Rebecca Jones-Howe's Blog, page 16

Resetting My Writing Goals

I haven’t written a short story since 2016. Honestly, it’s shocking to even just write that because this fact upsets me. It’s really been 3 years? I know I wrote a novel somewhere in there (THAT I STILL HAVE YET TO FINISH EDITING) but I seriously couldn’t cram in a story or two in that time? Really? Really? What happened to my writing goals?

I really don’t know how a lot of writers maintain consistency, but I guess there’s no time to figure that out quite like the present. Especially now that I’m not working my full-time retail job. I’ll just be straight up honest and say that while doing the stay at home mom thing can be very grating at times, not having a place to be or a designated hour to wake up every morning makes a universe of difference. I stay up until 2 AM every damn night.

I’m really not the best writer to be doling out writing advice right now, but I’m just gonna do it anyway. I mean, sure I’m crap now, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t good at one point.

The key to writing like a pro (what is a pro writer, anyway?) is consistency, so I might follow my old rules for a few months until work gets too hard or I get pregnant or Rockstar puts out a new video game. Those are my flaws. You’ve likely got your own. Chances are, you’re reading this with the hope that I can motivate you.

Well, here we go. Let’s do this together!

Recognize Addiction

I’ll just tell you straight off that writing really feels like addiction when I’m really immersed in it. Other writers will definitely vouch for me. Those late nights? The coffee? That space I can carve out solely for me and the little world I’ve established? The sound of the keys tapping? The playlists I make full of story-appropriate songs? Even the way my story functions when I’m not actually writing. Plot mechanics keep ticking. Characters speak to me. Their voices are background noise when I’m cooking and cleaning and walking to work and back. To write a story is to exist in two places at once.

The “Writer’s High”. I was writing the second draft of my novel the last time I experienced it. Then I got pregnant and it faded for nine months. I need it back. I want to get high again. Unfortunately, sometimes I need more than just the need to experience the high to actually get there.

Fortunately, one of my writer friends recently became an editor at a small press and put out anthology call. And the theme is right up my alley. So, I read the submission call and concocted a plot. Then I started writing. And then, well, I got bored.

Find An Alternative Energy Source

If you’ve read Vile Men you know what I like to write about. Darkness. Crime. Sex. I still love all those things. For some reason, I just can’t write them anymore. At least not in that combo. So this anthology call added a specific element to its call. Said element required me to examine the characters I always write about (let’s not lie: they’re pretty much all hetero white Gen X/Millennials) and try to diversify a bit.

It took some time. It was hard to accept my limits at first, but then I took a month and did some research. I joined some new Facebook groups. I injected myself with some new perspective. My protagonist slowly started becoming real. Then one night, while I was sitting in front of the computer, she started speaking. In her voice.

I started writing.

Yes, I’m still writing my standard affair. People are still gonna get it on and people are still gonna hate themselves, but honestly, just having this new challenge is very interesting. (Honestly, I’d love to share more about my new “drive” but I’d rather keep the cards close to the chest until I finish this story.) Seeing things from a different place really does help you rewire your work, though. So start following some disabled Youtubers. Listen to some LGBTQ+ podcasts. Follow some people on Twitter of different races. There’s so much else going on that might inspire you.

Dissect Unproductive Things

Before I got heavy into short fiction in 2010, I played a lot of video games. I was never much of a gamer, but I liked the idea of being more into it. I liked the freedom, the stress relief. Unfortunately, for creatives, gaming sucks up a lot of free time when you could be actually doing some work. Work, which shockingly, is also stress-relieving.

So yeah, I might have almost finished Skyrim at one point, but I literally can’t do that anymore. I don’t even watch my husband game anymore. I have to write instead. My only exception is when a new Red Dead Redemption game comes out, or a Grand Theft Auto game comes out. Because I’m a garbage gamer and I’m a sucker for Rockstar and I like having trouble opening drawers and shit.

My point is, recognize what you need to cut, what isn’t productive. I can still game, but I can’t play all the games. I also can’t crochet as much as I want. Like I’d love to make a bunch of crochet blankets but they’re too much of a time-suck and I have too many damn blankets in my house anyway. It wouldn’t be a productive use of my time (even though my son’s bedroom does need more rustic cable-knit crochet pillows – my current WIP!).

Make Rules

One of my writer friends recently shared his “writer rule” on Facebook. He works full-time and has three kids, BUT he always ensures that he spends one hour writing every night, and he must 300 words. I read that and thought about how damn reasonable it was.

Granted, I might have some trouble with the “rule” when I go back to full-time work in a year, but for now, I’ve allotted myself one hour every night and I have to write at least 500 words.

It’s been insanely easy. The hour goes by fast. Sometimes I write 600 words. Sometimes I spend two hours working, or I work until the baby gets upset or my coffee runs out.

Editing is a bit trickier to “count”, but I like to leave my “Project Targets” window on Scrivener on. I’ll cut words. I’ll add a few. Essentially, if that word count bar is fluctuating, I’m getting work done.

Consistency?

Most of my adult writing life has been plagued with inconsistency. I recall once in high school I made a goal of writing two short stories a month. It was a goal that I actually manged to stick with all year. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until LitReactor’s WAR competition (an NCAA style bracket writing contest) that I was churning out work on a regular basis. Most of the stories I wrote during the two WAR tournaments ended up in Vile Men. I wrote a few more stories and published them here and there.

Then it was time to write a novel and I put short stories aside for a while. Maybe for too long. I’ve definitely missed it. I’ve clearly needed these writing goals.

I’m sure MOST writers struggle with writing work on a regular basis. Between my job and my kids and cleaning my bathroom, I struggle with keeping up consistency. Anxiety gets in the way. So does health. Sometimes I’m way too damn tired to stay up at night. I think it’s okay to cut myself some slack, but I do often struggle with not feeling like a “real” writer if writing isn’t something I’m doing every day.

I’m just trying to get back on the horse. As I’m sure we all are.

So, How Are You?

Are you in the same boat, or am I a total fraud doling out advice while not writing? How long do you go between stints? How do you motivate yourself? Do you drink when you write? Do you drink Americanos as I do? What are your writing goals? Feel free to comment and share. Let’s get high together.

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My Makeup Essentials

My love of makeup started late. I’m an elder millennial, so I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing until only recently. As in, 2016-ish? I can’t really say that I would have ever been comfortable walking into a Sephora until just last year or so. In this last year, though, I have amassed a nice selection of makeup essentials.

My husband would tell you that I went way overboard with my makeup purchases over the past year. I’ll tell you that he’s right. I spent too much. I bought more makeup than I needed and I really don’t experiment as much as I should for the amount of makeup that I own. So, allow me to spare you a little time by sharing some of my solid investments. Of course, some of these products won’t work for you, but if you’re somewhat like me:

have a medium warm / oilyish skin tone with yellow undertoneslike to keep your makeup a Kate Middleton-esque neutral but occasionally experiment with edgy looksdo your makeup in 45 minutes or lesshave some bangin’ brows that only need a little help

…then perhaps some of my essentials might do something nice for your face.

