R.L. Geer-Robbins's Blog, page 6

Tell me how you really feel.

6 minutes

Friends,

I am the first one to say that I glance at reviews and only take from them what I need for the next book. Some of them are amusing, others are heartwarming, and some help fuel my desire to keep going on this journey.

Each is appreciated because I know that most people don’t leave reviews, and an author’s whole livelihood is based on those pesky little stars.

It’s a complicated relationship, for sure.

Then there are the people who are darn right rude. People who use their ‘education’ or ‘background’ to flap their wings and yell ‘I’m better than you.’

Very rarely are they helpful, detailed, or informative. On purpose, I suppose.

Back Story.

I have entered my books into a couple of book contests. Most of them, I know that I have no chance of winning or even coming in the ‘runner-up’ category. Honestly, I don’t know why I entered. Let’s just say I love disappointment.

There were a few that I had my fingers crossed that I would at least make an impression. A lofty aspiration of gaining the attention of someone in this large world of indie authors.

In this particular contest, which I will not name, the bar was set high. You could only submit the first 3,000 words of your story and hope it wows the judges enough for them to think, ‘I need more.’

The judges.

This year, it is a panel of highly qualified, inspirational, motivated editors, writers, publishers, agents, screenwriters, and, well, the list goes on. Catching any of their interest would set me on a natural high for the next year. It would be like winning the Tour de France, landing a spot on the Olympic team for running, getting front-row seats at a Kevin Hart show, or finally meeting Jelly Roll and handing him my books.

It would be so big that I might not have to take my crazy pills for at least a week.

Before I even considered registering and paying the entry fee, I meticulously studied each of the judges. I delved into their backgrounds, examined their past and ongoing projects, noted who they had represented or who had represented them, and even crept through their social media profiles.

It was important for me to know who the judges were and if my labor of love would catch any of their attention.

That’s how important this contest was to me.

It’s a whole process.

I need you to know this: to enter a high-profile book contest- the application process takes a lot of time and effort. Not only do you need to decide what category you are applying for, but how you are going to present your book. You need to clean up your social media and make sure that you have no skeletons lurking in the dark.

You have to make sure that you spell caffeinated right for the first time.

And not put three ‘B’ in your name as I am adept at doing.

Your website needs to be classy and easily navigatable. The links better work. Your blogs must be on point, spell-checked, and not controversial. You need to have some type of following to even make it past the first round.

Only then may you start the process.

Running on coffee and hope

I spent three hours on my application—THREE HOURS. I started at 3 a.m. and barely finished by 6. It was so important that I turned my phone off and set it on the kitchen table so it couldn’t distract me.

I meticulously ran a spell check on all of my writing and verified that the formatting was flawless. I went over everything not once but twice and three times just to be absolutely certain. The cover was scrutinized, ensuring that it was free of any errors or imperfections and that it fit perfectly. My bio went through countless revisions, to the point where I lost count and had to start counting in multiples of 11.

I started sweating I was so nervous. I write in a ridiculously small niche of genres, and I know that I had an uphill battle. Everything had to be on point.

How many historical fantasy writers do you know? Not historical fiction. Historical fantasy.

Which is why I had to wow the judges out of the gate.

Then he came.

Granted, this reviewer is not a judge. While I will not discuss my Sherlock Holmes investigation results and what I found out about his writing career because it wouldn’t be classy of me—he did leave his review on a public forum, and I don’t feel bad about sharing it—I will just omit his name and profile picture.

Well, tell me how you really feel.

Granted, everyone is entitled to their opinions. And in most cases, I welcome them—if they are constructive and show that you actually read the submission (or book). This one hurt. Here’s why. Out of the 3,000 words, 1,200 of them were dialogue. The book is set in ancient Rome. Two different characters are introduced during two different time periods.

A little world-building is required.

Here’s the other thing. It’s my only comment.

My mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. Are the judges going to see this? Will their decision be swayed? Who is this guy, and how the hell did he find my submission? I haven’t even put the link in any of my social media channels.

Finally thoughts.

Hubby says don’t worry about it—it’s not the end of the world.

Doesn’t he know all my goals could come crashing down with this single comment? There goes my hope to be a New York Best Seller. I might as well pull the books now and lick my wounds.

Okay, maybe I am being a little dramatic. Opinions are just that—opinions. But it was a little harsh. No story? He thought I had no story? Ouch.

I have been sitting on this for a minute now and have decided to let it roll off my back into the blackness of the void. I will not let it get me down. Who cares?

Fingers crossed, the judges don’t feel the same way.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Tell me how you really feel. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Sweating bullets and dripping gold paint.

5 minutes

Friends,

I took half this week off to prepare for the upcoming Barnes & Noble signing this weekend. Although I am only slated for a two-hour block of time, those two hours have equated to 80 hours of behind-the-scenes work.

Particularly gilding the edges of the books. All 60 of them.

80 hours of sweating bullets and dripping gold paint.

I wanted to do something special to lure potential readers to my table, and nothing says ‘I’m cool’ like golden edges on a fantasy book. They add to the mystery and are eye-catching.

It says, ‘This author knows what they are doing.’

The back story.

Knowing that I had an uphill battle to regain the trust of readers that I was presenting to them a book that was well edited, formatted, and had a solid foundational plot line- I had to do something more.

When my book was hastily thrown into the wilds of the internet back in 2023- I failed on my different levels. Granted- not knowing I was failing- but failing nonetheless.

I had done my homework but I hadn’t stopped to really look at my book from the critical eye of the reader. I heard the book in my head but did not read what was written.

This is not a pity party. This is me learning a life lesson.

Intention doesn’t always equate to quality.

The good and the bad.

I pulled the books and did a rewrite. And now I am playing catch up. But hundreds of my unprofessionally edited books are swinging from the rafters, and I have to brace myself for the reviews.

And they are coming in.

Hot.

Unapologetic in their swift and deadly slashing of my labor of love.

Now, in all honesty, a few reviews for the improved versions are floating in like the first snowfall of winter- light and airy. And it’s helping to offset my broken heart. But it still hurts.

Sweating the details.

Knowing now that being an author is more than just writing a compelling story- I had to figure out how to brand myself. How to make my books and face known. Become a household name and someone people wanted to hear from.

Which meant I had to swallow my pride and start begging.

How many ‘No’s’ does it take to get a ‘Yes’? About a 1,000. Maybe 722 on a really good day.

Ironically, I am a historian- and in all my studies, research, and fact-finding missions- I already knew this. It’s not a new concept. No one ever gets to the top of the mountain without leaving a trail of blood behind them.

What I also knew but didn’t put into practice is that you have to give before you can take. Another great life lesson.

Dripping gold paint.

The ‘Yes’s’ are slowly coming in. I have emailed, shown up in person, sweet-talked, and begged enough that people are caving against my relentless attack.

