alternative to cow’s milk which could be purchased online. My blind-buy, never-before-tasted dare resulted in the bulk purchase of 32. oz cartons of unsweetened hemp milk. Besides the health benefits, I love its creamy, frothy consistency. I’ve even acquired a taste and craving for the “putty” flavoring.
2. Low maintenance, de rigueur of the stay-at-home day, I threw all caution to the wind by not blow-drying my hair after a washing. Lo and behold, it brought out my spiral curls without sacrificing volume. A healthier alternative to frying, eh?
Along the writing front of my Contemporary WIP, I’m at the tail end of chapter 46, hunkering down to nail dialogue, one of my pet peeves in striving for perfection.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far. May you take solace and joy in life’s small measures to survive and thrive.
Eva’s Authors Den Page:https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Eva’s Byte #282 – Lost in My Own Space
Ever since I made the difficult decision to assist my beloved 15-year-old feline, Hope, in crossing over the Rainbow Bridge, I’ve been lost without her and lost in my own space.
At this juncture in life and point in time, it isn’t feasible for me to adopt another. So, I consolidated and packed Hope’s favorite catnip toys in a container which rests on a storage box next to my desk. I donated food and cat litter. Hauled away, four cat perches. They’d endured the wear and tear of two feisty gals who’d climb to the top even at their ripe old age.
Lost…
A pet parent for so many years, I didn’t realize all the extra work involved until no longer required:
The storage closet next to where the litter box used to be doesn't need a weekly wipe down. I’m not vacuuming stray litter here and there around the clock. Upholstery and carpets are free of cat hair. The kitchen floor stays clean without washing it twice per day. I’ve closed certain doors, normally left open, so those two could explore secluded areas. Not that they couldn’t open the doors themselves if curiosity motivated them enough.
Housekeeping perfection was never a priority over cat-friendly surroundings.
Lost in my own space, filled with memories, I’m constantly reminded of how two furry companions made this place a loving home, on their terms.
In my capacity as a writer, I’m coming to a close in the white space occupied by chapter 56, part 3 of my Contemporary work in progress.
*My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
At this juncture in life and point in time, it isn’t feasible for me to adopt another. So, I consolidated and packed Hope’s favorite catnip toys in a container which rests on a storage box next to my desk. I donated food and cat litter. Hauled away, four cat perches. They’d endured the wear and tear of two feisty gals who’d climb to the top even at their ripe old age.
Lost…
A pet parent for so many years, I didn’t realize all the extra work involved until no longer required:
The storage closet next to where the litter box used to be doesn't need a weekly wipe down. I’m not vacuuming stray litter here and there around the clock. Upholstery and carpets are free of cat hair. The kitchen floor stays clean without washing it twice per day. I’ve closed certain doors, normally left open, so those two could explore secluded areas. Not that they couldn’t open the doors themselves if curiosity motivated them enough.
Housekeeping perfection was never a priority over cat-friendly surroundings.
Lost in my own space, filled with memories, I’m constantly reminded of how two furry companions made this place a loving home, on their terms.
In my capacity as a writer, I’m coming to a close in the white space occupied by chapter 56, part 3 of my Contemporary work in progress.
*My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Eva’s Byte #292 – Stardust Memories
Inspired by “Stardust,” a song recorded by Nat King Cole in 1957.
Stealing across the meadows of my heart, the refrain of stardust memories from Christmases of yesteryear during childhood and adolescence.
One stardust memory, in particular, was joy riding through cities dressed in holiday style. Streets adorned with garlands strung from one side to the other, and centered by wreaths dangling in the middle formed a never-ending arch.
At the urging of my mother, sister and I, my dad would oblige our request to take off to find the bright lights. We’d file in our station wagon and assume our usual positions, my sister and I at opposite ends in the back seat.
Off we’d go hither, thither, and yon to Providence, Pawtucket, or Cranston on any given evening leading up to Christmas.
Our favorite excursion, by far, was Garden City in Cranston.
Another favorite stardust memory is how my father went to great lengths in perpetuating our belief in magic. As cited in my Nonfiction Memoir collection, 100 Wild Mushrooms: Memoirs of the ‘60s—Memoir #69 -The Christmas Conspiracy:
In 1961, for my sister’s benefit, my father got the notion to drive us to Boston on Christmas Eve where Santa was purported to have been holed up to greet boys and girls. My sister cast a pall over my father’s good intentions as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, whining her concerns about whether we’d be home in time for her to fall asleep before Santa came down our chimney.