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Pixi Flawless Beauty Primer

I discovered Pixi during Target’s very brief stay in Canada in 2015. I tried a myriad of their products but found them very hard to come by after Target’s Canadian departure. For a while I was paying exorbitant shipping fees to get their sacred Brow Duo pencil (discussed below), but once Shoppers Drug Mart started carrying a small selection of their products I have been over the bloody moon. I was using the regular face primer for a while but decided to try out the “Flawless” version a year ago. It’s quoted to be essentially 20-year-old flesh in a bottle, which in a way is legit because the primer actually sparkles (like Twilight vampire sparkly) but fear not! Once you slather your concealer and foundation over it, all you get is glow.

The Balm MaryLou-manizer Highlighter

I can’t say that I’ve tried a lot of highlighters, but I’ve always loved The Balm and I’ve seen enough YouTube makeup tutorials with this highlighter to basically cement my choice. A little goes a long way. (Like really, just a dab’ll do ya!) I’ve had mine for well over a year and there’s barely a dent in the pan.

Urban Decay All-Nighter Setting Spray

Summers are pretty rough in Kamloops and I’ve found that any setting spray will usually keep my makeup where it needs to be, specifically in the under-eye region. The first few sprays I tried were cheap drugstore versions in 2 oz bottles. I burned through them pretty quick. The All-Nighter spray comes in a standard 4 oz bottle, which is twice as much for also twice the price, but what can I say? It’s worth it. The last bottle I got was a special 8 oz XL size that was limited edition. It’s now sold out, but I really do hope they bring it back because it was an amazing deal and my bottle is still going strong.

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LunatiCK Cosmetics High Definition Microfinish Pressed Powder

I’ve tried my fair share of translucent pressed powders and I can’t say that I’ve really noticed a variable difference between them. However, I will tell you that this stuff keeps my under-eye area pretty baked. Like whatever concealer I jam over my massive black hole writer circles pretty much stays there until I either cry or wash it off at the end of the day. Not to mention, the Ouija planchette design of the packaging makes it a solid investment, both in looks and in practicality. The lid swivels aside when in use and there is a nice magnet that keeps the powder closed for on the go.

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LunatiCK Cosmetics Pro Contour Palette – Volume 2

So I literally just got this contour palette but I’ve been lusting over it for well over a year and after using it once I already know that I’m not going to be changing things up.

Form what I understand, this palette was designed for people with medium to dark skin tones, and the real “game changing” aspect of it was that it was a contour palette with cool shades, with which you can create real shadows. Prior to this palette, I was using the Kat von D Shade & Light contour palette for about a year. I liked it, but eventually grew frustrated that I couldn’t carve in my cheeks without it looking like I’d just fake n’ baked in the right parts of my face. It gave me far too much warmth. I needed some greys, dammit.

So I’ve used this palette about three times and I’m pretty much sold. They’re very pigmented. They build incredibly well. I love the darker greys, as well as that lovely banana yellow shade that I use to make my jawbone look super angled AF. All the pans are magnetized, so if you burn through one faster than the others, you can buy new ones individually. I also love that this palette includes blushes, so now I have one less palette to take with me on vacations. Like this thing is your entire face, honestly. AND, if you’re fair-skinned, definitely purchase the Volume 1 palette. I have heard many good things for Caspers hoping to put some colour.

[image error]Bob likes a sultry emo cat-eye.



Stila Eyes Are the Window Palette (Soul)

This palette seems to have mixed reviews in terms of pigmentation. When I first bought it I watched a ton of YouTube reviews and regretted my purchase. Honestly, though? When I don’t know what to do with my eyelids, this is always the palette that I end up grabbing. It’s got all the stuff for neutral looks, from simple to smokey. There’s a good balance of matte and shimmer shadows. The colours show quite well on my warm skin tone, though I do really love the cool grey-brown matte shade most of all. I can do my standard Kate Middleton poser eye look with this. It’s the only palette I need when my husband’s hassling me to get ready quick. It’s the only palette I ever bring with me when I go on family vacations. I also really like that the case is plastic, so it does travel well.

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Pixi Brow Duo

So THIS was Pixi product that changed my life. For the longest time, I really struggled with eyebrow pencils. Like, how do you not use half the pencil in one application? I liked my brows pretty bold in the past, and this pencil can achieve that look without shrinking down to nothing. Now I do a more neutral thing. This is a twist-up pencil and a gel duo. I don’t use the gel with my looks these days, but I do like the option of having something to tame down the unruly brow hairs. My only complaint is that there could be a little more pencil and a little less gel, but considering that one pencil lasts me about four months, I can’t complain.

The Balm Put A Lid On It Eyelid Primer

Can’t say that I’ve tried other eyelid primers, but if I’m doing a more elaborate look, I always slap some of this on my eyes before blending in the shadows. The little tube lasts a long time, and I’ve definitely noticed that my coloured shadows don’t fade when I use it.

Too Faced Lip Insurance Lip Primer

I never leave the house without lipstick. I also only ever wear bullet lipstick, (because I love making things difficult for myself), and at times it’s hard to keep that stuff confined to my lips. Some lipstick can stray more than others, but I typically don’t need to worry much with this lip primer. Some say it’s a bit tacky, but I put it on first, then line my lips up with liner, and then put the lipstick on. And yeah, this stuff will keep MOST of my lipstick in place for the day. I can’t say it keeps it lasting longer, but it does keep it contained like a good pile of sandbags.

Necromancy Cosmetica Lipstick (Grave Digger)

So I’ve got a nice selection of lipstick. I’d recommend Necromany Cosmetica’s entire selection as a whole. They have neutrals and reds and pinks and some ultra-obscure shades, but out of my entire collection of Necromancy lipsticks, I do find myself gravitating to this rusty orange shade the most. It works as both a nude and as a bold statement shade. The formula has held up well over time. It’s long lasting AND stays in place.

Your Turn!

What are some of your makeup essentials? Feel free to recommend me some decent concealers or foundations, particularly anything full coverage or that combats writer under-eye circles like a beast.

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Domestic Goddess: A Myth

Two weeks and four days into becoming a mother for the second time and I’ve had my first breakdown. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still better than I did my first go around. I had the whole domestic goddess routine all figured out. Floors were swept. Laundry was done AND put away. My phone stayed face-down. I even played mind-numbing games with my daughter and didn’t quite want to slam my face into the table.

The mass of changing postpartum hormones has actually done me some good.

My husband worked late all week and I was cool. I was looking forward to Saturday. Then, on Saturday, he started making breakfast and his work phone rang, and lo and behold, all my magical weekend plans went down the drain.