I have no shame. My ego has been bruised enough that I don’t think it exists anymore. Being humbled at my age is an eye-opening experience.

That is where the gilded edges come into play. I owed it to myself and the readers to show that I care enough about their reading experience to make it better—bigger, brighter, and more engaging.

The time I spent bent over the kitchen table with a small paintbrush and a stack of awaiting books was a reminder that nothing in life comes easily.

Now, you might say that I am putting too much thought into my gilded edges and that it’s not worth it. The book is what it is, with or without the golden shimmer.

I argue that you are wrong.

Does an artist stop their masterpieces without the fine lines of details? Does a musician create music without the beat? Does a chef not add mouth-watering spices to their plates of well-prepared food?

Does an author not create a world for their readers for them to get lost in?

Setting a bar.

For now- this is my bar. I have set it high. Maybe unrealistically high. But until my name is sitting on the New York Best Sellers list and I have publishing companies pounding at my door- this is where I stand.

What started out as a hobby has now become a way of life. It has become a permanent goal on my whiteboard. Written in red with a permanent Sharpie pen.

Sunday, I am back to gilded edges. I have a couple more events this year that I have gotten ‘yes’ on—The Emerald City Romance Writers and Readers Event, an authors’ meet and greet at the Anacortes, WA public library, and an event at Village Book Indie Book Store in Fairhaven, WA.

They deserve just as much attention to detail as Barnes & Noble is getting from me.

Wish me luck, and I hope to see you all there!

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Sweating bullets and dripping gold paint. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Wasn’t expecting this… 2024 is full of surprises

5 minutes

Friends,

There are a couple of things that I had on my 2024 BINGO ‘oh shit’ card that seemed a little outrageous. But what I didn’t have on it was seeing a man running down I-5, butt ass naked, screaming, ‘Superman is alive.’

To some, that might be an everyday occurrence, but here in the PNW in June- that is a recipe for disaster. Not because there is inherent danger running down the freeway with no shoes on, but because winter is still not over for us… there was a real potential he might drown if he fell into a pothole.

I knew that 2024 was going to be a weird year when I figured out that not only was it a leap year, but there was going to be a total solar eclipse. The craziness was going to come in hot this year.

But going through the news, I found some stories that surprised even me.

COVID-19 made headlines again.

Experts are predicting that 2024 will be the year that researchers are finally going to crack the ‘code’ of long COVID. Which means, you guessed it, new vaccines. Will those be mandatory, too? Will another outbreak of riots and social division hit the mainstream social media platforms and divide this world more than it already is? Maybe. Who knows at this point? I didn’t know the Bear vs. Man conversation was going to make the top 5 stories on the news- but here we are.

New and improved.

Mosquitoes are being ‘modified’ in Brazil to carry a bacteria that will stop them from transmitting viruses. A nonprofit called the World Mosquito Program is running the 10-year program. Now, after living in Alaska, I have a deep-seated hatred for the flying dinosaurs, and I am scratching my head at why we aren’t just eradicating them. But who am I to play god on a winged bloodsucker that Moses apparently thought was important enough to our environmental balance that he brought them along for the ride?

Do you think the team can do something about them flying in swarms and landing on my smores?

Birthdays.

Facebook turns 20 this year. For something not old enough to buy cigarettes or alcohol, it has caused quite a stir in our modern-day ability to share news, thoughts, and controversy. How are we celebrating? Do we sing Happy Birthday? Is there cake? I have questions.

And if you thought that made you feel old, Amazon is turning 30. Yes, the company founded under the name Cadabra in 1994 has finally hit that pivotal moment in growth. The multi-million dollar business that we all love to hate but refuse to stop using because of its one-day delivery service is now middle-aged.

Now, for the record, I don’t hate Amazon. I am a busy woman, and it’s the only way that I can get chocolate-colored tablecloths, book stands, laundry detergent, and doggy treats without having to brave the craziness of Walmart.

Watch out, Disney.

Mickey is free game. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Disney has had Mickey on lockdown with copyrights. This has caused a lot of frustration with Tumbler, sweatshirt, and coffee mug designers because the mouse is iconic, and Disney was known for its cutthroat lawyers. But now, the beloved character will be on Etsy, TikTok, and Facebook marketplace shops, transformed from a favorite children’s cartoon to a ‘hip and edgy’ adult advertisement for beer, football teams, and political endorsement.

Did someone lose a head?

Did you hear about the human skull padlocked to a 15-pound dumbbell that was pulled out of a New Orleans waterway recently? The fisherman also found a handgun and a gun barrel. Police have no leads, but I’m seeing a Netflix documentary in the future.

Or an arm?

Finally, the one piece of news that has me scratching my head is that a 19th-century mummy lost its arm. No, you didn’t read that wrong. The National Institute of Anthropology and History in Guanajuato recently updated its exhibits, and one of the mummies’ arms fell off. The Mexican federal archaeology agency is pissed. They want the mummies because they are considered ‘national patrimony’. The museum doesn’t want to give them up because they are a profitable tourist attraction. A big legal battle has ensued.

If you thought that was bad- the reason they are in a museum is that in 1860, the families of the deceased couldn’t afford the burial fees, and the city took ownership. And THEN sent them on a world tour. No shit, they were here in the U.S. in 2009 as a cross-cultural exhibit.

I don’t know about you, but I stopped there. It was too much craziness for me on a Wednesday morning. Do me a favor- if you hear of anything else- let me know. I have a few spots open on my 2024 BINGO card of ‘Oh crap.’

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Wasn’t expecting this… 2024 is full of surprises appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Time is a fickle friend.

7 minutes

Friends,

It’s been a week. A very long week. And it’s only Tuesday.

I’m still trying to recover from last week’s physical and mental toll of trying to give 100% to everyone and everything. It was a week of learning that there is more to pile onto the plate, more to accomplish, and more to add to the list of ‘I haven’t gotten around to it.’

My list of household chores is a mile long, and no end in sight. My backyard is beginning to look like wheat fields, and I have had 6 pots of flowers for a week that still need to be planted.

Let’s not talk about the clothing situation. I am doing laundry at 3:00 A.M. to keep up.

Back story

Before I took on the added craziness of trying to become a world-famous author and be the support system for my hubby’s business—along with working two full-time jobs and raising a 16-year-old who is already in college—I had time.

I didn’t know that I had time.

The funny thing is, I look back on those days and think, ‘Those were the good old days,’ but I remember also thinking back then that my life was a roller coaster of ups and downs. I had just retired from the Army, and COVID hit. It didn’t affect Alaska like it did in the lower 48, so we were still moving and grooving, living our lives.

I traveled a lot, through the darkened alleyways of Alaska’s three highways and ferry systems to little-known towns that housed a whole city of service members.

I coordinated a host of events that required a logistical understanding of the postal system and a metric ton of food and games.

And, at that time, we were raising three boys—two who were in the midst of their teenage breakdowns and battling for supremacy. Anyone who has raised teenagers knows what I am talking about. It’s hard.

