Ramblings: Self-told lies

Ramblings: Self-told lies

Standing on the outside looking in can make it easy to judge, easy to say ‘why didn’t they do it this way?’ or ‘how could they not see it?’. It is easy to see what should happen, when you are far enough away to see the whole picture, to see the threads that bind and twist. To see the whole of the winding path.

It isn’t so easy when you are in the thick of it, when those threads are bound and twisting about you. When all you see is the path at your feet. It isn’t easy to see the problems, when your heart and mind refuse to acknowledge they could ever possibly exist. We blind ourselves to the truth because the every day lies are far less painful and easier to hold on to. It takes someone strong to reach out beyond those lies, to see the truth and take hold of it.

It is easy to say that they should do it, yet not so easy to actually do.

The lies that we tell ourselves are pervasive, insidious, and we don’t even realize that we are doing it most of the time. Or we justify it. Don’t tell a story because you don’t want people to judge, not realizing that maybe you should stop and think about why and what you don’t want judged. That perhaps avoiding the story that might clang alarm bells in the head of a trusted confidante is a flag in and of itself.

We trick ourselves into believing that where we are is always where we need to be, when sometimes it is just a stepping stone. Or a stoplight turned red. Or even both, one after the other. We don’t want to leave the comfortable, the known, so we tell ourselves that we are happy here. Until there comes a time when that lie becomes too big, when it threatens to overwhelm us and instead it smashes into us and falls apart. We fall apart. Our lives fall apart.

But that’s the thing about people. Our lives can, and will, fall apart. Yet we keep on going. We keep on trying to make sense of it all, to move forward to something brighter, to something bigger than ourselves. It pulls us onward even when we dig our heels in and say ‘Stop!’. At least, for most of us. There are, always and sadly, those who dig in too deep, whose shouts are too loud, to be overcome. Whose self-told lies will never be shattered.

For the rest of us, even our darkest moments can be spun into something bright. A lesson, for yourself and for others, if they will care to listen and not judge. A truth that you can hold to tightly, even when the lies begin to creep in again. An understanding, that you are strong and have made it through darkness to light once and can do so again. And again, if need be.

All this to say: pay attention to the little details in your lives, the small clues that will show you the truth if you let them. Tell the untold story. Don’t dismiss the nagging voice that you so often do, the one that asks ‘are we sure this is right?’. The story might be nothing, the voice might be the lie, but if you don’t tell it, if you don’t listen, how can you know for sure?

Rambling: The State of Things

Rambling: The State of Things

Its been hard to find that creativity lately. Difficult enough to find the words for my story, even more so to write a blog post that doesn’t perpetuate the doom and gloom that is our world lately. The last blog post I tried to write was just before all this started to effect my country and, therefore, my life. It was a post speculating on the comfort of finally having “enough” and not worrying about spending money on more frivolous things. Can’t say that feels altogether appropriate say this point in time.

There are still silver linings, despite the state of the world today. You might need to look a little harder, but they are there. Personally, I find myself hoping that this pandemic will upset the current order of the world, so that when we return to a normal it is a different flavor of normal them we’ve had before now. Something better, more sustainable. Maybe I’m just dreaming, but it is a pleasant enough dream.

Amidst all the dark, there is still light. There are those working tirelessly to help others, even just by making face masks for those who work in the health sector. They are doing this without asking for anything back, because it is the right thing to do. The good thing. There is a lot to be proud of, right now. And, of course, there are all our health workers, the nurses, the doctors and their support staff, putting their health and lives on the line to help those in their community.

But there never seems to be good without bad. Two sides of the same coin. Ever intertwined. I know you’ve seen it, the videos and pictures of protests, people sick and tired of the social isolation. Tired of not working. They gather together and protest, perhaps not even fully realizing how dangerous their actions are right now. Maybe just not caring. I can’t pretend to know their thoughts in this time.

But I don’t want to focus on those people. They are the loud ones. The we are going to hear about the most. The small stories of kindness go overlooked amongst the noise. So I urge you to take a moment, seek out the stories of those who are doing what they are able to help those that they can. Along with our health professionals, these people are the heroes. Giving what they can when there is not a lot to give.

As ride the bus into work, I can see numerous windows filled with hearts and messages of love and support. Outside the hospital there is even more. The other day, as I sat dejected on the bus, the automated voice spoke up. “We’re all in this together,” it droned. I nearly cried. I needed to hear that, even if it was just from a robotic voice.

So, I want to take this time to say it to you. We are in this together. We will get through this, because humans are wondrous creatures. We adapt. We change. And we carry on. We will make it through.

Rambling: When the Characters Decide

Rambling: When the Characters Decide

There are many ways to write a story. Some writers plan every little detail before they really start writing the meat of the story. Other writers get an idea and just run with it. And, of course, there is everywhere in between.

I’m a pantser. It means I don’t write an outline, though I do have an idea where the story needs to go. When I’ve tried to start with an outline in the past, I tend to just start writing the story. I’m too eager to dive into the world I’ve created, I think. Despite not planning all the details out, I still feel I have a good handle on where my story is going.

