The sound of the wind

They turned off the power yesterday afternoon due to the winds. One minute I was working on a motion listening to the television hum in the background, and then poof, it was eerily quiet. 

I rushed to the Dollar Tree to get ice for the freezers and then to Target to get flashlights and a cordless charger. I found our lanterns. Only one was charged. Always prepared, I sent the revision homework I had done over the weekend for my online MFA class with the internet at Starbucks.

My husband came home early and brought McDonald's. We played Yahtzee when it got dark by candlelight. He turned on the fireplace because it was a bit chilly. I went upstairs to read by lantern light and almost finished a book.

By 8 pm, I was asleep. I woke up at 230 am when the lights came back on. I cheered in my head. Halloween was back.

It's 3 am and the winds are still blowing. My mind is frayed. I think about Matthew Perry's death. He was only 54. I am 52. You can go anytime. They say he was doing well and that he was working on a screenplay project called Mattman.

I have so many dreams left. Will I get to them? I always thought I would live to at least 80. But you never know. You just never know. The power can go out in your life, in your house, and in your heart. 

And sometimes, it happens suddenly, without any warning at all. 

A choice

It's almost 4 am. I'm writing. My husband and the dog are both snoring.

My brain is spinning. Everything is so packed in. Thoughts swirl from yesterday. Work had me in a tizzy. I've realized that I pick up energies very easily. 

But this morning I breathe. And breathe. My life is good. I'm good. A good friend of mine that asked me to be in a literary anthology sends me a complimentary email about my story. It's a new story. Not overworked to death. It's hybrid as far as genre, memoir and poetry. My MFA class wasn't sure about the hybrid form but I liked it and left it as is. 

It's satisfying when people get my work. Especially when it's people I admire.

I guess that's what I get from writing that I don't get elsewhere. Public defense is a mostly thankless job. The stress is enormous, and when you do well, no one really acknowledges it. That's okay. But I need acknowledgement and appreciation and I get that from writing. 

Days like today, when I'm up at 4 am contemplating my life, are important. I think to myself, asking internally, why do I still practice law when creative writing is what I love and probably what I'm best at? 

The answer: It's because I choose to. 

I lay in bed and tell myself that in my head, over and over. It's a choice. I'm not trapped there. It's a choice. A choice.

Day off

I have the day off and I plan on keeping busy. British baking show at 5 am. Breakfast with my mom at 8 am and I need to help her set up her television with Hulu. Then I'll read for my podcast Wednesday. Then a lunch meeting with a writer friend. Then pick up Chewbacca's medicine, and then go home and chill.

It sounds like a lot. And there's more I might do. I bought a cowgirl dress and it's a little snug on the top so I might ship it back. I have to return my cable boxes to UPS. But maybe I will do that Wednesday at lunch. And I have to get ready for Disneyland on Tuesday. 

I've just realized I've written my to do list via my blog. It's pedantic perhaps and tedious but this is my blog so just deal. I'm kidding. For those of you who read this, I suppose I do like to have an idea, or a thought that is the theme of my posts. Gratitude. Creativity. Love. Loss. Fear. Hope. 

But today, I'm saying forget all that. The rain is pounding on my roof and it's 5:55 am and I want another espresso. 

Perhaps that's the theme of all this. The moments fleet. They pass. Do as I say not as I do. Don't let time pass you by in a flurry. Just sit and relax and drink that espresso while holding the hand (or for me this AM, petting my dog's head) of the one you love.

Doing

Often, I am asked how I do so much. And I don't really have an answer. 

I think the only way I accomplish everything I want to do creative wise is that it doesn't feel like work. Unlike my day job as a deputy public defender, where I know my duties to my client must be met, and I feel the stress and pressure, with my side gigs there's no pressure. Everything is done because I want to do it.  

I've recently realized I write best without an end goal in mind. I do well on assignment so taking a class helps. And I'm a quick writer. I've learned not to overthink it and to trust my own editing and reader gut about whether it works. I know when it's good usually. And my best pieces story wise come out close to fully formed. Essays on the other hand take more revision. 

Another example is my podcast. I really enjoy reading the books and interviewing people. Also, I truly love doing the promotion and creating the graphics. Thankfully, I have been able to cut down on the prep after more than fifty interviews and so I read the books and just go with the flow conversation wise. I try to be present and listen.

The exception to the "no pressure" creative wise is when I plan events. I've cut down on them because I know my tendency to over aim for perfection. And I hate disappointing myself and others and there is no perfection with curating literary readings. You never know how many will show up and how it will go. And I do get very stressed out. Very very stressed out. That said, I love literary events and every single one has been a joy the day of. The stress is in the lead up.  

So for now, I am focusing on the writing, the podcasting and my own performing while leaving the event side for when I retire perhaps. I also love applying for big events like AWP where they do the infrastructure and this year, I'm on two panels. 

I guess that the ultimate answer to how I do everything I do is that I'm a hard worker and very obsessive at times and often work at 4 am on projects. When I focus on something, I lose myself. I disappear. It's a blessing and a curse. But I'm a lucky person to be able to do what I do. I adore being friends with the writers I admire. 

Ultimately, it's a gift to be part of a community I so love rather than just a reader fan girl. Writers are the best people in the universe. And they make great friends for life.