It started with a conversation

But then the VA put me on meds, and my brain cleared up a little, the shadows weren’t so dark anymore, and I felt like I could take on the world.

And then, we moved to the PNW.

I remember my hubby and I’s first anniversary in Washington. We didn’t know what to do. It was November, cold and wet, and we really didn’t think through how we were going to celebrate.

We ended up in Anacortes, which is a cute town, but on a Sunday afternoon, nothing is open but the grocery store and the Mexican restaurant.

We went for a small hike along the shoreline—less than a quarter mile—and talked about our frustrations about where we were in life.

Decisions were made

We were middle-aged, and both of us had just left our careers to make a change. At the time, Washington seemed like the best place to go.

It had to be less expensive than Alaska (wrong). The internet said it had plenty of jobs (wrong). And the housing market wasn’t that bad (laughable now).

We came here with a hope and a dream.

I would finally write and publish a book. Nick was finally back in the lower 48, so if he wanted to get back into the reptile world- honestly, nothing was stopping him.

We didn’t plan out anything. No one said, ‘This is our path,’ and shook hands.

We just expressed what we wanted to do.

Two roads, One household

Before I could blink, Nick and I were making moves.

We just forgot to tell each other.

That’s how our relationship works. It may seem absurd to other people—you might say a little insane—but for whatever reason, it works for us.

We jump on each other’s crazy train and hold on.

Everything grew and yet didn’t.

With impossible goals, Nick and I started making moves. Slowly at first and then gaining speed.

There have been a lot of potholes and redirections- but we kept chugging forward. I think more because we hate to sit still. Time is not our friend. It gives us time to think and remember.

Something neither one of us likes to do.

That’s the thing with shadows. They don’t ever go away, and you are forced to find a way to live with them. No amount of medication, therapy sessions, or walks can fully combat the memories.

You have to find a to keep them at bay long enough to stay functional.

Finding our tribes.

I won’t say that we are fully integrated into our new lives. We still dream of moving to a state where we can actually buy a house and retire.

A state that doesn’t threaten to tax you on ‘miles driven’ in your car or has cities that are safe to walk down without worrying about being robbed.

I don’t care who you are—if you live in a state where most people won’t travel outside of their county limits because they are fearful for their safety, then something is wrong. But that’s a conversation for another day.

In our journey to make a name for ourselves- we have found tribes.

I have slowly built up a network of friends who are writers. It’s not much- still in the single digits, but it’s my people. Nick has found a place in the reptile world and is constantly talking about new genes and scientific finds. Kekoa has made a name for himself at the college and is trying to build his network of fellow artists.

And we joined the Combat Veterans Motorcycle Association. A group of like-minded people who love riding and deal with the same things we do. It’s honestly been a relief, and I am thankful that we found them.

Your net worth is only as good as your network. That’s the motto we now live by.

We missed the mark.

This weekend was our slap across the face that building a network includes making plans and juggling schedules. A lesson on how to say ‘yes’ and plan accordingly.

We failed. An epic failure. A catastrophic mismanagement of time.

We ended up missing two events that we were really looking forward to—with friends. It was not by choice—life gets in the way—but it still hurt.

Time is a fickle friend. We thought we had enough of it. How could we not fit in everything in 48 hours? And sleep?

But time dedicded to fight back and we lost the battle.

Time. Years ago, I had too much of it. And now the days are flying by like an out-of-control train.

Final thought.

Soon, the clock will stop ticking, and I wonder if I did enough. Was I dedicated enough? Did I make the right decisions at the right moment to live my best life?

Or am I missing the mark? Some people say we should stop and smell the roses, breathe in the fresh air, and take in the wonders of the world.

And those same people tell you that you need to hustle to get ahead. That we must work harder, longer, and faster than everyone else. Because if we don’t – then we are not living up to the American dream.

I am so confused. Which one is it?

Is there a book I can read that will give me the answers? Or a podcast to listen to? A YouTube video with a checklist of how to live in the moment and still get ahead?

Crap- it’s 5 A.M., and I have to get ready to go to work. Busy, busy day ahead of me. I have my list. I can’t read anything on it- but I’m sure I will get it all done.

As soon as I switch the laundry. Can’t forget about that.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

From Scottish gods to the mystery of Medusa’s life and on to the European Witch Trials, the Raven Society is tasked with finding the truth in history’s inconsistencies. Hold your hats on this epic adventure to save lost souls from being forgotten.

The Writer and The Librarian (Book 1):

https://books2read.com/The-Writer-And-The-Librarian

Signed copies at:

https://rlgeerrobbins.com/product/the-writer-and-the-librarian-the-raven-society-book-1/

The Under Covers Bookstore (UK):

The Writer and the Librarian | The Under Covers (theundercoversbookstoreandcafe.com)

The post Time is a fickle friend. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Sales meetings and fireworks

7 minutes

Friends,

I’m not a big fan of fireworks. Chalk it up to living in an area of Alaska where the major holidays were either during the midnight sun season or -40. Either way, fireworks were not a ‘thing.’

Fine by me- I never knew what to say. We are using them to signify moments in history where the flaming balls of TNT were not colorful and picturesque- but the destruction of doom that left thousands withering in pain, limbless, or worse- dead.

But who am I to take away from the small pleasures of American society?

Bring on the boom.

Back story

Forgetting my personal detestation for tightly packed TNT in colorful paper- it’s a big seller here in the U.S. Two times a year- fireworks signified the importance of a major holiday.

The ringing in of a new year, another 365 days of survival.

And to highlight that the nation, at one point, was united in a common goal—our own form of government that was actually located within the boundaries of our country.

In other words, it is time to make a profit. In order to do that, you have to go to a sales meeting to learn the tricks and trades of ensuring maximum profitability while still playing into the nostalgia of childhood memories.

TNT equals profits

Did you know that fireworks are a big corporation-run business? I’m talking about a multi-million dollar ring of men and women wearing business suits, discussing profit margins, and trading on Wall Street.

According to the UN Comtrade Database, the U.S. imported 203.7 million kilograms of fireworks in 2022, and almost 99% of that came from China. To break it down into terms that count- $1.1 billion dollars worth of fireworks were exported around the world from China.

There are homegrown companies like Grucci, AM Pyro, and Xtreme that produce their own fireworks, but those are slated for shows that they are hired to put on, like the ones you see at Disneyland, Sea World, and Las Vegas fight nights.

Not public consumption.

Other countries are entering stage left—Germany (31.2 million), the Netherlands (30.5 million), and Poland (19.6 million) are the runner-ups to the impressive money pit.

It’s all about the sales

But I digress. Let’s get back to the meeting.

While we are all cringing at the numbers and our ancestors are rolling over in their graves over the fact that we are buying from the country that the U.S. government swears is spying on us. A country that we should avoid at all costs…the business of fireworks is good for non-profit organizations.