I played it cool, allowed the postpartum hormones to work their magic. My daughter and I baked some cookies. I got her to paint some clay hearts while I nursed the baby. I organized some crafts and redid my driftwood wreath during a span of downtime. Then my daughter got upset because I wouldn’t let her play with my craft butterflies. I gave her her actual toy butterfly. She said she didn’t like that it was sparkly. Then she said she liked sparkles. She wanted a sparkly butterfly.

I said: THAT IS A SPARKLY BUTTERFLY!

She went upstairs. I worked myself up getting angry about it. One of the cats decided to make a new bed in the baby’s car seat and that was the end of it. By the time my husband got home, I was rabidly vacuuming the kitchen floor. He asked what was wrong.

Surprise! I lost my shit. And then I cried. Like disgusting anxiety-induced breakdown cried. He gave me space because he already knows (for the most part) how to deal with me. He told me to have a damn nap. I did.

Only Moms Know

I think a lot about Betty Draper. I think of her most when I’m at home, alone, with my kid, or KIDS (plural!) now. Scenes of her always bristle through my still. There was that time when she famously said: “Only boring people are bored”. There was that time she locked Sally in the closet. Of course, there was that infamous birds scene.

This scene convinced me that nightgowns are still rad.

But the scene that I remember most? It’s the one where she breaks the dining room chair into pieces because she’s trying to set up for an elaborate dinner and the chair won’t sit like the rest of the chairs.

I started watching Mad Men long before I was a mom, and shortly before I was even married. Of course, I couldn’t understand the complexities of her character. She was just a bad mom, a horrible woman. There are plenty of “In defense of Betty Draper” videos on YouTube, but honestly, I feel like the only way to really understand Betty Draper is to be a stay-at-home mom for like a day.

Like, sure, it’s not the 50’s-60’s anymore, and sure, my husband isn’t a lying workaholic egotistical cheating POS, but in the three weeks since I brought my son home from the hospital, I’ve been noticing some of my changes.

I am becoming Betty Draper and there’s nothing I can do.

Millennial Life Be Like…

I’m a Millennial. The elder kind. The kind that knows shit now. My husband and I own a condo but if he ever loses his job we definitely would be screwed. He works too much. I had to work for 10+ years at the same job to sort of be able to sustain myself (and to some degree, my disastrous shopping habits). We’re doing pretty decent for being college dropouts. I’m often thankful that we dropped out before we amassed student loans.

I also think a lot about the fact that we live in Canada, where healthcare doesn’t ruin your life. My diabetes medication costs me like $400 a year after all the Medicare and workplace benefits come into play.

Like, this shit is stressful and on top of that I have to take monthly baby progress photos and make pretty cupcakes for events and take happy photos of my family at every event we go to. Then I go over the pictures and post only the best happy smiling ones to Instagram. Photos where my daughter’s persistent mullet isn’t obvious. Photos where I don’t think I look fat. Photos where my husband’s sunburn is somewhat covered with shade. I mean, let’s be honest: Instagram is like 80% of the problem. All those “mom influencers” with their nursery reveals and affiliates and sponsored content. Get out of here with your marble kitchen countertops.

For the record, I had to redo my garbage house-painted 70’s countertops with Rustoleum Countertop Transformations and 4+ years later they look pretty decent, despite the original process being a giant pain in the ass. (Totally honest review and not sponsored!)

And I know that the typical “mom outfit” these days is leggings and a Lululemon hoodie and a messy top bun, but my love of vintage style and Kate Middleton has never let up even after having kids. To be honest, having kids has actually exacerbated my problem with looking perfect 100% of the time. Like I still want that Kate Middleton blowout and I will get up at 6AM every Sunday to make sure I give myself time to achieve it.

Because if I don’t post it on Instagram, then I will never feel validated. Please post all the sad crying emojis for me because I could really use them.

The Modern-Day Domestic Goddess

My house isn’t spotless, but it’s got some decent corners that look Instagram-worthy. I can’t maintain everything in my house, but I do follow Marie Kondo’s folding methods to a T (they fucking work, people!). Half of my daughter’s toys are neatly organized into proper containers. The other half are thrown haphazardly in buckets behind the couch. I’ll make a mean cupcake and can whip up a GORG! batch of deviled eggs, but I have zero ambition to ever cook dinner.

I mean, this stuff is all surface, and I think most modern moms can be pretty blunt about their flaws. What bugs me is the joke about “mom juice”. Needing a glass at the end of the night is fine, but mothers abusing alcohol is actually becoming a problem and I think it’s worth recognizing that.

I also don’t like the commercials where moms are portrayed as stressed AF and it’s supposed to be cute. (They always have like perfect bathtubs too and it always makes me envious AF because my bathtub still has a 70’s tile backsplash and the caulking is peeling and moldy and needs some HELP.)

I mean, I like making jokes about how annoying my kid is just as much as the next mom, but this shit is actually real, and I think making jokes about it 100% of the time is doing all of us a disservice.

More than once this week I’ve had to explain to my husband that I have no idea how to handle my daughter right now, that I’m at my wit’s end, that I don’t know how to talk to her without her thinking I’m Betty Draper. Which, I guess, is sort of okay, the more I think about it. Like, we can all freely admit that Sally Draper (Betty’s daughter) was easily the second-best female character on the show after Peggy, right?

BE BLOODY HONEST

That’s why I like the idea of being more like Betty Draper. I mean, yes she was widely known for being a pretty horrible mom, but she was also a compelling character for those same reasons. And as the days pass and I end up in more stressful circumstances trying to balance myself between a newborn and a four-year-old, between managing my Type 1 diabetes and my healing cesarean scar, between my writing “career” and my need to allow myself a moment or two to breastfeed and bond with my son, I think it’s okay to have an ugly-cry breakdown. It’s okay to break a chair. It’s okay to rant to my husband about how stressed I am so long as I can work things out and it doesn’t exacerbate things.

It’s not really okay to lock your kid in a closet, but I’d say that if you accidentally snap at your kid and have to go and apologize and ask for forgiveness (as I’m finding myself doing now on a perpetual basis), that it’s totally okay. And also probably good for your kid to see you as a legit real person.

Maybe that’s just me?

Just know that whenever I post a picture of myself dressed to the 9’s just to go to the dollar store for cupboard organizers that I also probably cried that day.

[image error]This gonna be me accompanying Arthur on a field trip in like 10 years.

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Have Read: Books of Winter / Spring 2019

As I’ve mentioned in my last completed book post, I’ve been spending more of my time lost between pages. And when I mean pages, I mean actual, physical pages. Returning to books has rekindled a love of reading I never really thought I’d regain in my adult life. Who knew I just needed to set a little more time to read?

This year, in particular, has really boosted things, especially because I spent the beginning of this year pregnant and anxiety-ridden. Reading has really helped me hold a lot of my hormonal unease at bay. I actually started going back to the discount section at Chapters. I went to the local used bookstore. I delved outside of my usual taste and found some bloody good stuff.