By the time we arrived at Boston Commons, having spotted Santa mingling with children who’d also made the pilgrimage, my father plowed through a throng of people. He approached the red-suited fella, pointed to where we stood, and bent Santa’s ear long enough to persuade him to tell my sister he wouldn’t be taking off for the star-studded skies until much later. When it was her turn to tick off her wish list and tell him what a good girl she’d been all year, Santa allayed her fears and winked at my father.
*At this juncture in time when a pandemic modifies our holiday gathering plans, it’s more important than ever to haul out the holly, put up the tree, and make merry to create stardust memories.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Stealing across the meadows of my heart, the refrain of stardust memories from Christmases of yesteryear during childhood and adolescence.
One stardust memory, in particular, was joy riding through cities dressed in holiday style. Streets adorned with garlands strung from one side to the other, and centered by wreaths dangling in the middle formed a never-ending arch.
At the urging of my mother, sister and I, my dad would oblige our request to take off to find the bright lights. We’d file in our station wagon and assume our usual positions, my sister and I at opposite ends in the back seat.
Off we’d go hither, thither, and yon to Providence, Pawtucket, or Cranston on any given evening leading up to Christmas.
Our favorite excursion, by far, was Garden City in Cranston.
Another favorite stardust memory is how my father went to great lengths in perpetuating our belief in magic. As cited in my Nonfiction Memoir collection, 100 Wild Mushrooms: Memoirs of the ‘60s—Memoir #69 -The Christmas Conspiracy:
In 1961, for my sister’s benefit, my father got the notion to drive us to Boston on Christmas Eve where Santa was purported to have been holed up to greet boys and girls. My sister cast a pall over my father’s good intentions as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, whining her concerns about whether we’d be home in time for her to fall asleep before Santa came down our chimney.
By the time we arrived at Boston Commons, having spotted Santa mingling with children who’d also made the pilgrimage, my father plowed through a throng of people. He approached the red-suited fella, pointed to where we stood, and bent Santa’s ear long enough to persuade him to tell my sister he wouldn’t be taking off for the star-studded skies until much later. When it was her turn to tick off her wish list and tell him what a good girl she’d been all year, Santa allayed her fears and winked at my father.
*At this juncture in time when a pandemic modifies our holiday gathering plans, it’s more important than ever to haul out the holly, put up the tree, and make merry to create stardust memories.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Eva’s Byte #358 – Finding Balance
“…remember that life's a Great Balancing Act.” Dr. Seuss
Sure is! More so than ever, lately. Am I right?
I find it challenging to achieve mental balance while the heartbreak playing out on the world stage sabotages one’s inner peace and threatens one’s stability.
On the home front, I’ve resorted to distracting myself through spring cleaning. My recent foray inside a 5’x5’ storage closet off of my office demanded my attention to find balance. For years, I’d been storing several bins containing seasonal decorations on two top shelves which run the length of each wall. For someone with an intense fear of heights, climbing a step ladder to retrieve or return a weighty bin entails an awkward balancing act.
Duh!
Rearranging the entire closet, I double-stacked the storage bins on the carpet, and have plenty of clearance. It took me thirteen years to devise a better plan with my safety in mind.
In my capacity of a writer, I finished drafting Chapter 8 (1386 words) of my Contemporary work in progress, having balanced four scenes to mesh seamlessly. I’ve begun writing Chapter 9, wending my way past 120 words.
Finding balance is what writers are tasked with as each character vies for his/her due in their unfolding story.
*May each of us find balance for grounding ourselves as we weather life’s storms.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
Sure is! More so than ever, lately. Am I right?
I find it challenging to achieve mental balance while the heartbreak playing out on the world stage sabotages one’s inner peace and threatens one’s stability.
On the home front, I’ve resorted to distracting myself through spring cleaning. My recent foray inside a 5’x5’ storage closet off of my office demanded my attention to find balance. For years, I’d been storing several bins containing seasonal decorations on two top shelves which run the length of each wall. For someone with an intense fear of heights, climbing a step ladder to retrieve or return a weighty bin entails an awkward balancing act.
Duh!
Rearranging the entire closet, I double-stacked the storage bins on the carpet, and have plenty of clearance. It took me thirteen years to devise a better plan with my safety in mind.
In my capacity of a writer, I finished drafting Chapter 8 (1386 words) of my Contemporary work in progress, having balanced four scenes to mesh seamlessly. I’ve begun writing Chapter 9, wending my way past 120 words.
Finding balance is what writers are tasked with as each character vies for his/her due in their unfolding story.
*May each of us find balance for grounding ourselves as we weather life’s storms.
My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w