Order a set amount of fireworks and sign a contract that you will use a company’s business model and set-up, and non-profit organizations can make a pretty dollar to help support their goals.

I’m not hating on the fact that non-profits are using fireworks to offset the slowly dwindling donations as our country runs full speed into another major depression. I think it is wise. It’s thinking outside of the box and ensuring their mission is still able to function.

Sales equals money. Money equals buying power. Buying power means being able to help those less fortunate.

Fireworks stands are a lifestyle

As someone who works in the world of shows and expos- I have nothing but the utmost respect for those families and companies that ride the midnight train of profitability.

Each circuit is a unique blend of personalities and ambitions. I want you to imagine traveling circuses in the past. The performers were a close-knit family who spent years perfecting their craft and wowing the audience. They spent years traveling the country, breezing into small cities with all the bang of a well-planned New Year’s Eve celebration in New York City.

Those who work the fireworks stands are no different.

I had the pleasure of listening to two people who spent years perfecting their fireworks displays and sales pitches. They were passionate, knew their stuff, and were focused on safety and proper use of the small bombs. It was a family affair.

It is more than just nostalgia.

I have four pages of notes on bunting placement, the use of red, white, and blue pendants, how to properly display the American flag, and where to put the directional arrows so that unexpected buyers know where to go.

I learned how to climb on top of tents and stands safely so that the vertical placement of signs can be seen from at least a half mile away. Fire extinguisher placement and proper use of enter and exit doors were discussed in detail. We were warned what to expect when the fire marshall came to inspect our humble little stand.

I was sweating midway through the presentation because I was afraid I would fail the test on proper transportation requirements for boxes of TNT.

In other words- the class was no joke. At one point, it became a little nerve-wracking when we started talking about square transactions, the use of Apple Pay, and scammers that have stiffed poor non-profits of thousands of dollars.

Then I got uncomfortable.

Now, I need to reiterate—I am an expo girl. I travel a lot to different locations to sell my goods, from my son’s artwork to my books to the snakes and spiders that we lovingly raise.

I have no qualms about making money. No small business does. It’s how we survive. Unappolitgatically.

But even I can sometimes get a little uncomfortable in listening to big businesses’ sales pitches and how they expect ‘big profits’ from small stands.

This was an in-your-face sales pitch, a banging performance on what lures potential buyers in and lands big transactions. It was a fast and furious use of playing into society’s need to ‘out-do’ the neighbors with the best show.

The presenters even gave us tips on the best dollar store buys to entertain the children while the parents shopped with their oversized baskets that can hold up to 30 pounds of fireworks.

Is it worth it?

My hubby tells me that this is normal. And it’s true. Yes, while I am not particularly comfortable trying to talk someone into buying $100.00 worth of fireworks on the off-chance they may win a raffle for a $80.00 bundle package- there is nothing inherently wrong with the concept.

Sometimes, I get too caught up in history or assume what a person can or can not afford. I think I am protecting consumers’ bank accounts, but what I am really doing is judging people.

Who am I to think I know better? What do I bring to the table to chastise people from buying products from a country that social media and the news say to stay away from?

Hell, most of my clothes, decorations, and phones come from China.

Final thought.

Fireworks are a staple of America. It’s something to look forward to. And while yes, we are about to be bombarded with videos and complaints about dogs’ emotional well-being and never taking away from how veterans react to the explosions…

For the majority of Americans, this is something to look forward to. Parents get excited to do this for their children, and the children get worked up because there is magic in fireworks displays.

So, while I am not big on how the sales pitch was presented, I am excited about working in my first firework booth, surrounded by families and non-profits that are out there doing something for their community.

If you find a fireworks tent, stop by. Spend a few minutes shopping for the best displays. Ask the people what each one does- we have cheat sheets. Enjoy the upcoming 4th of July because, for one night, Americans will be united for a few minutes in the joy of tradition.

Well, at least until the morning when we realize we have to clean up after ourselves.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

Amazon: 

https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Target: 

The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

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A Netflix show on golf changed my perspective on mental health.

7 minutes

Friends,

I don’t watch golf. Never even played golf. It does not interest me.

Until now.

Now, I am researching golf clubs, swing techniques, and the difference between golf shoes and cleats.

Back story

Sunday afternoon was designated for me to try to catch up on the list of 17,238 things I need to do to prepare for the upcoming whirlwind of activities I scheduled for myself in June.

60 books need to be signed and their edges gilded for my upcoming authors signing event. I have the first-ever writers’ meeting at the Bellingham Barnes & Noble, and I haven’t done anything to prepare for it.

I still haven’t finished the laundry or cleaned the house.

Progress in the eye of the beholder.

With all the energy of a hibernating bear, I signed 60 books and started the process the gilding all the edges (only 50 more to go). But while I sat at the kitchen table, kicking myself in the ass for wanting to go above and beyond, I watched the ‘Full Swing’ series on Netflix.

A behind-the-scenes look at golf’s biggest players and apparently a very turbulent season full of up-and-comings, major failures, and a scandal that makes the Kardashian’s life look peaceful.

I had no idea what I was walking into.

You’re not getting my sympathy

I remember hearing something on the news a while back that the PGA was splitting up and that some overseas billionaire was luring players away from the age-old sport with promises of money, promotions, and glitter.

But what did I care? Another sportsperson was making a million dollars to stay in shape—what’s new? It’s just another slap in the face of hard-working Americans struggling to make ends meet in a world where we have to choose between gas and food.

Honestly, you weren’t going to make me feel bad for getting paid to hit a plastic ball with a metal stick.

Reflection

Now, in full disclosure- I still don’t feel bad for the players; I gained empathy for them.

I didn’t know the start of another league was going to tear the sport apart at the seams. I didn’t know that friendships were going to be tested and that bad feelings were going to darken the skies of tournaments.

How was it any different than the different leagues of football, baseball, or hockey?

But listening to the players who either stayed with the PGA or jumped ship to join the LIV circuit, this was a test of loyalty and integrity. This was a look into the complexities of human nature.

Do you stay loyal to a corporation that is slowly dying but has generations of tradition and history, or do you read the room and go to a company that promises financial security for your family?

It is more than just a game.

To the players, golf is more than just a Sunday afternoon trip to an over-manicured pasture. It is a way of life, a job, the very essence of who they are as people.

Without the golf clubs, caddies, and clubhouses, they are just another person—a nobody, a faceless wanderer at the local WalMart trying to find the best deals on toothpaste, washcloths, and diapers.

Without golf they couldn’t afford to charge their overpriced electric vehicles.

I stopped to listen.

What I learned when I stopped to listen to the golfers was life-altering when applied to my own ambitions, goals, and aspirations.

Suddenly, I wasn’t rolling my eyes at their retelling of bad games, off days, and game-day clothing decisions. I listened to their frustrations, doubts, and mental struggles to be the best. I nodded my head when they talked about balancing family life with social expectations and endless hours of trying to become better.

