Kathryn Magendie's Blog: Lonely Woman's Guide to the Galaxy, page 15

This old marriage thang: When Kat has the little log house to herse'f

GMR just returned from a trip to South Louisiana--Baton Rouge & Paulina--where he visited with friends from his high school days at Fortier HS in New Orleans, and even more important, where he saw for the first time his son's new baby Ian Paul. Now between us we have four grandkids!

I wasn't able to go on this trip, and while here alone, I notice how without GMR goading/reminding me to eat (or to cook it himself *haw*) I do not do so well with eating "right." In fact, I was watching OWN's Super Skinny vs Super Size and when the doctor told one of the young women she was eating an amount a four year old would eat, I noticed it looked more than I'd had - lawd!

Mostly, I ate sandwiches, followed by baked potato, followed by canned soup/tuna. In other words, the quickest crap I could pull together. Now, less you think I ate unhealthy crapadoodle-doodoo; I really did not, for I had yogurt and lots-o-fruit and such. But, I just do not eat enough or a variety of foods when left to my own devices.

While he is gone the house stays spotless. He's going to read this and go, "Hey!" and give me one of his looks of disbelief and woebegonity and all that jazz. But it is true. I clean the house the day he leaves and it stays the same until he returns when all hell breaks loose. Quit looking at me like that GMR. It's true.

On the flipside, he does his own laundry (but hey, so do I, just sayin!), and there are things that I don't have to do because he most all the time does them first: empties the dehumidifiers, puts out and takes in the bird feeders and such and all, cooks real food, puts gas in my car, "makes groceries." That's another thing—when he isn't here I become completely reclusive. I mean more than usual. I will walk the dogs in the cove, but my car does not move from its spot the entire time he's gone unless there is some really important reason for me to leave—and not having any real food in the house wouldn't be one of them, for I'd just find some sumpin to throw on a plate.

He returned last night, and already this morning he is itching to go to The Grocery. He calls it "the grocery" – I hear that in New Orleans people a lot. "I'm going to The Grocery now." When I wrote "going to grocery" in my novel(s), a beta reader said, "don't you mean "to the grocery store?" Naw. Just to The Grocery, or to Make Groceries, because I am honoring GMR and his late momma, who also said "zink" instead of "sink."

While he is gone, I have the entire bed to myself. Thing is, I really only put a foot or arm over there every so often just because I can, but mainly I am so used to being scrunched on one side I sleep like that even when he's gone. But, it's the IDEA that I have the entire bed to myself where if I wanted to wallow around and toss about and flail and spread out by golly gee I could!

One morning I was late with the squirrel feeder seed and the bird seed. I slept in until almost eight—yeah "slept in" means different things at different ages, huhn—so, this bird kept screeching outside my window, "GET UP! GET UP! GET YOUR LAZY ARSE UP!" I stumbled to turn on the coffee, and in my robe and slippers, went out to feed the critters. There was a little red squirrel sitting on top of the sunflower seed can, eyeing me pitifully as if to say, "YOU LAZY ARSE! FEED ME FEED ME!" He jumped to the side when I opened the can, and then proceeded to hang on the edge, looking down into the can in a, "Hurry it up, woman," I said, "Well, geez, give me a chance . . ." Then he followed me across the railing as I deposited King Squirrel's breakfast upon its throne. Geez. It looked at me as if to say, "GMR would NEVER sleep in. He delivers our victuals promptly."

GMR says I never miss him while he's gone. That's not true, but it sort of kind of is true (oh oh, he's going to read this and get that look!). I love GMR, but I am a creature who must have her Space. I must have alone time. I require being Very Very Much Completely Alone, and I do not have that often because GMR is always here (that look again). So, when he goes to Louisiana, I kinda sorta don't miss him but instead revel in my complete aloneness—unless I have a nightmare, then I am lying in the dark going, "Wish GMR were here. Dang. Sure is dark. Dang. That nightmare skeered the beejeezuz out of me. Dang." But when morning shines, I'm all, "Aw, who needs GMR? I got this."