So let’s get on with the list and on with all the books I’ve read in 2019 so far.

(Note: All my links will lead you to Chapters because I boycott Amazon and all of Jeff Bezos’ awful ilk. Any books not available at Chapters will link to Abebooks, where you can hopefully get yourself a thrifted copy on the cheap.)

The House Swap – Rebecca Fleet

I picked this one up new during my fall vacation in Whistler. It seemed intriguing at the time (because what domestic thriller doesn’t when you’re on vacation?) but once I got home I simply put it on the shelf and forgot about it. Enter January, when my ambition to get some resolutions made was high. I found myself digging through my shelf for reading material. I spent thirty bucks on this book so I dove right in. My verdict? It’s your typical domestic thriller plot in microwave dinner form. There’s a strange situation (the house swap), some lying (an affair), and some dark secret that turns out to be rather anti-climatic by the story’s end. There were parts that touched on drug addiction and the dissolving of the protagonist’s marriage pretty realistic. Surprisingly, the husband is actually the most likable character in this one!

The Water Cure – Sophie Mackintosh

I got my husband to buy this for my birthday when I found it at the grocery store while we were there to get my favourite sugar-free drumsticks. The synopsis devoured me and I devoured this book. It was definitely dark and different, something that strayed from the typical thrillers I’ve found myself gravitating to as of late. The story reminded me a lot of Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle. The tension built slow. The characters were always on edge. The prose was beautiful. This book really struck me in all the right ways.

Follow Me Down – Sherri Smith

Picked this one up as a discount book from Chapters. It sat on the shelf for a while (perhaps I’ve dulled myself to thrillers?), but I forced myself to plow on through. This plot is your standard “protagonist has to go back to the small town where she grew up after a murder happens” kind of tale. It gives off a lot of Sharp Objects vibes, but I found the plot took a long damn time to really get juicy. I enjoyed the ride through the middle of the novel. Even with all the buildup, I couldn’t exactly suspend my disbelief at the story’s end.

Bound in Moonlight – Louisa Burton

Shocked was I to discover that my local used bookstore had an Erotica section. Even more shocked was I to find that it wasn’t jam-packed full of 50 Shades and other such billionaire knock-off garbage erotica. This novel is actually the second in a series of four books (called the Hidden Grotto) about what is essentially a mysterious sex castle in France. The books aren’t so much novels as they are collections of stories that vary in short story to novelette-length about the castle’s guests and its mythical inhabitants (like, there’s a satyr and some succubus’ and vampires and stuff).

This second volume contains three tales, two of which were just my kind of erotic. The last was pretty tame. Nevertheless, if you like your erotica Victorian-era taboo and your characters realistic, the writing good and your plots solid, I’d recommend this series. This book alone is worth it just for the story, “Slave Week”.

Harmless – James Grainger

Another used bookstore find, marketed as a literary thriller. The book takes place over one evening as two fathers search for their missing teenage daughters in the woods. Much of the book examines masculinity in a way that I found refreshing. At times I wanted to laugh. At times I wanted to shake my head. The book starts out with a bunch of old school friends reuniting as adults on a rural farm property, and quickly builds to Netflix’s Murder Mountain levels of weirdness. There’s a pretty bizarre chicken murder at one point, so if you’re squeamish about animals dying, maybe stay away?

The Bricks that Built the Houses – Kate Tempest

Another discount buy. While the book was beautifully-written, (the author is a rapper, so the prose def has some chops!) I had a hard time connecting with it. It follows four different London Millennial’s through their young adult lives, while also delving back into their parents’ experiences. I think it was this back and forth narrative that made it hard for me to really care about the characters. (I was also reading this during the peak of all my pregnancy complications, so perhaps some of my mentality is to blame.) Still, there’s a lot here to like, and I wouldn’t be against reading more of Tempest’s work in the future.

The Vanishing – Wendy Webb

Seeing as my writing has strayed down the horror path, I figured I’d try out some not-so-scary Gothic fiction (because I’m a coward). The author exclusively writes “northern Gothic” fiction, which sounded right up my alley. The story takes place in a large estate manor around Lake Superior. It’s reads more genre than literary. I didn’t find it to be really impacting, but I actually liked burning through a book solely for story. I read most of it while I was doing my pre-surgical screening for my C-section at the hospital (an all-day affair!) and it was a nice companion to have during those long wait times. Can’t say that I loved it, but I can say that I’ll likely read more of what Wendy Webb has to offer.

House of Dark Delights – Louisa Burton

So after reading Bound in Moonlight, I literally went online and bought used copies of the other three books in the Hidden Grotto series. This one is obviously the first book, and while I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did Bound In Moonlight, I still enjoyed it, ya know? What really bums me out is that I only have two books left in the series and Louisa Burton hasn’t written any more smut that I can find. Where is she? What is she doing, if not writing erotica that I personally connect with? What am I supposed to do when there is no more?

When Everything Feels like the Movies – Raziel Reid

Picked this one up at a local book sale. It’s my first book by a queer author and I was excited to dig right in. The book is short and the prose is tight, vulgar, and sharp. It’s definitely been a while since I’ve read work this gritty. I’ve definitely missed it. Raziel Reid’s story is sad and tough at the same time. I love the main character and the attitude he carries through the book. I’d definitely recommend if you’re a Palahniuk fan who’s sick of Palahniuk, or if you’re simply trying to diversify your author range. If you like gritty prose and wanna read some queer fiction, here’s a great place to start.

Your turn!

What books have you been reading lately? Have your book selections ventured beyond your usual literary palette? Do you only read authors of your own sex/gender/race, or do you like to diversify? Do you read erotica and what kind of stuff do you like? Got any erotica recommendations for me?

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While I Was Away: A Horror Story

Since I was last here, I started gestating my second child. That’s essentially my excuse for not updating sooner. I needed to sleep. Smells hit me. Anxiety started brimming. I started making excuses. Too pregnant to edit. Too pregnant to blog. I was too pregnant to be a writer. Oh, the horror!

Then Red Dead Redemption II came out and I didn’t even need to make excuses anymore. I’d spent well over a year slaving over my novel and I needed a bloody break. It had been forever since I last sat around on the couch like a complete loser. My novel sat inside my computer, sad and attention-deprived. I traded my keto diet for Pizza Hut and bags of chips. My husband and I spent our time immersed in the wild west. I gained a bunch of weight but that weight was all baby. Life was great. So full of non-commitment. So full of new spacious maternity dresses. I even bought one on Black Friday that Kate Middleton wore.

When we found out that our child was a boy, we decided to name him Arthur. After Arthur Morgan, of course.

My novel waited. And waited. And waited.

I spent a few nights trying to slip back into my waiting Scrivener document, but my heart just wasn’t in it. This happened with my first pregnancy too. My creative energy vanished. Pregnancy definitely does a lot of altering things, but I don’t think it’s something that female writers spend much time confronting. Maybe it’s time we should really confront the horror story that pregnancy can be, and embrace it.