I paused when they talked about their mental health. Who am I to ever judge when someone says they are struggling with shadows?

Mental health is not a competition.

I struggle with my mental health. There are days that it throws me into a spiral of doubt, lack of self-worth, and some really dark moments where I don’t know if I will ever emerge.

The one thing I hate is when people compare mental health struggles. I don’t use the word ‘hate’ lightly. I mean it with all my heart- I HATE it when people put a label on who is allowed to suffer and who is not.

It’s a thing with service members. If you didn’t serve in this branch, fight in this battle, or deploy at this time- then you don’t have PTSD, anxiety, or survivor’s guilt- you’re an imposter.

As a female combat veteran- this is very personal for me because I am judged more times than not, not on my military career but on the fact that I have boobs. I am lesser because of my gender. I can’t share my experiences because of preconceived notions that women didn’t experience war like men do.

Unfortunately, I did the one thing that I promised myself I would never do- I judged sports players because they weren’t on the same ‘level’ as me.

Balancing acts.

Life is a balancing act when you decide to enter a world where other people’s opinions of you are based solely on what you can provide for them.

Golfers, small business owners, and authors—we are the same. We have to play into the hands of the consumers to get ahead. We need people to like us, cheer for us, and say our names to get the brand deals, promotions, and money to support our families.

In my case- get on the New York Best Sellers list.

The need to be well-rounded, respectful, unique, spicy, and ‘available’ not only to the public but also to our families and our profession can be a 27-hour-a-day job.

And one of the first things to falter under all the pressure is our mental health.

Nobody deserves that.

Final thought.

I don’t know that you will ever find me on a golf course. I don’t have the time to devote 4 hours to 18 rounds of golf (or however you say it). You will never find me spending a Saturday watching 10 hours of a golf tournament on the sports channel.

But I will start watching the highlights. And I will stop complaining that players have nothing to bitch about, living in million-dollar homes with personal chefs.

This is the reason why. Because they worked their asses off to get there. It isn’t their fault that people around the world have collectively decided that their god-given abilities are worth that much. They are playing the game. Wisely. With heart, passion, and the desire to have their names remembered.

How is that any different than me?

These players did something else. Not knowing that there would ever be a middle-aged woman sitting at a kitchen table with a list mile-long of things to do- they inspired me. I’m not the only one struggling with trying to be better at something I am good at.

Not everyone can be a PGA champion, just like not everyone can be a best-seller author. It takes a lot of patience, being humble, and not giving up to get to the top of our career fields. And maybe even then, we won’t make it.

But there is pride in the journey.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

Amazon: 

https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Target: 

The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

The post A Netflix show on golf changed my perspective on mental health. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Black American Flag & it’s meaning

8 minutes

Friends,

There has been an increase in social media and news outlets showcasing law-abiding citizens taking down the American Flag and replacing it with a blacked-out version.

And people are reacting.

Now before you go any further, let me warn you that this blog is written with a clear head, fully aware that some readers might find it uncomfortable or disingenuous.

I assure you it is neither. I have some unique qualifiers that allow me to have not just an opinion- but the background to find the truth and an explanation.

I have fought for this country. I have bled for this country. My family has sacrificed for this country. And now I bear the scars of 20-plus years, both visible and invisible.

That- and I am a historian.

What is going on?

Unless you have been living under a rock, refuse to watch the news, or have 0 social media platforms- you know that there have been countless videos and pictures of Americans swapping out the Red, White, and Blue for a blacked-out version of the flag.

Usually accompanied by a patriotic song to invoke a feeling of standing against ‘the man’ and standing with the fundamental belief systems of how a government should be run.

Back Story.

Let’s talk about single-color flags. We all know one particular color flag has been displayed throughout the generations during a time of war.

The White Flag. Used to symbolize surrender. Fly the white flag, and in theory, peace between the warring parties should stop and peace talks ensue.

But what about other flags used during wars? We often forget about the Blood Flag.

A pattern-free red flag was the nautical symbol in European waters to signify the intention that the crew was ready to fight and that no quarter would be given to the other party. In other words- no prisoners would be taken. Reading between the lines- this was a battle to the death.

The Viking Age (750 – 1200 AD) used painted shields in their travels by sea.

The 1290s saw the first use of the Blood Flag (or, in that case, a streamer), used as an intention of battle.

In 1647- the Blood Flag was a prominent part of Royal Navy instructions to their crews.

[a]s soon as the Admiral shall hoist a Red Flag on the flagg staff at the fore- top – mast – head, and fire again, every Ship in the fleet is to use their utmost Endeavour to engage the enemy in Order the Admiral has prescribed to them

Now in full discloser- by the time the American Revolution rolls around- mostly only pirates are using it.

From Red to Black.

When did the flag change colors?

As much as most people don’t want to know, the first historical records date from the 1800s and were used mostly by ‘Anarchists.’

I say this word loosely because there is a reason behind the methodology. For some background, we have to travel to France, home of the revolutionists.

First use.

In the 1830s, there were a series of revolts in France over silk production. A bad economy and a drop in silk prices put many people out of work and on the brink of starvation. The workers demanded that a minimum price be imposed on all silk, and the government (surprise, surprise) said no. What ensued was three different revolutions in 1831, 1834, and 1848.

The 1843 revolt was a bloodbath, and 10,000 Frenchmen were either deported or imprisoned by the government.

The flag was flown in 1831 as a symbol of the morning of liberty lost. This is a key phrase. Remember it because we will circle back.

Anarchists use the Black Flag.

Just a few short years later, a woman by the name of Louise Michel, flew the Black Flag on 9 March 1883. She participated in the Paris Commune- which was a revolutionary government that seized power in Paris from 18 March – 28 May 1871.

What were they protesting?

To make a long story short- the haves vs. the have-nots.

During their very short reign, they made some changes.

The Commune governed Paris for two months, establishing policies that tended toward a progressive, anti-religious system of their own self-styled socialism, which was an eclectic mix of many 19th-century schools. These policies included the separation of church and state, self-policing, the remission of rent, the abolition of child labor, and the right of employees to take over an enterprise deserted by its owner. All Roman Catholic churches and schools were closed.

Other countries use of it.

During the Russian Revolution, Nestor Makhno’s partisans became famous for their rebellious actions. Under the banner of the Black Flag, his army successfully kept a large portion of Ukraine free from centralized power for several years. Their flag bore the phrases “Liberty or Death” and “The Land to the Peasant, The Factories to the Workers.”

Emiliano Zapata, a Mexican revolutionary, also utilized a black flag adorned with symbols such as a skull and crossbones and the Virgin Mary, along with the slogan “Land & Liberty.”

In 1925, Japanese anarchists formed the Black Youth League, and when the federation reformed in 1945, their publication was named Kurohata.