Powerlessness

The thing I've been thinking about recently is how little power we have over what's happening in the world. Horrible things are happening. I feel like they can take over. The images and thoughts just keep running through my head.

Then, I listened to a podcast interview of Judas Priest's Rob Halford, a heavy metal god, and he talked about how he prays every day. He said it makes him feel peaceful. I agree. I love to pray. To lose myself in it. To focus on something other than all of this sadness in the world is a gift and it reminds me that all we have sometimes is our prayer and intention.

Intention is everything. How do you approach your day? How do you approach other people? Are you approaching life with love? Are you approaching others with love? 

How I approach my day makes all the difference. I often notice that my energy is a superpower, for good or for bad. Stephen King's novel "Carrie" shows the power negative energy carries and while exaggerated, it is too true in a metaphorical way. So I know I have to use my thoughts, energy and power for good. I have to. 

This morning, I'm just going to pray, meditate and approach today with kindness and with the intention to raise the vibration of the universe with my intentions to do so. This is the season of the witch after all. 

Up and Away

Today will be a good day I tell myself. I had a great weekend. Saturday, I saw my friend liz gonzález read at the San Bernardino library. She read stories about the city of San Bernardino and about her and her family and it was so inspiring. It reminded me of how much writing matters.  You see, this is important work that moves us. It's nostalgic yes, but also resonant and emotional.

We memoirists are not just writers, we are historians, and we memorialize moments of time and place.

Speaking of time, it's 7 am and because it's Monday, I gotta get to work. My day job as a public defender in Riverside is one I still love. I'm good at it. I enjoy it. It makes me happy to see my clients doing well. Yet. Yet. Yet. It's no longer my identity. I'm changing and evolving on the weekends and early mornings, just waiting for the time when I can fully spread my wings full-time as a writer. And fly. 

Dammit, one day I will fly. Up, up and away, high into the clouds to see the world and write about it. 

One day. 

Just let go

Recently, I read an essay on Substack by Junot Diaz. In it, he talked about the pressure we all put on ourselves as creatives, and how it is important to just have fun in our writing and go easy on ourselves.

I realized soon thereafter, that I do my best work when I'm not putting myself "under pressure". I have had a good run recently of writing that I really like. I've written some essays and stories for my MFA program as assignments for workshopping. I just let it flow. 

I must say that because I'm 52, I take all workshopping with a grain of salt. If I like something as is, I might not even revise at all. But I've been lucky to have a great teacher and fellow students that are very supportive. Their comments are helpful. 

Yet, still I remind myself daily that I know who I am as a writer. Not every writer will like my style. And that's okay.

It's also okay that my YA novel has stalled a bit. I love the idea. The characters speak to me. I feel that it will come when it comes. So until then? Just letting go. Breathing and writing. Always.

Write On

I continue to write. And write. And write. 

I am much better when on task. I've submitted two essays I wrote for my MFA program to places and they were both accepted. One went fast track on the radio and another is coming out in an anthology.

What people don't tell you about writing when you're starting out is three fold. 

First, it's addicting. The highs are higher than anything you've ever felt. Writing a good story is better than any drug. You'll want to do it more and more. You'll lose yourself in it while concurrently finding yourself.

Second, you get out what you put in community wise. That's because writers are very supportive of one another. We know the job (or passion) is thankless monetary wise most times. Yet, everything you give out to support others in their writing will be given back to you ten times. I can't tell you how many gifts of opportunity I've been gifted by other writers. 

When I was first starting out, I remember my teacher, Writer Jo Scott Coe, inviting me to read with her in San Bernardino and I even got paid! It was such an act of generosity as I hadn't published much, just a couple of stories in journals. And I recall my friend, Writer liz gonzález, having me read at her book party. Those opportunities boosted my confidence. They made me realize my voice mattered. They were everything. 

Finally, you'll start to define yourself as a writer. Everything else will start to fade away. No longer will you tell people, in a booming voice, that, "I'm a lawyer!" Instead, you'll say softly, as if you can't fully believe it yourself, "I'm a writer." 

Eventually, you'll peel back your own skin via your pen and find a new human. You will find that you have evolved and changed and you'll never ever be the same.

But most importantly, you'll never want it to end. 

Family and rummy time

My big sis Roberta is flying down from Kansas City, Missouri today. I'm picking her up from the airport at 11 am. The last few days have been a flurry of activity. I've cleaned the house from top to bottom except my podcast studio which is a bedroom that is also my closet, and right now it's a twilight zone area where one might get swallowed by the piles of dresses I'm organizing (theoretically). 

Even though I have not seen Roberta in person for a few years, we talk often on the phone. I always call her when I need someone to cheer me up while calming me down. She's chill like that and super nurturing. 

If my dad was here, he would be so excited. My sister Roberta visiting is like my dad visiting in a way. She reminds me of him, mostly in the way she plays rummy, i.e., ruthlessly and callously. Being as nice as she is, it's amazing that she has no mercy when it comes to cards. I'm stopping by the dollar tree to get a deck (which I'll bless for luck) and when I say there's gonna be a lot of shit talking, I'm not exaggerating.

So Daddy, if you're looking down. Send me some aces along with a joker or two.