Monthly Archives: February 2016

Life like a Rocket

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An update on my life:

I’m reading again. I read two books this week and started a third. Loved Ruta Sepetys’s Salt to the Sea (review) and Anna-Marie McLemore’s The Weight of Feathers (review). I was lucky enough to get an ARC of my friend Addie Zierman’s new book, Night Driving: A Story of Faith in the Dark. I’ve read the first couple chapters, which are brilliant. No surprise there. Addie’s writing knocks me off my feet every time.

My writing group is amazing. It was so good to get together with them this week and really hash out my POV concerns for Salt Novel. I feel really, really good about where we landed. Plus, they are so encouraging. To be honest, in the early stages of writing a novel, I think that’s probably my biggest need: to have people say, We’re interested. We like these characters. Keep going. 

I’m making some changes to my OCD meds. This is maybe a little surprising, since I’ve said before that I don’t like to rock the boat. Problem is, I had some blood work done and the little half-milligram of Risperdal I take each night is probably affecting me in such a way that I need to get off of it long-term. That part is fine to me. I feel like these days I’m using Risperdal more as a sleep aid than as an anti-psychotic. So I suggested to my psychiatrist that maybe I could trade Risperdal in for an actual sleep aid like Trazodone. He agreed. I really can’t sleep without Risperdal (see story below for case in point), but I also know from past experience that I’m suuuuuuuuuper sensitive to Trazodone. We’re working out the kinks. My primary care doctor also recommended that I start taking NAC, an amino acid that has been helpful for people with OCD. The next day, our OCD Twin Cities group was talking about NAC. Then I asked my psychiatrist, and he gave me the thumbs up too. I’ll keep you posted. The nice thing about NAC is that you can pick it up at any old vitamin store, no need for a prescription.

Sleep evades me. I’ve had some problems (read: lots) with sleep lately. I cannot sleep without Risperdal. But I also take 10 mg of melatonin, which is all-natural. Even then, I wake up throughout the night, and in the morning, I don’t feel well-rested. Last night, I gathered up my evening meds, and I thought I felt one pill fall on the floor. I got on my hands and knees looking for it, but couldn’t find anything so I went to bed. But I couldn’t fall asleep. I was restless. I was wakeful. I was up for long periods of time around 1, 2, and 3 am (at which point I started praying for my friends– sometimes when I can’t sleep I wonder if that’s why I’m up. Interestingly, one of my friends told me today that she was up at 3 am, fitful over some things going on. I was praying for her at the same time!). Finally, at 6 am, wide awake but soooo tired, I realized the pill that probably fell was my Risperdal. So I took Risperdal at 6 am and finally got some rest. YUCKO. Thank goodness it’s the weekend!

Except I have to work this weekend. This is historically the hardest couple of days of the year for me– President’s Day and the day before– because we have a wild and crazy large-group overnight event for prospective students on these days. As my personality has shifted into full-on introversion, it’s gotten harder and harder. Think of me.

It’s pretty darn cold in MN. We’ve had it easy so far this year for the most part, but in the last couple days, it’s been downright frigid.

I’m excited about my novel. I really am. I have so many ideas and so much hope. Sometimes all the ideas and all the hope kind of flood me and I get overwhelmed, so I remind myself to put my head down and to SHOW UP and put in the work. I have a really detailed word count spreadsheet, and I’m loving it. Theoretically, if I follow the spreadsheet, I will have a draft finished soon! It’s so good to be back on the island with these characters. They are lovely and cruel and have lots of sharp edges.

One last thing: Girl Scout cookies are destroying me.

How are you, friends? Please comment. I absolutely love hearing from you. Makes me feel less alone!

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Review: Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

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salt to the seaI’m not sure whether to say that the paragraph below this is a spoiler or not. It’s not a traditional book spoiler– it’s the historical event this book is based on. But if you want to go into this book completely blind, best to skip it.

Last summer, when Ruta Sepetys was in St. Paul, I had the chance to hear her speak passionately about a bit of nearly-lost history: a ship called the Wilhelm Gustloff that was carrying WWII refugees to safety was torpedoed by the Soviets, and about 9,000 of the 10,000 passengers died. Most of them were children and youth. The Nazis tried to cover it up, so even though more people died than in the sinkings of the Titanic and Lusitania combined, many people don’t know about this tragedy.

Till now.

Ruta Sepetys brings it to life in Salt to the Sea, and it’s wonderful. There is a slow build throughout the story with the climactic event taking up a surprisingly small part of the story. The characters are well-drawn, there are plenty of secrets, and there’s a sweet romance too.