Is there a law against using it in the U.S.?

Is the flag itself illegal? No.

Is the theory of ‘No quarter given’ illegal?

Technically? Yes.

Now, this is where the argument of its use dates back to the Civil War comes into play. The practice was banned in 1863- created by Franz Lieber and enacted by President Lincoln.

It was in response to Union soldiers trying to take revenge against the Confederates. The Leiber code ensured that all Confederate sympathizer’s lives would be spared.

The Department of Defense Law of War Manual: “It is prohibited to order that legitimate offers of surrender will be refused or that detainees, such as unprivileged belligerents, will be summarily executed. Moreover, it is also prohibited to conduct hostilities on the basis that there shall be no survivors.”

So why now?

Why is the Black Flag making a comeback here in the U.S.?

This is my own theory. No one else’s.

Because the government is in a shambles. Left, Right, Middle… it doesn’t matter. We are all engaged in a political war of ideology.

Most Americans do not believe in the destruction of private property. Most Americans don’t have the time to spend weeks camped out on a college campus to protest a war in another country. Hell, most Americans don’t have the time to leave work to vote.

Law-abiding Americans feel trapped. They watch the country disintegrate as those in Washington, D.C., fling insults at each other about false eyelashes and bleached blond hair. Our congress representatives don’t know the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day. From one month to the next, all we hear about is how one political leader is trying to oust another because ‘they didn’t do what I wanted them to.’

Hell, most Americans don’t either- but that’s a blog for another day.

The trial of the century.

Whether you want to admit it or not, President Trump’s recent trial WAS the trial of the century.

All of America was watching to see how it would play out. And how our government would react.

And instead of staying neutral- we watched as it became a political battleground to gain votes.

Lift, Right, or middle—you must admit that I am right. Protestors, supporters, political leaders, and even ‘celebrities’ came out to use it to gain votes for the upcoming election.

Not to ensure that the law was used as intended.

And then starts the silent protest.

For years now, we Americans have watched as the state and the country’s capital were overrun by protestors. We looked on with horror as city blocks were destroyed and looted.

Small businesses failed, families went bankrupt, and corporate businesses were given a handout. Homes were lost, and rent skyrocketed. College students took out loans for a piece of paper that the ‘American Dream’ told them they had to have, and then we hit a depression, and they couldn’t pay back the high-interest rate.

Retirement and social security became a joke.

This is a lot for any citizen to walk through silently.

So, some people are choosing to use the Black Flag as a symbol of their need for change.

Final thought.

I honestly don’t believe that Americans are going to go wild, wild, west on the government. Not in a gun-flinging, sting-them-up kind of way.

Just as you probably applauded the revolts in other countries, you must give way to what is happening in this country right now.

Whatever side of the political battlefield you stand on, this is a ‘civil war’ of thought, morale, and belief systems. We may not be pointing guns at each other, but we are, in fact, drawing the line in the sand of what is personally acceptable and what is not.

There is a great divide in our country. And the Black Flag is being flown, to some, in solidarity with ensuring that this country finds its roots. And might I add, it’s being used on ALL sides of the political battleground.

If you are willing to support the protests of one group, the burning of the American flag by another, and the looting and burning of our neighborhoods- then honestly, you don’t have a leg to stand on of being upset. We, collectively, as a country, created the monster that we are now fighting.

Unfortunately, we are in a society where you must now choose a side. Faith in our government has been shattered, and there is a bleak road ahead of us.

I don’t know what the answer is- but at least I did my part to share with you the real history of the Black Flag. I invite you to do your own research and decide for yourself if it is anti-American or not.

The choice is yours.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

Amazon: 

https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Target: 

The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

The post Black American Flag & it’s meaning appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Self-imposed roadblocks to motivation.

6 minutes

Friends,

There is something that I have to be able to do to get me out of this funk.

I am losing my mind.

All the answers are in front of me but I can’t make a decision to save my life.

Back Story.

A couple of months ago, I hurt my back. Nothing big. Just couldn’t walk, sit, run, sleep, or brush my teeth without pain.

You know- old people’s problems.

But that was my excuse to stop working out. I canceled my membership to the way too-expensive iFit program and started using my treadmill as a coat rack for my motorcycle gear.

Besides, I needed to use the three hours in the morning to work on promotions—scrolling endlessly through social media and sharing my books with countless potential readers.

It was easy to justify because my back hurt, and the garage was cold. However, I refuse to get a gym membership because the time frame doesn’t work with my requirement to be at work by 7:00 a.m. and not getting home until 4:00 p.m. to make dinner.

It was easy to lose my motivation.

Oreos, Coffee, and Netflix.

The Oreos and hot cocoa have caught up to me. I can feel the fat cells expand. My muscles are getting weak and stiff. My brain is not functioning on all cylinders. Sleep is awkward because I can feel the fat rolls when I turn over. My arms are saggy, and I am beginning to see the double chin forming.

My knees hurt.

I just don’t feel good about myself.

I can’t even find a hairstyle that I like, so it hangs like a limp tree branch until I can’t take it anymore and put it up in a not-so-flattering messy bun. You know it’s bad when your hair is also being lazy.

I was flipping through Netflix last night trying to find something to watch, and I can honestly say that I have watched everything the channel has to offer. That’s how much time I spend on my couch.

The bank account says otherwise.

I blame it on the fact that I haven’t won the lottery and my books haven’t taken off.

The bank account says I can’t quit my job.

Have you seen the cost of trying to join a yoga session or a spin class? $20.00 for one visit. Who in the hell has that kind of money nowadays?

I get all motivated to go to a class and spend hours researching the times, only to find out that classes are offered between 7 a.m. and 4 p.m. This is not really all that helpful with my work schedule. I get it- instructors don’t want to get up at the crack of dawn to guide middle-aged adults through a series of downward dogs and deep breathing.

I know I wouldn’t.

What a horrible excuse I have given myself to give up. Even I can hear how dumb it sounds.

I need inspiration.

The rest of my family is active: line dancing, bike riding, hot yoga, long walks, and exploring new cities, breathing in the fresh air.

By 7:15 p.m., I am sneaking my way to the bedroom to lie down and read. Sometimes, I will take a bath and read just to force myself to stay awake until 8:00 p.m.

It’s not depression. At least, I don’t think it is. I’m on meds. So, in theory, I shouldn’t be depressed. I just lost my motivation to be the hype girl in getting out of the house. Unless it’s to go out to dinner- then I’m your girl.

No end in sight.

It’s 4:00 am, and I am trying to devise a plan to add physical movement to my schedule. But I’m hitting my own self-imposed roadblocks. I am dosing my motivation in a bucket of ice water.

I have a list of tasks to tackle: studying Eastern European mythology, brainstorming new promotions, crafting compelling blog posts, responding to emails, and reaching out to potential bookstores.

Your net worth is only as good as your network. I used to love that saying, but now I rue the day I first heard it.