Right now, I'm feeling like that squirrel. GMR is going to The Grocery to make groceries (sometimes pronounced "Grot'tries") and I am sitting on the edge of the feedcan looking down going, "Hurry up! Whoop! Where's my food? Hurry hurry!" So, I guess he's okay to have around and all—you know, at night when I have a nightmare, and when I should be eating regular meals that consist of something cooked hot and steamy on the stove. I suppose it's okay to have someone to go, "Did you see that? Omg! Hahahaha! That was funny!" or "Did you hear that? I can't believe he/she said that! Omg!"  or "Hey, I'm hungry."

I guess this old marriage thing has its purposes.

(photos by Kat, friend, or purchased from istock)

Photos, Peanuts Comic, Video of breezy cove day . . . no words

summer issue of Rose & Thorn

Linky Love for writers, authors, readers

Here are a few places here and there I thought I'd share. There are so many more, so I want to add to this list from time to time as I used to! As you visit these blogs, check out the comments to see other interesting bloggers - this is how our community grows. And new visitors, feel free to join in or lurk or whatever you like.

First off, you can join me on Facebook or Twitter. And any of the links below, be sure to check out their twitter and/or facebook pages. Enjoy . . .

Jody Hedlund always has something wise and wonderful to say to/for writers/authors on her blog.

Kristen Lamb's blog is chock full of tips for writers and has written a book about writers and social media-- she's been discussing the best ways to use twitter and is taking questions for "Dr. Twuth" - teehee.

Also for some really great twitter tips, head over to Nina Badzin's blog. She also writes about family life and writing.

Or you can go to the wonderful Writer Unboxed to read wonderful posts for and about writers - visit their facebook page as well - join us for discussions about writing, reading, writers, etc - they're growing fast!

I loved this blog post about milestones versus goals, written by Tobias Buckell. This was my first visit to his site and I can't even remember how I landed there! :-D

Shelf Awareness - for readers and people in the book business.

Checkerboard Squares by Carolyn V - she has some linky love up so that nabs two birds with one hand.

A Slice of Life by Linda Hoye - such wisdom and beauty on her blog.

Karen G from "coming down the mountain" is having another "BBQ Labor Day(s) Party" where bloggers visit each other and find new friends - I met Karen in this way, and some other great bloggers as well! Join in on Friday.

I love Deb S's blog Catbird Scout- such beauty and insight and poignant expression, good solid writing too boot - she wrote a post that touched me deeply. ". . . Growth requires darkness. Life requires light."

Just found this informatively fun blog: what women write. Right now there is an interview with Agent Kristin Nelson, but scroll on down for more on women and writing and all things related.

Writerhead - with Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, where she asks writers three questions about their "writerhead."

Last, but of course not least, LitStack, for the love of all things wordy.

Now, y'all go do the day and have a nice weekened to boot . . .

Photos, No Words: fall here and there & a short "rocky" trip 'round the little log house

The Work-Out Writer: How Bad Do You Want This?

I climbed on the treadmill today with less energy than I wanted. Since at least Monday, I've had a dull headache and that weird "impending doom" feeling. GMR teases me about it, but I usually say "Something's coming," when I feel this way. That something's usually geological or atmospheric or combo. I've been "right," but maybe as well there are times I've been wrong and just didn't note it—all could be a coincidence. I'm still feeling it today, and danged if some weird thought didn't bomp me in my head: "under the sea," and now I'm feeling foolish and where was I on this post? I sure need to talk about "distraction" don't I?

Oh yes . . . treadmill, no energy - the old "I don't know if I can do this today" come calling . . .



You think this snail worries about how long it'll take it to cross the road? Does it pause to consider how sucky it is?

During my jog, I wanted to stop multiple times. I didn't want to challenge myself. I wanted Easy. To go along at this slow steady pace, or better yet, walk, or better yet, jump off and go do something else. I became so frustrated with myself, that I yelled in my head, like a red-faced coach, "HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS? HUH? HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS?" And all of a sudden, I wanted it BAD! I was fired up! I was ready to work. I bumped up the speed and tore off on the treadmill.

