Diana Pharaoh Francis's Blog, page 21

Writing Retreat

Tomorrow I will head off to the Rainforest Writers Village in the Olympic Rainforest. I’ve done some really good words done the last couple of years there. I’m hoping this one goes even better. My back has been giving me serious pain the last couple of weeks, so I hope it does okay. I see the chiro before I leave tomorrow. Let’s hope that does me really well. I plan to take an ice pack just in case. And ibuprofen.

In the meantime, I’ll remind you to read some good books and eat some good chocolate. Or cake. Or both. And pie. Cherry pie with ice cream.

The connectivity at the retreat is exceedingly bad, so I probably won’t post until I get back. Oh, and I finish the copy edits for Whisper of Shadows. So look for me next week.

Also, I sent a newsletter out last night. If you didn’t get yours, let me know. And check your spam filter.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

A Path series announcement

I’m pleased to announce that Open Road is going to re-release my Path books as ebooks. I don’t know the timetable as of yet, but I will let you know as soon as I do. I will hopefully be able to also put together a print version for those who might want one.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

The Incubus Job release is only a couple weeks away

I’m getting nervous, but the good news is that as of today, preorder links are up at Smashwords and Kobo. I’m hoping to have Nook and iBooks up within a few days. Go to the Incubus page for direct links.

I had a good writing day. My back and neck and head are finally starting to improve, thanks to the chiropractor. Though she’s having a hard time with my back because it’s so tight. Tomorrow I will have a massage in order to loosen it enough to adjust. Or so’s my hope.

Anyhow, the good writing day. It was fun. I like it when writing is fun. I was working on the fourth Diamond City Magic book (the third–Whisper of Shadows–will be out in April).

And here’s a little snippet for you from The Incubus Job to whet your appetite:

“Did you know something like that could fit inside such a little skin?” I asked Law, backing up some more. I shoved more energy into my shields and reached down to fiddle with the chain on the nearest goat. I was hoping that once freed, they’d be able to escape.

In the meantime, Hana—or So’la because, let’s face it, Hana was now just a skin suit on the carpet—swelled like one of those sponges that are the size of a postage stamp until you get them wet and they turn into a small car. Its skin was gun-barrel blue, and it appeared to be sheathed inside a thick layer of Vaseline. I was willing to bet that the goo would eat a person’s skin.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

Sunday with nachos

And football. The game has been less than interesting. The commercials not particularly funny or entertaining. The halftime show–the Boy of Size and I decided that the boys group was wearing clothes made of shiny plastic bags, and the girls group was wearing purses. I’m not sure which won the dance-off. Lady Gaga rocked the hell out of the national anthem. The nacho cheese dip we made was good, so that’s something. So instead I read. Well, while sort of watching. And now the cheese dip keeps repeating on me, and that is unpleasant. I want fruit salad. With blackberries and blueberries and raspberries. Oh, and fresh peaches. Can I have that please?

I did manage to take a walk in the sunshine today. We’re going to have a few days of it and I’m hoping to get outside and poke around in the garden beds. I’ve got some things blooming already outside–primroses and this other white flower. I love the Daphne bushes. The scent is so lovely.

My head continues to hurt. And weirdly a wrist. No idea what I did there. My head has been hurting for more than a week now. I went to the chiro, but I have to go back because I was too tight to fully adjust. I’m sore from that. I am uncertain if I it’s really the back, if I may be sick, or if my hormones or something are out of wack. I have a doctor’s appointment for next Friday, so if the chiro doesn’t help before, I should find out. I can tolerate a lot of pain. In fact my first back doc, upon seeing the MRI, wondered how come I was still walking around. Even childbirth wasn’t so bad. Though my second back explosion was pure hell. But when it comes to headaches, I’m a total wimp. WIMP. And no painkillers seem to have much impact. Well, it might help more if I actually took them more than once a day, but I don’t want to mask symptoms. If that makes sense. Probably not.

Wonder if Peyton Manning is going to retire.