You see what I’m saying? I have created the tidal wave of excuses that are a downward spiral of ‘I can’t’ instead of ‘why not’.

Solutions.

There are things I can do. I have a post-it note of ideas. Goals. Aspirations. Checklists. Motivation.

My work has a gym—literally 20 feet from my office—and they give me an hour to work out every day. I could, in theory, take gym clothes and spend the last hour of the workday on the treadmill or lifting weights.

It is in my job offer- so it’s not like I’m cheating the system.

I might try it today rather than waiting until Monday to ‘start a new chapter.’ I’ve been waiting for Monday for the last three months.

Oh, the evulsive Monday. Why does it come around once a week for everything else BUT for the things we want to do for ourselves? That is the mystery of life. Along with taxes.

Conclusion

I might just pack that bag. It’s not like I need a lot. I wear sweatshirts and tennis shoes to work every day anyway, so I can just slip on a pair of yoga pants and be ready in 5 minutes.

This is the third time this year I have made a promise to be better about my health. I want to lose weight, build muscle (not fat), and do something so I feel better in my own body and stop looking in the mirror and cringing.

Do you think it will stick this time? They say the third time is a charm.

I don’t know. My motivation is saying that I am being too ambitious.

What the hell, I’m going to try. What’s the worst that can happen?

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

Amazon: 

https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Target: 

The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

The post Self-imposed roadblocks to motivation. appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Rain with a chance of more rain

1 minute

Friends,

It’s raining again.

Why this is surprising to me is a mystery. I live in the PNW. In a state known for being eternally green. What no one mentions is that the green is so brilliant because the backdrop of the grey skies matches the mood of the people.

I feel like our mock winter has lasted for years, and there is no end in sight.

Just more rain in the forecast.

Seasonal Depression is in full effect.

I’m not alone.

Ironically, most people around the world deal with seasonal depression. Well, at least anyone who has decided to lay roots in an area that experiences the four seasons.

Winter, Pollen Season, Summer, Mock Winter.

For six months a year, we live in total grey intermixed with snow storms. No sunlight. No grand expeditions to explore the unknown or leisurely picnics by the river. There’s no need for suntan lotion or fashionable sunglasses. Hell, Walmart doesn’t even sell ‘summer’ clothing until closer to July.

It would be a waste. We are all just looking for the newest rain jacket, warm coffee, and a new Netflix series to binge-watch.

Rain equals money.

I have decided I have learned the key to living in Washington.

You have to be rich.

Like Richey Rich.

Because the only damn thing to do here is shop.

Everywhere I look, everything revolves around shopping. It’s raining outside? Go to the mall to get your steps in.

Cloudy and drizzling? Go to the cute little towns and walk around the shops that all display overpriced specialty clothing or imported wool from halfway around the world.

Grey with the possibility of rain? Go to the local brewery.

Tourists who can afford to come to Washington love it. They walk away with all kinds of Bigfoot souvenirs and new candles. They take the ferry across to the islands and find the slow way of life ‘cute’ and ‘endearing.’ In the middle of summer, they have a reason to cozy up to the fireplace and drink hot cocoa.

Tourists never pick up on the fact that the reason it’s ‘slow’ is because the locals are refusing to leave their homes.

Not that I am hating on tourists. All my adult life, I have lived somewhere in the world that relies on ‘tourist season’ to survive. So bring them on.

It’s just nothing I can afford. Nor can I escape.

Unfortunately.

World’s most expensive paperweight

Here’s the real reason why I am complaining.

I just bought the world’s most expensive paperweight.

My 2023 Heritage (Harley) is sitting in my garage, just begging to be let out onto the open roads. It is yelling at me to do more than start its engine. It wants to be put into gear and released into the wild.

But I can’t. Not with the eternal soft rain of the PNW. Not with drivers not sure if they are turning on the windshield wipers or telling Jesus to ‘take the wheel.’

It’s not safe. Not to mention, there are so many potholes covered in water that with one wrong move, my bike is on the ground, and I am swimming to safety.

I need inspiration

The hard part of being a writer in a household of artistic people (my son paints, and my hubby is learning how to tattoo) is that we need inspiration.

We need to go out into the public and interact with other people. We need to overhear conversations, see what other people are creating, and talk to anyone other than each other.

Hell, I’m a writer, and I’m having a hard time coming up with something to blog about. Which is ironic because I write fantasy. Which means I’m great at making shit up. You would think I could come up with something!

But no. My days are limited to home, work, and an occasional trip to the grocery store. Even the conversations at home have become grey and predictable.

Unless it’s about the rain. We can talk for hours about rain.

No end in sight

Is there any end in sight for us poor, soaked members of the PNW? Sure. I have a lot of things planned for June. My mother’s retirement party. I am hosting the very first writers meeting at the Bellingham Barnes and Noble, and then the following weekend, I am doing an author’s event there.

My son will be finishing his first year at the college this June and I want to take him out to dinner to celebrate the achievement. For only being 16- this is a big deal.

I think somewhere in this, we are going to dinner with some friends who are also in the reptile world- so that should be fun.

But you know what I didn’t mention? Riding my bike.

Riding = happiness

My motorcycle is among the top three things that make me happy, right behind a good cup of coffee and a good day of sales for my books.

It allows me to hit the open road with fresh air on my face, music in my ear, and not have to talk to anyone as I explore the hidden gems of backcountry roads.

Just me and my thoughts for mile after mile, blowing away the cobwebs of my past and making room for the potential of tomorrow.

Without the roar of the exhaust and the zoom zoom of passing people on the highways, my demons are able to catch up with me. That’s never good. My shrink went on vacation to escape the grey skies and never-ending tears of the gods, so I can’t rely on her to up my medication levels.

Conclusion

When the seasonal depression hits us hard, what do we do? We vent! I share my frustration on my blog.

And, of course, we take advantage of Amazon’s sales and buy a happy light because the gods know that the four I currently own are not hitting the mark.

Then we pray the weatherman got it wrong.

So, my friends, if you live somewhere that has already been visited by that big, beautiful, red star in the sky we call the sun, can you send me a picture?

I wrote her a letter to ask her to come visit, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

Amazon: 

https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Target: 

The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

The post Rain with a chance of more rain appeared first on R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author.

Another Reptile Expo, Another Story- The Furry Community

8 minutes

Friends,

Another reptile expo, another story. The hubby is now used to me jotting down notes at shows because he knows there will probably be a blog. I think he’s finally over the embarrassment of knowing I’m a writer and will record, reuse, and regurgitate material I find while wandering the mean streets of the Pacific Northwest.

And this weekend was no different.

Back story

As many of you know or have figured out on your own, my hubby owns a reptile business. What started out as a casual conversation two years ago about getting a snake has led to me harboring 67 of these no-legged, no-arm beasts. Throw in a couple of colorful and deadly spiders, a blind bearded dragon, my Kool Kat Kona Bear (the dog), and my 1200-square-foot home has become a reptile zoo.