During one particular song, I pushed off on my leg and hovered in the air before slamming down, and did it again and again. As I hovered there, it felt as if I were suspended about a foot in the air, when in reality, I probably only came up a few inches—but the Perception was I felt myself higher. Does it really matter if I only came up a few inches? Or is the Perception of what I felt I accomplished a just-as-important reality? I like to think the latter, for it inspired me to take it further/farther, to run stronger, to push myself past the point of what I thought, or what I told myself (and this is an important insight), was my limit.

HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS?

Take what I said above and apply it to your writing life, or your musical life, or your artistic life, or your work life, your home life, your Life. How bad do we want what we think we want the most? How hard are we willing to work for it? How often are we willing to feel uncomfortable? How often are we able to face disappointment and still go on? And how much are we willing to push ourselves past the point where we think we must stop?

And when we push off, hovering in the air, feeling powerful and strong, do we let that wonderful perception spur us on to do more and better and stronger? Or do we say, "Eh, I was really only inches off the ground. No big deal. Other people can jump higher. Eh." How bad do you want this? Bad enough to sweat and push and sprint and, as well, sometimes to feel pain and set-backs and exhaustion but pick yourself up and do it again. And again. And again. And again. Once again.

I'll tell you what giving up or giving in gives you: Not a danged thing but regret. And the flipside of that is this: you can work your ass off and still not reach all of your goals, but I can guarantee you'll have accomplished more than you ever dreamed you could if you do not give in to negativity and fear and doubt, and note I said "not give in to it" not that you'll never feel those things.

You'll have jumped up, hovered higher than you ever thought you could soar, grow stronger, faster, more determined. Note the accomplishments and savor them, for even the smallest goal reached is A Goal Reached. Why do we disregard even the smallest of goals? They weren't so small when we were arching towards them, were they?

How bad do you want this?

Photos by kat . . .

Photos/Videos & two comics, no words

teeheehee



[If you missed it (And check out Steph's other interviews - she's a beautiful, positive person to listen to and to know): ] See y'all Wednesday -


Listen to internet radio with Steph Jordan on Blog Talk Radio

The Work-out Writer

Work-out: In my personal trainer days, I used to tell clients to "listen to their bodies" to let them know how much they could do. I now recognize how this isn't always the case. Sometimes our bodies/minds want to fool us, because it is Hard.

When I was in Oregon, I jogged a rather difficult path with my son. It surprised me how much trouble I was having, because I thought I'd been doing The Difficult Workout on my treadmill. It wasn't until I returned home that I recognized what I had been doing. Before my trip to Oregon, I'd be on the treadmill and whenever the end of a song came, I'd stop, take a drink, stretch a bit, and then hit it again. What I noticed once I returned from Oregon was that as a song began to end, my body began to tell me to STOP! I saw how I intently watched that little indicator to see when the song would end, and could actually feel the tension in my body urge me to STOP.

I didn't stop that time, or the next, or next, and soon my body began to adjust to the idea that I wasn't going to let it get away with it. There are times we must push through when our bodies/minds tell us it wants to slow down or stop—not to the point of exhaustion or dangerous over-working, but that you'll need to figure out for yourself -- what is your truths and what is your justifications/excuses.


Writer: Some days I just ain't feelin' it, you know? Some days I whine that I haven't even been noticed by the New York Times, much less on their best seller's list. Publishers Weekly, why hast thouest forsaken me? Oprah, well dang, that's a long shot of a mil to half of one. Little Indie Bookstores I touted so hard, why ain't my books in your stores? Oh sigh. Wah Wah Wah Woe.

Well, Kat, suck it up. Sit your arse down in the chair, fingers to keys, and write. Timed scheduled writing isn't going to do it for me, but that's just me. If I have to watch the clock, then I'm going to be ever aware of that clock ticking: 15 minutes of writing? Okay – tic toc tic toc tic toc. The work also isn't going to be done by my whining about how haaarrrrd it is to be a wrriiiiiitteer—um, maybe it is sometimes hard, but the jobs I had before were soul-suckers, and which would I rather be doing? Tic Toc – let me take a wild guess here: writing? Duh! Yes! Time to stop whining and time to stop my "mind/body" from telling me I caaaaann't. Books aren't written by rolling our eyes and sighing about how writers are full of angst and woe-is-me. Royalties aren't paid to writers who aren't producing books. The work is done by doing the work. There will be "off days" and I'll respect them, but I must find my truth versus my excuses.