Oh look, the game is almost over. and the end is foregone now.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

Not entirely a book review, but it is

I just finished the third book in Lisa Shearin’s SPI files. They are so fun. I read the first one, The Grendel Affair, when it first came out. I bought the second, The Dragon Conspiracy, and then somehow forgot about it. Then The Brimstone Deception came out last month and I realized I had some reading to do. The happy thing is that I had two to read back-to-back and that was so fabulous. The unhappy thing is that I don’t have another to chew through. Damn.

Anyhow, the SPI books take place in New York City and revolve around a supernatural non-official police force. There’s a lot of police procedure, adventure, snark, and a hint of romance. The character interactions are just so much fun. Smart and funny and serious and in the latest book, you get to meet the great great great . . . grandaughter of the witch who built Hansel’s and Gretel’s gingerbread house. Only Kitty’s not a child-eater. You’ve got a wide cast of characters, and a variety of cool stuff going on. I really recommend you just go get all three, stock up on some munchies and your drink of choice, and hunker down for a good long, lovely read. Really.

And then, because she’s just so much fun, watch Jeanne Robertson. A very fun, very clean comedian. You’ll laugh.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

A couch!!!

Actually two couches, but we have them! After a month without, we have them. And the dogs are so happy. Kids are too. And me too. It’s so very nice to actually have them instead of sitting in camp chairs. It’s like a little miracle!!!

Yeah, I know, lots of exclamation points, but I’m that happy. I can’t even tell you how happy the dogs are. They have us sitting farther back from the TV, which is kind of weird, but there’s a lot more open room on the floor for the dogs to wrestle around.

Couches look like leather, but are made from microfiber that apparently will clean up with soap and water. I’m hoping it holds up to kids and dogs. Also, boy of size has grown again. He’s almost 6’3″ I have no idea how that happened. And he’s still going up.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

Writing in Faith Hunter’s Rogue Mage world

This is oh so cool and now I can make the announcement:

 

Have you read Faith Hunter‘s Rogue Mage series? If not, you should. It is an amazing trilogy. Except . . . There’s news. The trilogy is getting some extras and I get to be part of it!!!

Anthology Set in the World of Faith Hunter’s Rogue Mage Series

Charlotte, N.C., Feb. 1, 2016

Bella Rosa Books is pleased to announce two e-book anthologies and a trade paperback omnibus set in the world of Faith Hunter’s Rogue Mage series. Editor is Spike Y Jones. Writers contracted to write short stories for the anthologies are: Diana Pharaoh Francis, Lucienne Diver, Tamsin L. Silver, Ken Schrader, Lou J Berger, Christina Stiles, Spike Y Jones, Melissa McArthur, Jean Rabe, Misty Massey, and Faith Hunter.

The two ebooks are titled Trials and Tribulations, and the trade paperback omnibus is titled Triumphant. They will be published by a new line of original and reprinted spec fiction and fantasy, through Bella Rosa Books, called Lore Seekers Press.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

Couchless life

We’ve been without a couch for over 3 weeks now. That means sitting in camp chairs until the one we ordered arrives. The new one will be extra durable to deal with my extra-destructive family. It should come in a week or so. I’m hoping this week, but chances are I won’t get so lucky. Lacking a couch is deeply upsetting for the dogs. They cannot follow their usual routine and they cannot lay on me and they aren’t afraid of telling me about their sadness. With lots of big-eyed stares and whimpers and moans. As a compromise, when the rest of the fam is playing video games, I retreat to the bedroom and let them join me on the bed. This helps them. Especially since they can look out the windows from the bed and that is happy-making for them.

As I mentioned, my first self-pubbed book, The Incubus Job, will be releasing March 1. I’ll be talking about it for the next month (every other Thursday) on Magical Words. I began last week with this post. If you have questions or comments, say so here or there.

