Starting over... again

Anyone remember Project: Happiness?

It was supposed to be my focus during 2012 — a chance to remake my life and rebuild myself, a chance to start over. It didn’t get very far, despite a lot of thought, much of which was shared on this blog. Somehow, I got derailed.

Part of it was Striking Distance , the toughest book I’ve ever written. I have a tendency to lose myself in my stories emotionally, but this was more than that. I came face to face with my physical and emotional limits while writing this novel. Because writing was such a struggle for me, I made it my No. 1 priority. In doing so, I hurt myself — and that made writing harder. It was a downward spiral.

The result is perhaps my best I-Team story to date, but that doesn’t justify or make up for fourteen long months of treating myself like shit.

I tried in the immediate aftermath of finishing the book to be kinder to myself, to get away from the computer, to do things I enjoy and restore my sense of happiness. Benjamin and I went up into the mountains several times, disconnecting entirely, and enjoying the amazing beauty of what is kind of like our own backyard. And it felt great.


Photo: Mud Lake near Nederland
I kept very busy in June after turning the book in and on into July, catching up on almost a year’s worth of neglected projects, heading off to RomCon and then RWA.

While at RWA, a friend touched on a sore spot that drew an emotional response from me. This led to a personal conversation lasting hours that left me feeling shredded, raw, and exposed. It felt to me like my friend was saying, “Quit living in the past. Get over it, and get your shit together.” I know that’s not exactly the content of my friend’s message or how the message was delivered, but that’s how it felt.

I cried for two days after I got home.

It’s not that I haven’t tried to get “quit living in the past.” In fact, I think I’ve fought pretty damned hard to make something of my life. But when your past includes violence, sexual assault, being attacked in your own home by men with knives, falling off a mountain, and living with physical limitations and almost indescribable chronic pain for years, it’s not so easy to “get over it.” No one who has not lived through those situations can understand them. No one who has not lived with severe chronic pain — my friend has not — can understand how much of your joy, your energy, your life it steals.

And yet this kick-in-the-ass conversation, no matter how much it hurt, had a point. This is my life, and every day I don’t claim it and shape it for myself, is a day lost that I can never get back again. Since I have no idea how long my life will last, I need to focus on being happy not in some theoretical future, but right fucking now.

Now.

I had to look at how far I’d come in the past couple years and admit that, although I’d written a novella and a novel, my personal circumstances and my quality of life hadn’t improved. I remembered Project Happiness — yes, I’d kind of forgotten about it. In fact, I’d given up without even realizing it.

I also realized that Project: Happiness was flawed in that it was a plan, but it wasn’t an action. I was thinking about things, but I wasn’t doing much. Change requires some forethought, yes, but more than that it requires action. I realized I couldn’t wait until my next book is done or my house is clean and organized or there is a royalty check in the bank to start taking care of myself. I realized I needed to do that now.

I was talking to my beautiful beloved sister about this when I had a pretty huge realization.

An image of a butterfly pinned inside a museum display case came to my mind, and I realized it was a metaphor for how I felt about myself and my life.

I have put off for so long things I want to do because work needed to be done. My life and who I am has been about some “to do” list that never gets any smaller. I want to get back into drawing and painting. I want to quilt again. I want to get back into shape and feel healthier. I want a rich life that’s about more than writing, a life that inspires and supports writing because of all the great experiences I have. And, most of all, I want to return to Denmark and travel.

Photo: Rådhuspladsen in downtown Copenhagen, my favorite city
I kept thinking there would come a day when I would magically have the time and freedom to do these things. But it has come to me that I have to make the time and give myself the freedom to do these things — or they will never happen. The rich life I want can’t happen if I don’t let it happen.

I’m pinned down because I pinned myself down. I have the freedom to live the life I want, and if not now, then when?

Upstairs on my bedroom wall is the artwork my kids made while in school. I love child art. There’s something so creatively fresh and compelling about it. One of my prized items is a collage by my younger son titled, “The Butterfly Who Flashed His Wings.” The words are written in a child’s scrawl above the painted paper butterfly you see at the top of this post.

It’s time to free myself and flash my wings.

Writing can no longer be more important than I, myself, am. Exercise and healthy eating have to be No. 1 right up there with getting enough sleep. I have to have a social life, time with friends, time to reflect and do other things. If I don’t have these things, my writing well will dry up, and so will I.

This is not a plan or simply rumination. These are actions. I’ve been going to the gym or taking a long hike or walk almost every day and have lost more than 10 pounds this month. I’ve been eating better. I’ve been reconnecting with friends — and making plans to spend more time with them.  I am taking “weekends” now, days when I don’t write but do something fun. Yes,  fun . I’m spending less time on the Internet. I’m trying to do things that are difficult and physically painful for me for the sake of feeling more independent. And it feels good!

Perhaps most exciting, I am starting to plan for a trip to Sweden, Denmark, and France this spring to visit family and friends. I want to spend time with my sister in Stockholm, to spend time with dear Danish friends I’ve known and loved since I was 17, to hang with Benjamin in France and visit the battlefields of World War I. Whether it will happen depends in part on things that aren’t entirely under my control, but I will do all I can to be airborne by May 2014.

I will be writing again starting tomorrow, working on the erotic prequel to Striking Distance , which I have titled First Strike . It tells the story of how Laura Nilsson and Javier “Cobra” Corbray, the couple from Striking Distance , meet in a hotel restaurant in Dubai and then spend the next three days in bed together having mind-blowing “no strings attached” sex — only to go their separate ways wishing there were strings.

I plan to have First Strike, an erotic e-novella, out to you by Oct. 1 so that you can get to know Laura and Javier intimately before their book comes out. And though I will still give my emotions over to my writing, I will actively work to keep balance in my life and to feel good each day no matter how many words I put on the page.

For the first time in a long time, I feel excited not about plans that might be years down the road but by the opportunities I have today .

Coming soon: 
Excerpts from Striking Distance
Some I-Team games
A MacKinnon’s Rangers audiobook giveaway
The cover reveal for First Strike