Work-out: Sometimes I want some chocolate, dammit. Sometimes I want to sit on my ass and do nothing but eat that chocolate and feel depressed and not do a danged ole thing. Some days feel sucky.

I don't know if I could ever run a maratttthooonnnn. I'm tired of not eating what I waaaant toooooo. How come she looks so good and young and dewy and she doesn't hardly do a thing and I work my ass off to stay in shhaaaaape (though maybe she is working her ass off, how do I know, huhn). But when I sit on my ass and gobble down an entire box of chocolates, feeling sorry for myself and the state of Everything, what happens is I feel even worse than before. My body is bloated and sick from Chocolate Overload.

I'm sluggish, tired, cranky. Better I'd gone for a walk in my beautiful calming cove and then treated myself to just a few pieces of that chocolate, savoring every bite and feeling happy I ain't doing so bad for a 54 year old -it's fruitless to compare myself to a 20 or 30 year old. It's fruitless and stupid to compare ourselves to Any One Out There: say that loud and say it again and again and again and ever more again: Don't compare yourself to others. Carve your own path. And, geez, you don't know who is comparing themselves to You and wishing they had what you had: just sayin'!

Writer: Sometimes I just want some chocolate. Sometimes I want to sit on my ass and do nothing but eat chocolate and feel depressed and not do a danged ole thing. Some days feel sucky. Well, guess what? So do thousands of other people, and if thousands of us sat our asses on the couch and ate chocolate and did nothing, who'd write the books/newspapers/articles/blogs? Who'd take care of business? Who'd make my supper, GMR? (haw!) This business isn't always easy, but ask yourself: Is this what I really want to do? Am I ready to be in this for the long-haul? Do I love writing more than my right arm? Am I ready to sacrifice? Can I handle the rejection without breaking up and breaking down? Sometimes this is the easiest best job in the entire danged ole world, and other times it sucks like a big fat suckity sucky britches—but I love it more than my right arm. And, see "soul-sucking jobs" comment above. And also see "comparing yourself" above. Then get back to work.

Work-out: At the end of a grueling work-out, find time to stretch those muscles, and then just as important as the work-out and the stretch comes the quiet moment of reflection. Time and distance from wants and needs will lift us away as we respect our bodies, minds, hearts.

Writer: When the writing day is done, find a moment to reflect on this writing life. Calm the voices, the rejections, the expectations, the harried hurry and the long-ass frustrating waits, and remember just why you love this life so much. The raw beginnings of it, when it was just you and a white space of whatever in the world you wanted to say to anyone who would listen, even if it was only your own ears. Find that joy in quiet reflection. Give yourself a big ole break, okay? There isn't a one of us who can tell you how to do this life and why and how much. We can only find our truths and learn to ignore our excuses/justifications--and they can be sneaky.

Relax. It'll all be okay. Your journey will not be mine and mine will not be hers his yours. Calm. Calm.

Work-out: Night comes. Time to rest the body. Rest is as important as movement. A good night's sleep prepares you for the next day's challenge. Let go and sleep sleep. Be grateful for the body that carries you from day to day. Keep it healthy and strong and then give it rest.

Writer: When lying your head upon your pillow, writer, remember to give gratitude for what you have accomplished. This business is so much about looking ahead to what we "should" accomplish, or what may come, or what we hope will come, that we must remember what we did achieve, hold on to it, let it come with us into our dreams. "You Did This! Good for You!" Sleep. Dream. Going to sleep with a heart of gratitude will ready you for the next day's challenge.

Namaste.

Write.

Folks, one last thing, and I know this was already LOOONNG, but I will be at Living In Color with Stephanie Jordan on Blog Talk Radio this evening, 8/17, at 5:30 eastern. Stephanie is a HUGE supporter of writers, musicians, artists, and etc etc. If you can't join us live, hope you'll come back later to listen.

photos properyy of Kat! Taken by Kat (or kat's bff's or GMRs)

Photos, Video: The power of No Words and the Power of Words

Life in a larger sense outside this Writing Life . . . "A writer is not a hero anymore. He's a fool."