Body Horror

I remember watching my body change when I was pregnant with my daughter. I didn’t take progress photos, but I did watch my gut expand while I waited for my baths to fill every night. Then the stretch marks came and I’d run my fingers up and down my compromised flesh in horror. One of them looked like a massive Harry Potter thunderbolt and I tried to see the novelty in it. I couldn’t. My body was maimed and would never look the same.

After you have the baby, well, things get even more horrific. I used to think that one of the pros of pregnancy was that you got to avoid having your period for three months. Not so! Postpartum, all those missed periods get to make their runway debut. Blood slips out for weeks. All of your 90’s teenage pad woes return in The Shining elevator form. Your breasts hurt. Engorment occurs. Milk ducts fill with what feels like cement. I don’t know why some women consider this a pro. I mean, it’s 2019 and we know without a doubt that Playstation 2-era Lara Croft tits are not attractive, right?

Your hips don’t fit in your jeans, either. And if you’re like me and still insist that leggings are not pants, you’re going to have a clothing CRISIS every time you attempt to dress your alien body to leave the house.

Building Terror

When it comes to childbirth, I don’t like knowing what to expect. Like maybe give me a glimpse of the monster, but leave it at that. Because I’m a Type I diabetic, my pregnancies are considered high-risk, and thus I need a lot of extra monitoring. I had to have extra ultrasounds (which was a plus, being able to see the baby more often, but also a con, because I also got to see just how big my son was getting.) They’d tell me he was in the 95th percentile and I started Googling pictures of large babies. I mean, that’s really all the horror I can tolerate.

All the technicians would say was, “It’s a good thing you’re having an elected C-section this time!”

Also, I had to go to the Labour and Delivery ward of the hospital for multiple NST tests every week. in an NST, they strap you to a monitor that checks the baby’s heart rate for about an hour, and while you’re laying there you get to the listen to the women across the hall in labour. It’s really great for the blood pressure. Mine was always high when they checked it.

I had to be induced at the end of my first pregnancy, on a count of the blood pressure. Labour never progressed. The baby wasn’t handling it well, so I ended up getting an emergency C-section. I also ended up getting over my fear of surgery (so, plus?).

This time around I opted for an elected C-section. Plenty of women told me it would be a much better experience, and I can vouch for that. I still struggled when the nurses wheeled me into the operating room. The table in the corner waited with its metal scissors and clamps and other stainless implements they were going to cut me open with. It’s like a fucking horror movie when you WILLINGLY let a guy shove a needle up your spine that paralyzes you from the chest down.

This time, I heard them actually cutting. This time, the hose banged against my arm while they sucked all the blood and fluids out.

Surgery will never not horrify me.

Psychological Torment

I had some pretty moderate postpartum depression after I had my daughter. At the time I didn’t think it was bad. I never sought out help. I spent most of my nights with my mind racing, spent my afternoons crying, spent my time without my kid without any guilt in the world. Any sense of what I considered normal before I became a parent was all I wanted to go back to.

Breastfeeding set me off. I hated breastfeeding, hated hearing about breastfeeding. I hated talking about being a parent. Tormenting guilt overcame me when I’d be reminded of the natural drug-free childbirth experience I was POSITIVE I was going to have. My daughter struggled to gain weight properly. Every time I had to appear in public with my kid and pretend to be happy was torture. I’d go home crying every. damn. time.

I edited some of the darkest stories in my Vile Men collection while under the worst of my depression. Plenty of sleepless winter nights were spent hunched over the dresser in my daughter’s bedroom. My back ached. My wrists ached. But at least I got some creative fodder out of the misery.

I like to be blunt about my PPD experience. People told me to seek out help, but I didn’t think my situation was that bad. I didn’t want to kill my daughter or myself. The depression just built up, built a wall, and refused to budge. I faked a lot of my happiness, put on the stupid happy face. Faking happiness is the easier thing to do around people who slather you thick with cliches.

Inside, I convinced myself that I would never have another kid. I refused to go through it again. Part of me believed that I was a horrible mother, that I couldn’t handle a newborn, that I couldn’t handle more than one child.

Having a kid was a challenge I wanted to take on. I gave my first go a C+.

Eventually, though, I found some footing. I was never going to be ideal, but at least I loved my daughter. I couldn’t devote all of myself to her, couldn’t sacrifice everything, but the love was there. I’d passed the challenge to some degree.

The Resolve

My novel was inspired by much of my time after having my daughter. It helped me get over a lot of guilt. Even if it was traumatic, at least I got something out of it.

I had my daughter in 2015. Four years later, I have confidence. I have a second draft of my debut psychological horror. And now I have a son.

I’m a legit two-time final girl.

I’m sorry I took so long to get back into this whole writing gig. Sometimes motherhood really beats the shit out of you. BUT FEAR NOT, for I got myself a tubal ligation after they ripped my son’s massive head out of me. I can guarantee you that this horrorshow will not be a trilogy.

I’ll be back at work soon.

The post While I Was Away: A Horror Story appeared first on REBECCAJONESHOWE.COM.

7 Mistakes I Made Writing My First Novel

Well, I finished my novel in the middle of August. Hard to believe that it’s already been two weeks since I freed the book to a handful of beta readers and that I haven’t spent much time hunched over my computer since then, but here we are.

I started my book in NaNoWriMo of 2016. Nearly two years later, it’s finally done. Almost. I’ve since sent it out to a handful of beta readers and am giving myself a bit of a break before I get their feedback. Then I’ll slave away one last time to fix whatever issues they bring up before sending it out to the literary agent who approached me back in April. We’ll see how it goes.

Two years to finish a novel isn’t horrible, but I would have liked to have taken the process a little more seriously. So, without much more rambling, here’s a list of things that I’d wished I’d done differently the first time around. Maybe you’ll heed my warnings.

I didn’t use an outline.

For the longest time, I’ve considered myself a “pantser” and I always found the idea of creating a plot outline boring. “What about those details you discover as you write?” I wondered. “What about the fun of discovering things about your characters?”

You can still discover all that stuff while you’re writing an outline for your novel.

Having been a short story writer for so many years, I loved the idea of piecing together tales like they were jigsaw puzzles. But a short story is like a 50 piece puzzle. A novel is at the very least, 1000 pieces, and don’t tell me that you’re not going to put that thing together without finding all the edge pieces first. Just don’t. Because you’re going to be miserable.

Writing an outline actually can be fun. I know so because I’m creating an outline for my second novel right now. Every day I’m creating stuff and discovering stuff. Obviously, an outline is about structure, so you can be as vague as you wanna be scenes. Just know what’s happening. Know what your characters’ intentions are. Know what they’re getting into. Know your tone. Know your ending. Know your twists. Know those little details that connect everything together before you obsess over the strength of your opening sentence.