I have to say that I am so tired of the presidential race. Then some newsperson said that today we’re at the starting line. I had to wonder where they hell they’ve been because while this is the start of the primary season, this ‘race’ has been going on FOREVER and I want it to stop. I would so have a different opinion if Jon Stewart was still on The Daily Show and I could at least get entertainment from it. Trevor Noah is okay, but he doesn’t dig as hard into the hypocrisy and crazy on both sides. He’s more there for the sort of easy laugh. Stephen Colbert has been doing a pretty good job at puncturing the stupidity, but I miss Jon Stewart. I wish I had HBO for John Oliver.

 

 

 

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

What I wonder

I was wondering today if, in Stairway to Heaven, when Robert Plant sings “There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving,” whether that is perchance a reference to the Grey Havens. It wouldn’t be the first time that Zeppelin referenced Tolkien. Take for instance, Ramble On. “T’was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair.

But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her.” I mean, the stairway to heaven leads upward, so looking to the west and crying for leaving, really suggest something more like Grey Havens. I like to think so anyhow.

I was reading through a couple chapters of Whisper of Shadows (book 3 in Diamond City Magic) and I was really pleased. I’ve been worrying (see my last post on Imposter Syndrome) and I’m at least willing to entertain the idea that this book might be good. Not entirely convinced, but yeah. Trying to get there.

So a small snippet for you (it will release on April 15th!!!)

I had to get out of here. I lay face down with my head twisted to the right, my hands curved up toward my face. I pushed up with all my might. Nothing. Why I thought I’d be able to get out now better than before, I had no idea. Logic wasn’t actually something I was using at the moment. I pressed my head into the cold cement floor and closed my eyes. As fear rose up over me again, I forced myself to count breaths inside and then out, and I didn’t let myself think of anything else. Slowly I found myself relaxing. If you could call ratcheting down from overload to just completely terrified. I kept breathing. It’s not like I was going anywhere.

 

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.

Depression and Writing and Imposter Syndrome

I’ve been thinking about writing this for awhile, but haven’t been ready. I’ve decided to take the plunge.

Apparently I have depression. (I’m going to come back to the ‘apparently’ in that phrase). I used to work in a toxic work environment where I was constantly gaslighted by colleagues and the administration. I was an easy target, because I didn’t have a huge ego and I tended to be more apologetic. Also, for seven years, I was working toward tenure and I watched two colleagues in my department get shafted for going against the grain, and one time when I wasn’t invited to the department meeting in which one colleague was discussed, I was told “we didn’t invite you because we knew you’d support him and didn’t want you to risk you tenure.” Yes, overt threat. Another time I was told if my evaluations didn’t come up, I’d have to be let go. This after I’d been out for pregnancy leave and one of my colleagues, angry at the fact that I had the gall to leave detailed daily course activities and assignments (I thought this was helpful), told my students that my syllabus and approach was crap. The result of that was that all the students showed up in my office telling me my class was garbage, I was doing it wrong, demanding too much, and I had no choice to change it or face (illegal) sanctions from my department.

It didn’t help that I suffered from Imposter Syndrome. “First described by psychologists Suzanne Imes, PhD, and Pauline Rose Clance, PhD, in the 1970s, impostor phenomenon occurs among high achievers who are unable to internalize and accept their success. They often attribute their accomplishments to luck rather than to ability, and fear that others will eventually unmask them as a fraud.”

My first instinct is to point out that I’m not a high achiever. But if I were to look at someone else, I’d say with the same qualifications, somebody else would have been a very high achiever. I’ve BA, MA, and a PhD. I’ve written and published in my academic field and I’ve been a successful professor. I achieved full professor rank in approximately seven years. I had a sabbatical in my 14 years at UMW. I have published 13 novels, with two more coming in the next three months. I have two children and a solid marriage (married 25 years). I am a pretty good cook, I’m a good friend, a good writer, and a good person.

I say that, but squirm in doing so and I would readily argue or not say those things under just about any circumstances. It wouldn’t be the bragging factor. It would be the Imposter Syndrome. Even with depression, I can’t claim to fully have it. That’s the ‘apparently’ from the first sentence. I even have Imposter Syndrome when it comes to illness. I’m not really that bad, that sick, and, and depression only exacerbates IS because at its core, depression makes you feel like a failure.