I did think the book wrapped up fast, but that was fine by me. I stayed up late to finish this one, and I was pretty emotionally ragged by the end. Also, it’s been a while since I read Sepetys’s debut Between Shades of Gray, so it took me a looooong time to catch a connection between the two books that was in pretty plain sight. Once I did, it delighted me.

This is one of those books where knowing the historical truth behind the story does nothing to diminish it. It only amplifies, and you hold on for the ride.

Tidy

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And the winner isFor right now– this exact second– I feel on top of things.

I’ve created a detailed word count goal chart, and I’m so far ahead that I technically don’t have to write till Wednesday. (But I will.)

My mom is coming over tomorrow (football what?) to work on putting the finishing touches on my house. Guys. It looks so great. It’s come so far since the end of April! (As one might hope.)

I just cleaned my bedroom. Current and former roommates can attest that that is no small task.

I gathered all my tax documents together. I’m not totally failing at adulthood.

I’m going to church in the morning, and it’s at our old-new building. (Our original site when we launched in 2010 was purchased out from under us, but this winter we had the opportunity to buy it! So tomorrow is a sort of homecoming!) There is much more to be said about this, but I’m not ready yet.

I paid off my credit card.

I get to see my family, my therapist, my psychiatrist, my best friend, and my writing group this upcoming week, and yet my schedule isn’t too crowded.

Gold medal, Sommers. Way to keep the ship afloat.

*Someone send me this post next time I freak out.*

POV Thoughts

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Guys, I’m torn.

I can’t decide if my novel should be single or dual POV.

BENEFITS TO DUAL
I love my male character’s perspective on things, especially on my female character.
It’s totally his story too. He probably changes the MOST.
There are a couple scenes that idk how I’d manage NOT from his POV.

DRAWBACKS TO DUAL
It will for sure be more difficult.
He has so many secrets I need to protect that I’m worried the first half from his POV would be too uneventful. (I have to protect those secrets till the right moment.)

Any thoughts? Lob em at me.

Thoughts & Things

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My house is coming together. Check out my insta for some pics.

I’m overwhelmed with work. As in, my professional job where I spend my days. The spring is just saturated with events that require me to put on my extrovert mask– and which keep me from my manuscript.

I started work on the new (old) novel. Day one, I tried to write chapter one, and it did not go well. The beginning is so, so, so hard. So day two, I started with the first scene in the book where I feel the characters are already established, and it felt GREAT. So excited about all my characters and my ideas.

But I know the perfect novel in my head will not be the novel I end up writing. It’s not possible. I feel like this is something Plato understood. That said, a novel that is written trumps a novel never written. There is a way in which a novel that is written is more beautiful than the perfect novel, exactly because it is written.

My stress is leveling out. I think. I hope. I can breathe again. I’m telling myself to pace myself. If I work on stuff– even a little bit– each day, it will slowly come together. That’s how it works.

We had a snowstorm in Minnesota. We got about ten inches of snow where I live. And then we carried on with life. (Because here our infrastructure expects that (and is ready for even more), so the plows and the salt and the snow blowers and the weird little things that clear the sidewalks on my campus just come out and take care of business– fast– and then we all go back to work.) It makes me a little sad (the snow), but truth be told, the fact that it’s still light out when I leave work is making my heart SING. It’s this little promise that spring will come again. I treasure the light.

I still haven’t been reading. Even my therapist told me to make time for this. I will. I need to. It’s like I feel this vacancy where I know there should be inspiration. I just have to remember how to thread this into my life: audiobooks, no writing on Mondays, taking time before bed. I know these things. I just need to start acting on them. I will.

I need a vacation. Well, what I need is concentrated time set aside to write. Seven days in Duluth would be ideal. But it’s not in the budget, and I am PTO-poor, and I’m telling myself it’s okay and that I can wait a few months. Even though I have a draft due before then. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

I purchased a keychain pill container. There were too many times I needed Ativan and it was sitting at home. NO MORE.

I’ve had a lot of thoughts lately about the OCD parts of my blog. They are the most popular part of my website, and it’s starting to bother me. I guess I find myself continually leaning into the author part of my identity, but my blog keeps forcing me into my advocacy identity, which, to be perfectly frank, I’m less interested in these days. Wait, no. That didn’t come out quite right. I’m still interested in advocacy; I’m just more interested in writing and literature and kind of want to just enjoy my remission. I feel a little guilty about it, but only a very, very, very little. That said, I’m not sure if I should separate my OCD posts from my website and repost them elsewhere. What do you guys think?

I want to hear from you. Please chime in so I know I’m not just talking to myself over here. Please.

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