At some point, babies do come into existence, and we travel around the PNW, finding them their forever homes. Which means we headed to another reptile expo, and I have another story to tell you.

Where to start

This time, we traveled the choppy waterways of Puget Sound, riding the Washington State Ferry system on a floating city that can hold up to 186 vehicles.

Not my idea of a good time.

It’s not that I don’t trust the whole concept of lowest bidders for maintenance, repairs, and upgrades, but ferries have always seemed somewhat ‘fishy’ to me—no pun intended.

Think about it. It’s a lot of vehicles stacked up on top of each other for a jaunt across the open seas. Two levels of cars, trucks, moving vans, Amazon and FedEx trucks, and a sprinkle of motorcycles—all vying for a spot in an area the size of a small home.

That’s not including the people, dogs, cats, and, in my case, a truck full of exotic animals.

I get nervous every time I get on one.

But I digress. We made the 30-minute crossing safe and sound and were across the murky waters before seasickness could settle in.

Show time

I will bypass the normal overview of what it takes to set up, price, and mentally prepare for another show and dive right into the people. This show took us to the small seaside town of Bremerton, WA, a place known for its military presence, Valentinetti Puppet Museum, and… well, it has a fantastic waffle restaurant.

Not much else is going on in town, but a lot of tourists seem to want to visit it. I found it interesting that the mall was connected to a grocery store. It’s not something that you see every day, but seeing as I live in a town that doesn’t have a mall, it was cool to walk through the aisles.

Small town, big sales.

This means that even for a small seaside town, we had a good chance of attracting a large turnout. There wasn’t much else going on. I heard there was a Viking festival, but I couldn’t find it.

Disappointing! Who doesn’t want to spend an evening at a Viking festival?

It was a very successful reptile expo for us. The Kitsap Sun Pavilion is a smaller venue with fewer vendors and more customers. Because it was spaced out and quiet, we had the time to talk to new reptile owners and explain what it takes to own a snake, spider, or iguana.

It was awesome! People left our table feeling confident that they knew what they were doing and that they could contact us with any questions or concerns.

Usually by way of text messaging 20 minutes after they get back home.

Which honestly, makes us feel better because there are typically photos involved. And we love talking to people – so it’s a win-win.

The people.

Reptile shows attract a wide array of people, from the wealthy to the free-spirited. At any given time, we can have anyone at our table—lawyers, doctors, high school students, construction workers, dental hygienists, and exhausted parents with three toddlers.

My favorite is kids under 12 who still have the pure joy of seeing animals up close and personal that they typically won’t find in the neighborhood pet store. Kids are the best!

Except for the ones who tap the glass like they are in a Harry Potter movie and waiting for an invitation to Hogwarts.

Those aren’t my favorites.

Furry Community

I am all about people expressing themselves. Be you authentically. Dress up as a pirate, Tinkerbell, Strawberry Shortcake, and everything in between. It’s a reptile show, for Pete’s sake. We all straddle the line of insanity.

But what is challenging for me, even if I support freedom of expression, is the furry community. Men, women, and children in full-on costumes channeling their inner animals. Anywhere from lions, bears, and tigers (oh my!).

And these are not your typical Halloween costumes with tails and ears. No, they are people who take their inner beasts and humanize them with extreme outfits, masks, and eyelashes.

When I say masks, I mean slip-on 5-pound masks that completely hide the person’s identity behind the fake fangs.

It’s not the person

I’m sure that the person behind the character is a great person. Fun-loving, creative, and well-rounded people who rarely get to venture out in person to a place that accepts them for who they are.

My problem is that I don’t understand them.

Not metaphorically.

I mean, I can’t actually understand them.

Their masks are so large that they muffle their voices, and I can’t hear what the hell they are saying.

When they dance over to my table, I groan internally. I know that I am about to play a weird game of charades, trying to figure out what snake or spider they are pointing to because we are not about to have a meaningful conversation.

Talk about the potential for miscommunication. Which is NOT good at a reptile expo.

It’s the hands. (Paws?)

Most furries go full out, and I mean full out. Not only am I competing with the muffled voices of a person behind the igloo-sized mask, but they wear paws—black bear-size paws, complete with fake claws, sometimes even painted a lovely shade of blood red.

Not scary at all.

Try having a paw reaching over the table to take a business card. I dare you. I don’t know if I should run or play along. My fight-or-flight instincts are on high alert, and I start sweating. Where do I put the card? Their hands can’t close! Do I slip it in between the ‘fingers?’ Do I slide it up their shirt sleeves?

I am so confused.

Nope- it’s the Furry mask.

Here’s the thing. Once again, I am not being rude or malice to anyone who can spend hours dancing around a hot venue in a 15-pound costume. I give you props, but I don’t know who the hell you are.

Without being able to see your eyes, I can’t determine if you have the best intentions for my snakes. And I don’t know if you fully comprehend the lengthy list of instructions for properly caring for my noodles of fangs.

On top of that, are you even old enough to buy a reptile? For all I know, you are a 12-year-old who stole your mom’s credit card and is about to max it out. I might end up sued for an illegal transaction because you won’t take your mask off so I can verify your driver’s license with your face.

I’m pretty sure that the judge will throw my ass in jail for not being diligent in my transactions- not the furries.

So what do I do?

Don’t judge me, but I try not to make eye contact—not that there are eyes to make contact with. All I can see are huge fake eyes with a small sliver of an opening that I assume the wearer looks out of.

Moreover, I cannot meet the energy of people masquerading as their inner child. The furries I met this weekend tended to dance more than walk. They jumped to show their excitement. There were a lot of growls and purrs that I didn’t know how to respond to.

Do I growl back? Or is it a sign of displeasure? Do I meet purr for purr?

So many questions. Not that I could ask the ‘do’s’ and ‘don’t’s’.

I couldn’t understand them.

The mask got in the way.

Conclusion

I love that at every show, I meet new people and experience various ways of life. It keeps life interesting for me. I might not always understand, and sometimes I don’t agree, but for the most part, it is a taste of another world I might not have seen otherwise.

Will I ever try to be a furry or join the furry community? Absolutely not. I’m a middle-aged woman on the cusp of menopause. Walking around in a 30-pound mask with little slots of air flow doesn’t seem like my idea of a good time. But I support those who do.

I just ask that when conducting a business transaction, maybe take the mask off. Please?

Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.

If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. A historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman who must choose between accepting what is written in history books or seeking out the truth behind the tales. Limited edition copies are now available on my website

Signed Copy of The Writer and the Librarian (Book 1) – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com)

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https://a.co/d/flQhakX

Barnes and Noble: 

The Writer and the Librarian by Rose Geer-Robbins, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

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The Writer And The Librarian – (the Raven Society) By R L Geer-robbins (paperback)

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