Mini Mind Splat #5: Balance

MINI MIND SPLAT WARNING: Nothing I comment on is meant to offend. It's simply my opinion and how I feel about certain things (mostly inconsequential things). I'd love to see thoughts from others in the comments. Just remember, have fun with it. This isn't meant to be super serious.

I know I've probably grumbled about balance in past posts. It's a thorn in my paw, for sure. Seeking that ideal balance in life is near impossible, though so many things out there insist you should easily be able to attain it (lies, all lies, I say -- those who claim it's possible, just want to make you feel like a failure).

Of course, the big obstacle in the way of perfect balance is time.

Did you think I was done with the time theme? Nope. Nowhere near. Heh.

Anyway, there are so many things in my life that need attention -- writing career, editing business, reading, kids, husband, extended family, house management, house cleaning/organizing/projects (and yes, management and cleaning are two separate things -- the mental load of the former can be a bit crushing at times), social media, friends (this one seems to be the first thing kicked off the list nowadays), errands, going out to movies or events, TV, video games, hobbies (and I have many which get ignored, including cross-stitching, drawing, and coloring), exercise, spiritual studies and work (I really have to put myself in the non-practicing Wiccan category at this point), cats, and probably several other things that I can't think of right now because I've ignored them for too long. (Also, I didn't mention cooking because I avoid it at all costs, though I really should cook more often.)

The above is in no particular order of importance, but just making that list causes my head to spin. I can't do it, I can't keep all the balls in the air, I just don't have the time.

And it sucks. Let's face it, most of us realize we have a limited amount of time on this planet, and to know that we'll never accomplish all we want to do, well, that more than sucks.

I've attempted to plan it all out, the whole time management thing, in hopes to divide that time up more wisely and squeeze in a little bit of everything, but it always fails.

Balance is a unicorn. An annoying unicorn (I'd say a rabid unicorn, but those things only think of supple human flesh). But I don't think I'll ever stop trying to tame the damned thing.

What is the toughest task in your life to balance?

EDIT: I realized after posting, I forgot the most important thing on my tremendously long list. I never seem to get enough of it (maybe if I would, I would have remembered it). Sleep!

Bristol Renaissance Faire 2017

I try to attend the Bristol Renaissance Faire every year. Currently it's been with my family, of course (though hubbie and I are threatening to leave the kids with a friend one day next year so we can have a non-kid centric day there - lol). And this year I wanted to share some pictures I took. I think I got some good ones!

This is the statue of a jester. Don't ask me to report the details on the plaque below it because the day goes fast and my memory doesn't retain such things.

We attended the Joust to the Death. I had fun taking tons of pictures of this. Some are to the right and below.

Finally, here's yet another rare picture of me. I mean, I just had to get a picture on the unicorn throne (actually alicorn for those who are picky with that kind of thing)!

Halloween 2016 & Monster Maelstrom

It's that time of year! Yes, the time of year where I get way too into Halloween. It's my favorite holiday, after all.

Before I get into some pics of this year's costume and decorations, though, I'd also like to announce the release of a Fractured Fairies story. Last week, "Monster in the Room" released in the anthology Monster Maelstrom. It's a Halloween themed flash fiction anthology, of course! This Grinka-centric story can be found among a lot of other great stories. If you're in the mood for some Halloween reading, please pick up a copy. Oh, did I forget to mention the anthology is FREE?

You can snag a free copy of Monster Maelstrom from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo Books, iBooks, Google Play, and Smashwords. Please visit the Monster Maelstrom page if you'd like further information before you grab it.

Now, onto more good stuff! My yearly Halloween party was this past Saturday. No posts on the blog last week meant I was intensely cleaning the house that never gets cleaned except once a year for the party - lol. (I already have #11 for 1001 Reasons Not to Clean.)

This year I had a hard time getting excited about a costume. I just couldn't think of anything I wanted to be. Thankfully, the brainstorm finally unleashed itself when I was browsing Hot Topic online one day. I saw a unicorn horn and tail set. I figured I could always be simple. I mean, I love unicorns - that's no secret. Then I saw it... A blood splattered dress! Why be a plain old unicorn when you can be a Rabid Unicorn?

If any of you have visited my blog throughout the years, you know that I started a rabid unicorn story a couple years ago. It was a fun, humorous romp that I had to put on the back burner (like so many other shinies because there's only so much time in the day to write when you have an infant/toddler demanding your undivided attention). Of course, now I really want to continue it, but I have Thorns Entwine the Blade to focus on right now. If you want to read an excerpt of the rough draft I was working on, you can visit this old post from May 2014.

What? You want to see the costume? I rarely post pictures of myself, as you know. So, please be kind. Here it is! Note: I wear the heads of my fallen foes on my feet.

And I'll also leave you with a some pictures of the decorations from this year. Happy Halloween, everyone!