And then the characters make their thoughts heard. This usually means that, as I get deep into writing a scene, my characters do something completely unexpected though still in tune with who they are. It can be as simple as one using a nickname well before I thought they would be familiar enough with another character to do so. But it just feels right.

It can also end up being something as game changing as an unplanned death or a major rift in a relationship. Those sorts of things can completely change the intended direction of the story, but they are often something good, something the story needed that you only subconsciously recognised.

That is how I like to write my stories. Knowing the direction, but constantly guessing and surprised at the smaller details that reveal themselves to me.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.Please let me know what you think!

FFF Cover Second Design test

(Kindle Version / Paperback Version)
CA: https://amzn.to/2PmPSmn / https://amzn.to/2MOtosK
US: https://amzn.to/31JTwcw / https://amzn.to/2JskmQ9
UK: https://amzn.to/2pUrTAk / https://amzn.to/2MRHx8w

Rambling: “Babe”

Rambling: “Babe”

I was walking downtown to work and happened to meet up with a male coworker at the corner across from my work. While waiting for the light to turn, a man who looked to be a member of the city’s homeless population shouted “Nice hair, babe” at me. I turned with a smile, thanked him, and returned to waiting with my coworker. Coworker was just looking over his shoulder at the man, an expression bordering on disgust, or perhaps confusion, on his face. Maybe he thought I knew the guy, but I don’t.

I told him that I often get compliments on my hair, and he joked that he never does (he is bald). Then I mentioned that the “babe” part was a little much, and he agreed that it really made it “ick”.

Thing is, despite the uneasy feeling I got from the compliment, it wasn’t something I had any intention of addressing, especially not with the one who shouted it at me. That borders on dangerous, and I never want to cause someone to explode at me. We talked a little further with another male coworker in the elevator. To the first coworkers bafflement at such comments, we both said welcome to being a woman and I mentioned that I am grateful to live where we do, because what I experience is nothing compared to what some women have to put up with.

Combine this experience with continually seeing those mysoginistic tweets on Twitter about how to be a good woman, or wife, ones that rail against women expressing themselves through their appearance, and frankly I’m done. I’m sick of it.

We live in a modern world. We live in the future. So why are there men out there still looking at women as only being objects? As only being there for man’s pleasure and to have babies? So long as, of course, those women don’t end up becoming single mothers for any reason.

Ridiculous, right? I sure think so.

I’m lucky to live in the city I live in. The comments I get are fairly harmless compared to what women face in other cities and other countries. But that doesn’t mean I don’t actually face it. I just get off easy, and I know it.

And sure, there might be those who will say that I would not have minded such a comment if it came from an attractive person. They would be wrong. I still don’t appreciate it. It doesn’t feel quite so bad, but honestly? The only person I want calling me “babe” or to have throw a sexually charged compliment my way is my husband. Everyone else can stick to the benign compliments.

It isn’t that I don’t appreciate compliments. I do. But you can tell me my hair looks good without adding babe, or sweetheart. You can tell me I have a nice dress without staring at my breasts. You can walk past me without fully turning your head to watch my ass move. I know when they do it, I can feel their eyes.

I wish that this sort of behavior would stop. Like I said, I know I get off easy here. I shudder to think of what other women have to put up with simply for existing.

We need to do better. And it is unfortunate that the ones who need to do better are the ones that likely never will.

Ramblings: New Year

Ramblings: New Year

Well, here we all are. Somehow in 2020. Some of us despite all odds, some of us with our heads held high. All that matters is you made it, however you got here.

Good for you!

This year is going to bring a lot of change for me. Well, the change has already started, but it will be the culmination of change. It’s frightening, change always is to me and many others, but it will be good. It is going to mean that my life will stop being a matter of living paycheck to paycheck, of falling deeper into debt. No, I am now digging out of that hole and don’t plan on ending up in it ever again. Granted, life may have other plans, but so do I!

Last year brought a lot of change, as well. I finally published my book, as well as a short story! I’ve heard a lot of good things about my book, from people that I trust not to sugarcoat their words for my feelings. It feels good to know that I have brought joy, and continue to bring joy, to people through my words. It is a dream, after all.

I am continuing to work on book two of Wings of Shattered Shards, though it still remains without a title. One will come to me, I am certain. I’m hoping to come up with another title that sports alliteration, as that just makes me happy. We will have to see, however, as I don’t plan on forcing the title just to satisfy my silliness.

I’ve also been thinking on my Seventh Majir short stories and where I want to take them. I think they may end up a bit more involved than I had initially intended to have them be, with each story being able to stand alone but the whole taking the Majir towards his destiny, one incident at a time. I had already inadvertently set it up that this could happen, so I guess I was already subconsciously crafting this. The big question is does Majir get one more short before he learns he has a destiny, or do we jump right in? I’m tempted to say one more short before he learns of his destiny. After all, what is the fun of just jumping straight into the meat, gotta enjoy the side dishes too.

Among other smaller things, there is another large change looming before me right now. A new job, more pay. Just have to wait a little bit more before I hear back from the security check, which I am confident will come back clean, and then it is notice time!