But let’s go back to my history. Toxic work environment that got progressively worse. The depression started setting in during the last few years at UMW. I started becoming short tempered with my family, I wanted to isolate, I slept a lot–when I wasn’t having insomnia. I cried and my stomach was constantly in knots. There was more. My doc put me on citalopram, which helped with the anxiety elements. But while it took the edge of, it didn’t really tackle the depression issue. I’ve always been a pretty happy-go-lucky person. I didn’t sweat the small stuff. Only as time went on, I started sweating everything.

Finally we moved and I left that job. Immediately I felt better. Part of it was living out of constant winter. Part of it was just not facing that toxicity. Then my son got ill. For a year and a half, he went through innumerable tests. He suffered horrendous bouts of vomiting and incredible pain. He started having psychogenic non-epileptic seizures. He was given a ton of medications that did no good. We saw so many doctors. Finally we got a diagnosis and a program of treatment. It worked. It wasn’t instant. By the time his two-year sick anniversary rolled around, he was doing really well.

I was not. With the relief of seeing him improve, I started sinking down. I still don’t want to call it depression. It didn’t feel as hopeless and dark as I’ve heard ‘true’ sufferers endure. But there’s a spectrum and it was very difficult for me and it is depression. I just don’t like suggesting that I was anywhere near as someone who really suffers. Back to Imposter Syndrome.

Writing is a profession particularly susceptible to IS. Writers see bad reviews and internalize them. Good reviews don’t make near the impact they should. We doubt ourselves constantly. We constantly think what we write is crap. We always worry. Add into that the fact that many of us don’t make a living wage, then money stress starts to grind at us. It’s easy to constantly doubt your abilities, even after you have published a lot of books.

Depression rides IS like a racehorse. You tell yourself to suck it up and deal with it. Stop whining. Stop crying. Just do it, for goodness sake. It’s not life and death. Why can’t you just pull your shit together? Then you feel the need to hide how your feeling. And that need only contributes to your internal understanding that this is shameful and should be hidden. If anyone found out, they’d know you were a worthless piece of trash.

Oh, and did I mention that changing hormones can mess with all of that?

So there I was, totally submerged in IS and depression, and unable to see it. I knew that this wasn’t me. I went in for my yearly physical and I guess I must have mentioned something. The doc suggested Wellbutrin. I balked. She called in the prescription and said try it and see if it made a difference. It was a beginning dose.

It actually did make me feel better. There’s an initial euphoria where you just feel energetic and happy. This felt wonderful. But then I started feeling more anxious, more doubting, more short tempered, and generally returning to the depression. I saw the doc and she said I should try the next level dose. I refused. Said I’d like to see how this played out for awhile longer. It was that suck it up, stop whining, pull on some big girl panties mind set. It didn’t help. It only made things worse, because when your brain chemistry is fucked up, you can’t just tough your way out of it. A week later I called and said, let’s do it. For any of my friends, I would have urged them to treat themselves. I have an illness. It has to be treated for my own sanity and health.

That dose seems to have done the trick. I find myself having moments of short temper and out-of-proportion anger, but it dissolves in minutes. I let it go. I am not nearly as impatient. I’m far more sympathetic. I am more myself. I like being myself. That last one is weird. I didn’t realize that I didn’t like being with myself very much. I didn’t enjoy myself. Now I do. I also don’t beat myself up for all the things I used to. I don’t attack myself.

The reason I decided to talk about this is because of the shame factor, and that urge to hide. To fake it. To wear a mask and pretend that you’re normal, because somewhere you feel that there is something terribly wrong with you. And not wrong as in illness, but fundamentally wrong/broken/failed.  Not quite human. So I’m defying that. I’m saying I have depression and I’m saying that is really what it is. I’m still working on the IS. No medication is going to cure that. But the other . . . I’m more and more myself every day.

Originally published at www.dianapfrancis.com. You can comment here or there.