Long story short, don’t be a pantser. Don’t take pride in identifying as a pantser. It’s not a cool thing to be. Nobody will be impressed if you add that term to your lingo. Be a plotter always.

I obsessed over my voice.

Probably the toughest part of switching from short stories to a novel was expanding my scenes. My short fiction has always relied on minimalism. Novels, though, need more words on the page, more time spent with characters, more plot to keep the momentum going.

It took me a while to get a feel for doing so. Usually, I like to leave a scene at a cliffhanger, but doing so in a novel leaves too many open spaces for readers to be confused.

I let the weight of the world get me down.

2017 was a rough year. Let’s be quite frank, I spent far too much of my time after Drumpf was inaugurated watching TYT instead of writing. I had to know all the news, had to see all the coverage, had to hear all the debate. I stupidly engaged in some of the debate.

Here’s the thing: I very much consider myself political, but after the 2015 Canadian election and then the mess that was the US election, I found myself relating to people differently. Coworkers. Friends. Family. I think those feelings can create great art. My work got a little bit political, but I now stray from being vocal about my opinions because it’s not something that I myself can personally manage.

The political landscape isn’t an easy place to navigate in 2018. And I know that I, like many, have had to deal with much anxiety over it. Don’t get too embedded in the squabble. Watch the news. Get informed. Participate where you feel you must, but in the end, focus on your craft. Art is there to keep you sane.

I felt too sorry for myself.

I had a rough day at work today.

I’m too drunk to write.

I’ll catch up on Better Call Saul and then I’ll get back to writing.

I’ll have a bath first and THEN I’ll be rested and motivated.

But you know what? Writing would have pulled my mind from my rough day at work. I didn’t need alcohol to write. Better Call Saul will always be waiting for me.

I still always had the bath and I always felt too tired after to write.

Being a writer has no glamour. For most, writing is still a “hobby” that you slot in between your full-time job and your kids and all the other crap. If you’re drinking a lot, you should probably stop. I know Hemingway and all the great writers of yesteryear were hardcore drunks, but there have been plenty of studies proving how unhealthy it is and all the great writers of “nexteryear” will probably be sober AF.

Lastly, if you’re tired, there’s always coffee.

And I won’t lie, my writing didn’t really improve until I treated myself to an espresso machine. I know the coffee isn’t itself magic, but if you’re like most writers and you already work a full-time job to pay your bills, then you’re going to need something to keep you going. Just don’t feel sorry for yourself.

I focused too much on the final product.

Being a writer is all about big hopes and dreams. Will an agent be blown away by this book? Will it be a bestseller? What will the cover look like? How many cool interviews will I get to do? Who will play my protagonist in the movie? Lemme just make a Pinterest board of potential actors who would fit the part…

None of this is going to happen if you don’t lay some damn words on a blank page, you loser.

Stop being a loser. Stop dreaming. Only Taylor Swift gets to profit from her loser teenage dreams and high school diaries. Not you.

I didn’t give myself a deadline.

Once you leave school, you kind of forget all about the pressure of deadlines. You might like to think that you can write a date down on the calendar, but when it’s you making the rules, you can always move that date, or just surpass it without having the slated task you assigned to that date finished. Nothing happens. Nothing ever happens. Nobody gets angry at you. Nobody penalizes you.

I did actually set myself many deadlines to have my novel finished. Life still overwhelmed me. I let my goal of editing a chapter a day fall by the wayside. Mainly because I didn’t connect with my novel as well as I should have from the beginning. I blame this problem on my lack of an outline to start with. I wish I’d connected sooner. I wish I’d been more serious. Work was tough at times. Life was tough at times. The last thing I ever wanted to do after putting my kid to sleep at night was going and opening my computer.

Slogging through my second draft was misery during the first half of the book. Granted, the first half was where most of the problems were, so perhaps I can cut myself the slightest bit of slack. BUT, once I hit some routine and momentum, the work got easier. I knew my characters and my voices and I found myself actually having some fun. This is the sweet spot you need to hit.

The goal here is to make your novel the paper mache volcano project you got to do in elementary school. You should be excited. The deadline should be a finish line. Why in the hell would you ever want to move it further ahead?

I procrastinated.

This pretty much ties in with everything above. I considered myself a writer and I wasn’t writing. I’ve learned that the only acceptable task for a writer to be doing when not writing is reading. If you’re like me and you’re trying to break into a “trend” of fiction, you should be reading everything that you can. Get inspiration. Figure out where your voice can stand out. Understand what you’re up against. Not only will you be entertained, but you’ll also build up some confidence, too. And maybe, just maybe, some motivation to actually fucking write.

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Sharp Objects: The Sharpest Part of Summer

Like many, I was lured into the dark world of Gillian Flynn via 2012’s Gone Girl. I quickly devoured her other two novels: Dark Places was good, but Sharp Objects was something magical. It’s not often that I come across a book that checks off every guilty pleasure on my list. Sharp Objects had a mystery, a damaged but interesting protagonist, some absolute darkness, a dash of sexiness and a little shock and blatant WTF. It’s a grown-up V.C. Andrews book I didn’t even need to be ashamed of enjoying.

So, back in 2014 when a limited series based off the novel was announced, I was more than excited, and after a few years of waiting, I can say that I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the ride. We’re five episodes into the series now, and just like with the books I’ve read lately, I figured I’d share some of my thoughts.

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Casting

In the book, Camille’s character had such an edge. Her voice held power through the pages. Amy Adams’ portrayal of Camille, however, is a little more subdued. I actually find her casual demeanor a refreshing take. I’ve empathized with her descent through alcoholism, as well as her temptation to exercise in self-harm. I like watching her navigate uncomfortably in her mother’s home. I like watching her shuffle with ease through Wind Gap’s pub. I like how her old “ripe” persona emerges when she’s attempting to get information from Richard, the sexy Kansas detective. There are things in Adams’ Camille that make for a great watch. She doesn’t come across as too edgy or too aggressive. She’s just a woman trying to find her way.

Also worth mentioning are the other two female leads:

Patricia Clarkson makes the perfect Adora. She’s so prim and proper and so easy to hate, yet so easy to want to know more about. I’ve also quite grown to love Eliza Scanlan’s portrayal of Camille’s younger half-sister, Amma, especially after the events of episode 5.

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Visuals

I haven’t seen any work by director Jean-Marc Vallée, before, but I’ve found his form of visual story-telling to be a wild ride. Many scenes of the show are bisected and slashed with jarring images of Camille’s tortured past. While confusing for some viewers, I’ve found the show entirely immersive.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this connected with a character in a television show before. Maybe it’s just the woman in me, but there are plenty of scenes where Camille ends up confronting raw and fragile emotion, and the quick jarring scenes of her memories slotted in with present-time always give me a little bit of anxiety, and that anxiety ends up woven in the story’s narrative. Words carved into Camille’s body often appear in various scenes.