While in Portland, Oregon visiting my son, daughter in law, and Lil Boop, I had time to consider life in a larger sense—meaning, outside of my own self-indulgent pursuits. After all, isn't the writing life a bit self-indulgent? And a bit selfish. It has to be that way so the work is done. Right? I must ignore family, friends, projects, fun and the outside world—of course, these things aren't always ignored, but they do feel more than their fair share of neglect.More than you may know or I want to admit, actually.


But while holding my granddaughter's hand, the vision of my world burst out and beyond and I thought how easy it would be to give up all of it if I could just hold onto her hand for more than two short weeks. I thought how I could make things different when I arrived back home to Killian Knob. How I would not spend so much time with the laptop glued to me, how I would go out and experience more. How I would come home and tackle the projects I've been meaning to do, how I would spend more time rocking on the porch with GMR.





I've been having a great time with my friends Angie Ledbetter and Alaine Benard come to visit me here—getting out and about and all around. They arrived just days after I returned from Portland, and fortunately kept me from sinking back down into my leather chair with laptop attached. And yet I know I will be sucked back into this writing life and all the other suckers that come with it, as if I am the head of an octopus and my eight arms with all their suckers are grabbing here here there there here there and holding on holding holding on less I miss something important or I am not noticed or I ignore someone when I don't mean to or I don't do something I should be doing or or or or. And the simple fact is that I just love what I do and that's all there is to it -- it (the writing) is my right arm-leg-fingers-toes, losing it means losing much.

I watched an Anthony Bourdain show where someone had filmed a documentary of him about eleven years ago. There were a couple of things that struck me and I'll have to paraphrase. One of the guest writers speaking about Bourdain and this writing life said, "A writer is not a hero anymore. He's a fool." And I knew what he meant to a certain degree, though I never thought of this writing life as "heroic" or myself as a "hero," ever, never, ever-never. But, the part I understood of that statement was about seeing behind the wizards curtain (I wrote a post about it), how writers aren't seen as these bigger than life magical people anymore, for the curtain has been pulled back to reveal the little old man. I come from that generation of writers where the curtain has already been pulled back to reveal, not from the "heroic" or magical times.

If I am a fool for doing this (the writing), I go into it with my eyes wide-opened to the foolery of it all. This writing life is all I ever wanted to do, but it can't be all I've ever wanted or needed to Be for that would be somehow lacking.
Bourdain said about this, "Writers are a disappointment compared to their work." And at that point in the documentary I could see his face changing, for in the beginning there was the excitement of his book coming out, and of being touted and paraded around and the traveling and recognition. And then reality sets in and things begin to warp a bit, fray around the edges. I could see this change in his countenance and features as the documentary wore on.

Then Anthony Bourdain said this, "I want my old life back," and there was The Face. I'd seen that face before—in my own mirror (and that isn't to imply, of course, that any of my little successes measure up to his bigger ones at all).

There are times I want to tell writers, "Be careful what you wish for . . ." but, I also know that there is the Rest of the Story. For now you can look at Bourdain's face grown eleven years older and eleven years wiser. He has taken back some of his power, because he can. In the beginning, we give up power and let ourselves be tossed upon the waves because we are excited and we feel ever so very lucky. Oh how much better to let gratitude slip in for what we have but to recognize we can't do it all and we shouldn't try, to let ourselves stop, take a deep breath, and look outward to this larger world. And to learn to let some things Go.

With every story/book I write, I give you everything I have and then I have to let it go out to the world, and what the world does to it and with it is out of my control. I can only write the best book I know how to do. When I learn this is how it must be, I lose The Face. When I walk with my granddaughter, I lose The Face. When I recognize I am so much more than Author of Books—a friend, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a grandmother, a mother, a fallible human being—my world opens out and beyond and I lose The Face, and gain a whole helluva lot more life.


Enjoy your week and the coming weekend, y'all. Namaste!

Photos, No Words: Of friends and Sunsets and Chocolate and Ahhh