NaNo Excerpt #2 - Downward Spiral

The second excerpt from my 2014 NaNoWriMo novel, Downward Spiral.

"Mira, honey, there's no need for tears," said the apparition of my dead grandmother.

After staring at the husk all day, insisting that it wasn't Busha, that her soul was no where to be found in the papery corpse that looked like it would crumble to dust if I touched it, her soul sat before me, shimmering in the shadowed livingroom. And trying to comfort me, as always.

Was she here to say good-bye? Because if she was, I didn't want that. I already had to say good-bye when the paramedics took her away after her heart attack. I didn't want to do it again. I couldn't keep losing her. Had I done something so horrible in my life to deserve such a thing?

I knew ghosts were a possibility in my magic-riddled world. Several times a year there'd be a story in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel about a family member refusing to move on. That's when they'd hire a witch or warlock, to help the ghost move on. People thought whatever magic manifested in a person when they were dying, if they timed it just right, they could keep their soul attached to the world of the living.

I never thought Busha had any magic to do such a thing, nor would I have thought she would have wished that on herself. She had been a big advocate of living life to the fullest and accepting death when it knocked on the door.

And I couldn't hire someone to send her off. It would be like her dying a second time, this time by my own hand.

Busha rose from the couch, floating toward me. She cupped my cheeks with her glimmering hands.

This might have been her soul, but her soft, warm touch was now replaced by a cool tingling. Only a body could make a soul warm.

"Honey, honey." She placed a cold kiss on my forehead, then brushed away my tears. "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize how much of a shock it would be to see me. Maybe I shouldn't have waited until after the funeral."

Though her touch was cool, I welcomed it far more than any other human contact I had received today. This was Busha, the only person who could calm my worries, allay my fears. I wanted to fall into her arms and never let her go.

I leaned forward, to do just that, but there was no solid form to hold me, and I slipped right through her. The tingling as I passed through her cascaded through my body, like a gust of wind. I lost my balance and stumbled, falling hard on my ass.

Busha turned to me and knelt in front of me. "I wish I could hold you too."

Excerpt from Downward Spiral, Chapter 2

NEXT UP: Excerpt #3

NaNo Excerpt #1 - Downward Spiral

The long awaited first excerpt from my 2014 NaNoWriMo novel, Downward Spiral.

That wasn't my grandmother. Not my Busha.

Skin that looked like paper stretched over the skeleton. The wrinkles in the face were painstakingly etched, one by one, to make it all look so lifelike. Hands resting on the chest, clutching a rosary, the fingers like sticks. Immobile, empty.

No, not my Busha.

I couldn't bring myself to approach the casket, even though I was sitting in the front row in the viewing room. But I was required to. People would wonder if I didn't pay my condolences to the woman who raised me, the woman who guided my young life, and the one who I couldn't bear to leave even after I completed grad school.

But it simply wasn't her. Just a wax figure that looked like her. An empty husk that had no personality, one that was absent of the vitality I came to expect from the woman I loved.

No amount of undertaker's makeup could make her look like Busha again.

I turned my eyes from the mannequin in a coffin and pawed through my purse. Looking for something. Hell, I'm not exactly sure what, but anything that didn't require me to look at what was at the front of the room. The purse was pretty bare, though--money, credit cards, phone. Not like I used the thing much, but it was another thing expected of me on such an occasion.

People milled about the room, talking in whispers, catching up. They'd all already offered their condolences to me, and now they waited for my eulogy. Until then, they kept their distance, perhaps sensing I'd rather not talk to anyone. Or they could just think me strange for having not displayed the usual teariness expected of a person in mourning.

Screw them all. That wasn't Busha. How could I cry over a wax figure that looked like it should have cobwebs in its eyes? How was I supposed to offer a heartfelt eulogy for such a thing?

I poked around in my purse again.

Someone slipped into the seat behind me.

"Mira," a voice I didn't recognize said. His breath was damp on my neck, like the promise of rain hanging in the air. "I'm sorry to bother you on such a day, but I need your help."

I didn't turn around, didn't want to face whoever this anonymous mourner was. Busha had many friends and acquaintances. She had lived her life to the fullest, and after today I realized I only truly knew a handful of all the lives she'd touched.

He probably wanted a statement for some article, or perhaps a piece of something my grandmother had left behind.

"What do you want?" I closed my purse and clutched it like he was a thief ready to rip it out of my hands.

He didn't respond right away, probably trying to figure out how to address the coldness in my voice. I didn't like reporters, people who wanted to write flourishing praises about my grandmother, or vultures who wanted something they claimed she had promised them. Only I knew my Busha in truth, none of these people. I knew her heart. And her heart wouldn't want me to have to deal with this shit after she was gone.

"Again, I'm sorry." He placed a hand on my shoulder. It was warm like the clouds from a summer storm wrapping themselves around me. Comforting. I always did love a good storm.