GIRL. SCARED. TEETH. ASK!

Those words were effective in the novel, but it takes a careful eye to spot them all on the screen. As a viewer you find yourself searching for them, searching for little meaning. Other images become important as the series builds. Women in white dresses. Spiders. Roller skates. Bondage porn. They all start to bleed into the narrative. We all see what Camille sees. We live in her head.

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I find the visuals exciting because it’s the sort of storytelling that can’t be done to quite the same effect in literature, and it’s something that’s truly stunning about storytelling onscreen.

Sets

While Sharp Objects doesn’t have a large selection of very memorable sets, Adora Preaker’s house definitely hits the top. Although we don’t see much more than a few bedrooms and the front hallway and that gorgeous AF veranda, Adora’s house is definitely one that holds a bit of lore. Even seeing the window fans in Adora’s room make me feel the tension that exists in the household. It’s simply stunning, and honestly, I almost went out and bought the series tie-in book just for that green hallway wallpaper. It’s that pretty.

I like the repetitive shots of the train cars and town murals that convey the Wind Gap’s old ways and refusal to progress from them. Not to mention, the Calhoun Day episode is wonderfully elegant with lace parasols and a wonderful blend of old and new Americana. It’s been the most visually delightful episode to watch thus far, and I am losing it over that Temperley London dress that Adora wore. I’ve also gotta tip a hat at Elizabeth Perkin’s character, Jackie, who gets some pretty killer outfits too.

Score

I’ve never seen a show that uses music in quite the same way that Sharp Objects does. Most of it plays when Camille is listening to a phone that once belonged to roommate at the psychiatric hospital she checked into before the events of the series. Said roommate, Alice, used music as a form of escape. Camille eventually adopts the same method when she takes the phone to Wind Gap, but the music isn’t so much of an escape as is wanderlust into the dark landscape that Camille must trek through.

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Plot

To be honest, even for a “psychological thriller” not much actually happens in Sharp Objects. Both in the show and in the book. This is something that I really appreciate, especially when CGI-heavy superhero movies are all that ever seem to get any attention these days. The true success of shows like Sharp Objects (and True Detective and Better Call Saul, for that matter), isn’t so much the events, but how the events affect the characters.

Should Sharp Objects have more digging, more murders, more gore? Probably, but I don’t really care when you get a scene like the one where Adora tells Camille that she never loved her. You don’t need CGI with that. You just need a great story and great actors. Let the heartbreak ensue.

Sharp Objects the book or Sharp Objects the series?

An often-asked question about book-adaptations is whether to read the book or watch the movie (or in this case, series) first. The book will always be a more enriching, immersive experience, and this case is no different. However, with Sharp Objects, I’d say that the book will definitely aid any viewer. This is the first time I’ve ever felt that both forms go hand in hand. Some of the visuals can be confusing for non-readers. Reading the book before watching is like having the guide to find all the Easter Eggs.

And for that matter, ALWAYS read the book first. It’s always better to imagine your own literary world before you buy a book with the actors on the cover and the world already built for you.

What about you?

Are you watching Sharp Objects? Have you read the book? Are you enjoying the ride so far? Do you love the visuals or do you LOVE the visuals? Is detective Richard as sexy as you pictured in the book?

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Have Read: Books of Spring / Summer 2018

I spent a lot of my teenage years with my face between book pages, but as I’ve traversed through my adulthood I’ve had a lot less time to read. Being a writer, though, I know that reading is pretty much half of my job, so over the last few years I’ve really tried to read more dang books (usually before bed, and usually until I pass out). I’ve also gone back to reading physical books as opposed to my Kindle (because Jeff Bezos could use less money, amirite?)

I’ve missed bookstores as a whole, and have gone to Chapters quite a bit as of late to dig through discount piles and wander through the shelves like I did as a teenager with a full bank account and no bills to pay.

Most books take me a month or two to finish, but this spring/summer I’ve really dug into my “to read” pile.

This post is inspired by Julia Archer of Jules Just Write. I’ve always loved her yearly reading lists. So here’s mine for this year in progress. Just a quick head’s up that most of my links will head over to Chapters, as I’m currently in the process of trying to boycott Amazon, so if you’re in the US and click the links and don’t wanna buy Canadain and feel Canadian, then I’m sorry.

One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter – Saachi Koul

I don’t read a lot of non-fiction. My husband got me this book for Christmas because I’m a fan of Koul’s journalism and her appearances as a millennial panelist on plenty of CBC discussions have made me a big fan of her candid nature. This book is no exception. There are some wonderful essays in here about her life growing up as an Indian in Canada. I’m half-Filipino, so I related a lot to her openness about feeling “white” while being ethnic in a multicultural society, as well as her many many issues with body hair.

In A Dark, Dark Wood – Ruth Ware

Ruth Ware is everywhere and this is her first novel. The book is still on the bestseller shelves, so I figured I’d try it out, considering I’m yet another woman who just loves “psychological thrillers”. This one, though? Pretty dull. Characters were flat. Plot felt weak. Dialogue was cliche. Maybe I’m a buttface for not supporting other authors, but I’d kill to have four bestselling novels so I’m sure Ruth Ware is doing mighty fine.

All the Ghosts We’ve Always Had – Jules Archer

I had the great privilege of writing a blurb for Jules Archer’s debut chapbook and I cannot say enough good things about her writing. She writes flash fiction and minces the hell out of her words. It’s a nice quick read but a lovely bittersweet story of a woman facing the strain of new motherhood. Get a copy. Get one. You won’t’ regret it.

Find Her – Lisa Gardner

Got this for $8 at the Metrotown Chapters and read half of it on the way home from our Vancouver trip back in April. It’s your typical kidnapping story (a not-so-secret guilty pleasure of mine) but also part of a detective series (which I have trouble connecting to because detectives are just momentum for plot and never really characters I care to read about through a bunch of books). I probably wouldn’t have bought it had I known it was part of detective series, but I did enjoy it nonetheless. A little cliche but it was written well.

The Woman in Cabin 10 – Ruth Ware

I bought this book the same time as In A Dark, Dark Wood, and after the disappointment, I gave myself some time before slogging through this one. It’s definitely better than Ware’s first book, but I don’t think I’ll be picking up any of her other novels. Psychological thrillers all look the same but they fall along a spectrum and this one falls among the many that are of the Lifetime variety.

The Woman in the Window – A.J. Finn

This one excited me. The plot was intriguing. The protagonist was interesting. The writing was perfect. I loved the first two-thirds of the novel, but the ending felt pretty lackluster. As far as thrillers go this one is your standard affair but I felt there was enough quality to keep me reading. I liked the short chapters. I’ll read Finn’s next book for sure.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle – Shirley Jackson

After the slog of thrillers, I started getting frustrated. I’m currently writing a thriller myself and needed some better inspiration to inject a little horror into my book. Enter Shirley Jackson. I’m ashamed that I waited this long to read one of her novels. Seriously ashamed. This was magic. This is perfection. This was everything I needed to inspire me, and it’s one of my favourite reads this year. It definitely creeps up on you, makes you feel things, makes you rattled.