Exciting. Terrifying.

But what part of life isn’t, if it is worthwhile?

Poetry – Anxiety

Poetry – Anxiety

It starts slow
It starts quiet
The heart beats
With quickened steps

Breath shortens
Gasping

Then it starts
The trembling
The shaking
Fingers forgetting
How to grasp

Bubbling up
From deep within
Are all the thoughts
That keep you down
Reminding you
Of all your faults
Never remembering
All your strength

 

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

So I’ve gone ahead and done it. Finalized my short story and have put it up on Amazon. It is currently on a FREE sale, so make sure you pick up a copy before it ends. I will be running the free sales every time I am able to, but it will not be constant.

If you’ve been hoping to read something a little more polished from me, but aren’t quite ready to commit to my more expensive novel, this is the perfect opportunity!

There are seven Majir’s in Aegnap, powerful men and women who have the ability to wield great magic. Six of the Majir’s reside in the capital cities of the six kingdoms, while the Seventh Majir travels the lands, assisting all those in need.

In the first instalment, the Seventh Majir must return to a home he left over 40 years ago. A home he has never truly let go of.

Currently available only as a Kindle E-Book, my intention is to continue to release short stories featuring the Seventh Majir and, upon having seven stories, will release a paperback compilation. Seven Stories of the Seventh Majir.

It pleases me.

Check it out here if you are in the Canadian region, or here for the US region, or here for the UK region.

Don’t miss out!

Homecoming Cover.jpg

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Please let me know what you think!
FFF Cover Second Design test
Poetry: Gloss

Poetry: Gloss

Another 15 year old poem.  What can I say, I decided to browse the old poetry account and am kind of digging the stuff I’ve found. I’m not certain what my thoughts were when I wrote this, but reading it now I see a duality of human nature, and how we try to disguise the ugliness within ourselves

 

Gloss over your enameled voice
With lacquered paints
And glittering pens
Until we see no more

Tell your lies
All sickly sweet

Polish and shine
To a bright perfection
The other side
That demon within

Tell your lies
All sickly sweet

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Please let me know what you think!
FFF Cover Second Design test.jpg
Rambling: Headspace

Rambling: Headspace

I’ve been in a strange headspace this last little while. Some weird combination of anxiety and confidence, dread anticipation mixed with hope.

My anxiety has been flaring up left, right, and centre for at least a week. I’ve done what I can to keep it in check, pushing the negative thoughts to the side and directing my mind to think about my story. Thinking on my writing is actually becoming an incredibly helpful tool for regulating myself, which is pretty cool. I just start imagining a scene, or thinking about where I want to take the story, and I get engrossed in it. It’s great!

But it isn’t perfect. Sometimes I just can’t quite get it to work right.

And I speculate that thinking about publishing my stories so much is contributing. As much as I would love to have published work, the idea of actually putting it out there is a bit terrifying. What if everyone hates it, despite the positive words I’ve received on it already? What if there is some huge plot hole I missed?

And to add to all this, work has insisted that all unbilled WIP (work in progress) get billed this month, which means that I am doing at least 50% more bills this month than I normally do.

Stress levels are high.

Current finances don’t exactly help. Part of why I want to publish my books soon, and why I care so much about whether they sell or not. It would be lovely to have a little extra to be able to put towards the debt.

As I type this, I realize just how much I do not like talking, or writing, about me having feelings like this. I guess I would rather deny them, than give proof to the world that I am less than perfect.

Silliness. Pretty sure the world knows I’m less than perfect and is OK with it, since perfection in unattainable.

Whatever. I’m just gonna wallow and leave the rest of you alone.

Ta.
Arcia

Ramblings: Decision Time

Ramblings: Decision Time

So, in light of me nearing completion on the short story I’ve been working on, I have been researching pricing for indie short story e-books. I stumbled upon some surprising information and comparisons between being an indie-published author and a traditionally-published author. Traditionally published books typically are set at a higher price than an indie-published book, and yet the royalties kicked back to the author on a traditionally-published book seem to be a FRACTION of what an indie-published book would garner.

The services that a traditional publisher would provide, such as covers and editing, are services that a lot of freelancers offer, for far cheaper than what you get through a traditional publisher. If you even use a freelancer – lots of writers out there are artists in their own right, and can probably create their own cover pages.

So what does this mean for me? It means that I think, I might, just possibly, maybe self-publish my main WIP, my Wings series.

It would mean that I could get it out in the world a lot sooner, which would be really exciting. It would mean that I don’t need to spend $20+ every time I send my manuscript out to another publisher for consideration. Money that I really don’t have to be wasting, when maybe I could put that to better use, such as towards a professional cover for my book.

I will need to garner interest in my book on my own, rather than relying on someone else, but that isn’t an issue to me. I’m passionate about what I write, and I know that shines through. I love my story.

So I’m not sure when it will happen, I will need to look into a cover and maybe give it one last wipe with the ol’ polishing cloth.

But, loves, you are going to see my name in print! It will be glorious.

Believe!
~Arc