I turned to him, yanking my shoulder from his grasp, about to tell him off for his presumption, but started when I met his face.

He looked to be in his twenties, like me. His short dark brown hair was a bit disarrayed--the tousled by the wind look. But his eyes were what made me jump. They were a whirling mix of blue and gray. And I could have sworn I saw lightning flash in their depths when I first met his gaze.

"I need your help, Mira. I need your magic."

Call me startled twice in the span of seconds. In a world where magic surrounds me--fairies, elves, witches, and warlocks--I had no magical leanings. Though Busha would always tell me differently. She claimed I was a unicorn. A unicorn stuck in the sprawling urbanity of Milwaukee.

Who ever heard of a unicorn? Let alone one without magic.

Excerpt from Downward Spiral, Chapter 1

NEXT UP: Excerpt #2!

NaNoWriMo 2014

Yes, it's that time of year again! When tons of crazy people decide to undertake the insane task of writing 50,000 words in a month. NaNoWriMo time!

And of course I'm joining in on the madness, as always. This is the 10th year I'm attempting NaNo. Here's hoping this will be the year I actually hit the 50,000 word mark!

I'll also be running Writing Quest in November - some people have NaNo goals there, and some aren't NaNoing at all and have other goals. So, feel free to join us over there. All writing goals are welcome.

So, curious on what I'm working on this time? Nope, not going to be a Rebel this year. This year, I'm diving into an urban fantasy I had an idea for. I threw together a cover earlier this week, as you can see. Downward Spiral is the first book in the Urban Unicorn series. And the cover was just for fun, so don't scrutinize it too much. ;)

Synopsis for Downward Spiral:

All her life, Mira's grandmother claimed she was a unicorn. Words that were hard to believe, since in a world surrounded by magic, Mira didn't display an ounce. But now her grandmother is dead, and a stranger arrives in Milwaukee asking for her help. A stranger with lightning in his eyes, who believes Mira has the magic to save the city from a madman.

I'll be posting here at least once per week (maybe more) with word count updates, as well as excerpts from Downward Spiral. So, keep watching!

And, what you've all been waiting for...the crazy word count meter! I love this thing. I'll update the word count here until I put a new one in the next post. Happy NaNoing, all!

NEXT UP: The first excerpt from Downward Spiral!

What Am I Reading? Acorna

Sorry for the delayed post again. I haven't had much time to blog lately OR read. October needs to be renamed Month of Crazy. I am still hip deep in Month of Crazy, so this post will be brief, as I'm only 17 pages into Acorna. That allows me to take a look at first impressions, though. And that's always important in a novel--you have to hook the reader in those first few pages or they won't keep reading!

Acorna, written by Anne McCaffrey and Margaret Ball, is another older novel. It recently landed on my To Read pile because of an urban fantasy series I had in mind where the protagonist is somewhat of a unicorn (at least her grandmother claimed she is). My protagonist is an avid reader who devoured anything "unicorn" as a child, and Acorna came to mind.

I read more fantasy and horror than I do science fiction, so it took my brain a couple pages to adjust. In a good way, though. And then it made me think, as usual. This time about the introduction of an alien species.

In some instances, like in the movie Alien, the writer wants to make the new species so foreign that it's horrifying, create it into something that is completely different than anything we know. But what if we want to make an alien species likeable? Or even relatable?

We give it human characteristics, of course!

Those human characteristics, things we recognize, help us adjust to the added differences of the creature. Near the beginning of Acorna, some asteroid miners find a pod with a little girl in it. The first description we get doesn't center on her differences, but makes it sound like she could be any human child. "They all admitted to that impression of the little creature which lay on her side, one hand curled into a fist and thrust against her mouth in a fairly common gesture of solace. A fluff of silvery hair curled down her forehead and coiled down to her shoulder blades, half obscuring the pale, delicate face" (8). It isn't until after that description that they notice the bump on her forehead and how her fingers and toes are formed differently.

But physical description isn't always enough, is it? Actions and responses that seem more human also help to endear us to something "other". Clearly an alien can look sweet and humanoid, then open its eyes and devour your face. Am I right?

Little Acorna doesn't do this, though. She does something very human, and it's hard not to feel for her. "'Avvvi, avvvi!' the youngling demanded, louder. Her eyes looked strange--almost changing shape--but she didn't cry." One man questions what avvvi could mean, and another responds, "...'Whatever the language,' [Gill] said, '"avvi" has to be her word for "Mama"'" (9).

How can you not feel for a child crying for her mother? Or at least see that though alien, the child is very human-like, and easy to accept as a likeable character.

What other ways have you seen something alien come alive on the page with the intention of liking the alien species?

McCaffrey, Anne and Margaret Ball. Acorna. New York: HarperPrism, 1997.

NEXT UP: A poem