Normal – Graeme Cameron

Heard a lot of good things about this one, so I tried it out. It was a quick read. Well-written and eventful. It wasn’t without its flaws, (the back and forth between the kidnapper and the victim was super rad and THERE WAS NOT ENOUGH OF IT!) but if you like reading about serial killers and want to have a little fun, then this will work for you.

Horrorstör – Grady Hendrix

I love this book because it looks like an IKEA catalogue. It’s a wonderful horror comedy that I blasted through in a week but it’s more of a play on horror tropes than it is very serious. I enjoyed the ride but really missed having the meat of good characterization with this one.

Give Me Your Hand – Megan Abbott

I’m a big Megan Abbot fan. Just bought this one but I’ve heard great things. Unfortunately I wasn’t charmed by Abbot’s last novel, but I’m really loving the “past” portions of this book so far. She does female friendship like nobody else.

Your turn!

Got any books to suggest? What are you reading? Are psychological thrillers your jam? Are you having as hard a time finding quality ones as I am? Do you still buy from Amazon? What about Jeff Bezos? Does he have enough money yet? What about kidnapping stories? You into that sort of thing? I’d appreciate some recommendations if you have them.

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The Golden Age of Teenage Blogging

Remember in the early 00’s when blogging was about all your teen angst bullshit?

Remember when your blog was called “Life’s Garbage” and it was a place where maybe five strangers on the internet read about your bad day and you read their blogs and their bad days and you bonded over your mutual teenage angst over tagged links (rewards for leaving comments, the gold of all personal blogs!) and it was a back and forth trade of failed math tests and boys who didn’t like you and emo bands until you grew up and went to college and didn’t have time to complain anymore?

Sometimes I miss that. I miss feeling like I had a reason to write about my own experience.

Now I have this WordPress plugin that tells me if my posts are SEO-friendly, meaning if I’ve got enough eye-grabbing photos and links to other posts to keep visitors on my website and links to affiliates who will keep people interested and enough buzzwords that link to my web-friendly not too long title to keep the web search that links to my blog relevant. The readability needs to be just so. I need to have a focus keyword that describes what the post is about. I need a bloody meta description that describes the post for some other amalgamated search jargon that I DO NOT UNDERSTAND AND DO NOT CARE TO UNDERSTAND. There are all these checkboxes that my blogs need to fill. I have to turn them from red to green with my blog post.

Here’s all the crap I need to fix on my post thus far:

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The perfectionist in me will likely deal with all my flaws, but all this mentioned, I can freely admit that there are things I miss about my teen angst days. The 00’s wasn’t even really early days for the internet, but it was still a time when you felt like you actually “found” stuff on it. A band nobody else listened to? An episode of The Office that hadn’t yet been deleted from YouTube? A person who also couldn’t get a boyfriend no matter how many hot low-resolution selfies they took with their webcam and their bedroom in the background? That kind of magic doesn’t exist in an online universe built around square images.

I’ve wanted to delve into lifestyle blogging for a while now, but that shit involves real commitment, and the only thing I’m really committed to slaving over for extended amounts of time is my writing. Everything else must be instant gratification. Often times when I spin myself into an anxiety trap about not having more followers or likes on my Instagram, I remember back to wanting more comments on my Life’s Garbage blog posts.

I named the blog Life’s Garbage after my favourite band in the 10th grade: Garbage.

I used to be obsessed with this awful Canadian show called Train 48 about 12 people who ride public transit in Toronto. None of my friends were fans but I thought the guy named Zach was super hot, and one Halloween I dressed up as a stockbroker after the Pete character who I also somehow had a weird crush on.

I once bought this lime green shirt that I was convinced had changed my perspective of myself.

At one point in time, Billy Talent was the only band that meant anything to me, mainly because the single for their first video, “Try Honesty” was filmed in an abandoned psychiatric hospital and I felt like they understood the darkness in me.

In 12th grade, I had a spare block where I spent every day in the empty Drafting classroom so I could build a three-story model of a truly-ugly McMansion where all my friends would live. It had an accusation parlor and a movie theater and a bar in the basement with a hidden wall that lead to a grow-op room for us to grow marijuana (because how else would we afford a house like that in an economy that was about to crash?).

I know all this SEO shit is important, but it’s restrictive. The creative in me can’t handle having to restructure my words. Currently, my plug-in is telling me that this post’s readability “needs improvement”.  I’m not using subheadings, even though my text is long. 40.6% of my sentences contain more than 20 words. That’s above the recommended maximum of 25%. 17.6% of the sentences use a passive voice. This last one I can understand, being a fiction writer and all. Nobody wants to read passive prose. But this is a bloody blog post, and a passive one at that, and I know at this point that I should just delete this damn plug-in and write without guilt, but the internet is a special beast now.

They have courses on blogging now. So you can write correctly. So you can take the right pictures. So you can manufacture the best content just like low-wage Chinese factory line workers.

So this, in a nutshell, is why I have such a difficult time blogging.

I’m too lazy.

My anxiety is too rich for this line of work.

Still, what is being a writer if it’s not living with stress and anxiety 98% of the time?

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Moodboard: A Parisian Christmas

Ever since I wrote my short story, “Tourist”, I have had an obsession with Paris. The city symbolizes romance in a way that is the worst kinds of cliche, but that’s what I love about it. The hype is overdone. I have no desire to actually visit the city. Yet, I was once a little girl with big dreams, and I still like to keep in touch with her.

When I think of Paris I think of clear skies, of bright flowers and tiny sidewalks and pastel treats. I don’t care if it’s not real. I don’t care if a bunch of homeless people hang out beneath the Eiffel Tower (as a coworker who has been once told me, a tidbit that I couldn’t help but put into my favourite line of “Tourist”. I still love my Paris calendars with their over-filtered images. I still love my Eiffel Tower snowglobe. I still love my “Take me to Paris” mug. (Don’t actually take me, though. It’ll ruin the magic.)

Now that it’s Christmas again and the decorations are out in full-force in every store, I always find myself gravitating to the romantic pink colour schemes. While my own personal Christmas decor is more of a mid-century traditional style, I do love making pink-infused Christmas displays at work. Pink and white and gold are my go-to for romantically feminine displays. The colours make me think of fresh snowfall over a city. I think of the golden light of streetlights above casting an aura over the white snow-covered streets. Normally I hate winter, but in this context, when the sidewalks are freshly blanketed and the skies are hazed with clouds, all I want to do is don my pink wool coat and buy macarons from the grocery store.

Except I won’t, because they’re like $1.25 a piece and I ain’t paying that much for a treat that likely won’t taste as amazing as it looks.

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