2013: The Annual List of Demands

Those who know me well are aware that I do not make resolutions at the dawn of a new year. I submit an annual list of demands, and resolve to be an absolute bitch about anyone who refuses to comply.

Here is the 2013 List.

Resistance, for what it’s worth, is futile.

1. Errands are done once. If you screw up, forget, or are otherwise irresponsible about your meds at the pharmacy, wants from the grocery store, or any other nitpicky bit of nonsense, tough.
2. Trips to the ER will take place during the week and prior to bed time unless you are bleeding from an orifice badly enough that I can see it, are not conscious and pass the stick-poking test, or have been significantly mauled by a non-domesticated animal.
3. Use my cookware without returning it to the condition in which you find it and you get no food prepared or purchased by me until you have returned it to a state found acceptable by me, or replaced it.
4. I share everything I buy. If Ahmed bought something for me it is to be considered a personal gift to remain completely untouched without invitation. That includes food, drinks, DVDs, or anything else.
5. My newspapers, flyers, magazines, and even junk mail are free for everyone to peruse AFTER I HAVE DONE SO. Until I have perused, they are off-limits. Don’t even move them.
6. If I am interrupted while speaking I will never repeat what I was saying to the interrupter. If I was attempting to announce a nuclear bomb, you are on your own finding the shelter and the iodine tablets. Listen next time.

Have a safe and happy 2013. Compliance with the above is your first step.

An End to the Truant Pen in 2012

I was away for a few weeks, and I’m only sorta-back. Know what I discovered? Writers have gone nasty.

My return was marked by endless snark, shots fired across many a bow, and more amazon-is-evil, indies-have-no-talent-or-clue, NY-is-the-devil, and cetera.

Is this the best we can do? Jesus Christ on a Cracker, I hope not.

In general I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. In the past I have, trying to be funny, submitted a yearly list of demands. (I know… I’m adorable.) This year I am going to get resolute for a change. And I’m challenging all my friends who are writers to join me:

SHUT UP AND WRITE IN 2012

Waddaya say, friends? 2011 saw the rise of the direct publishing movement; it saw the death of Borders; it saw Nook-Kindle wars; and it saw the end of some friendships for me. Why? Because it became a daily rant from one writer or another about why publishing free books was either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid, but nobody was supposed to say so. We got passive-aggressive “here is why the opposing opinion is utter crap, but please understand, I don’t mean to say it’s crap.” We got “indies have no right to use the term indie, no offense, but they aren’t real indies, WE are the real indies, and everyone else is an asshole, but we’re going to use the term ‘misguided’ to avoid saying anything we actually think.” We got “I am an editor at X house and therefore know more than you, so here is why NY is not afraid of you at all, little direct publishing sillies, which is why we harp on how unimportant you are every fucking day, hahahaha, why would you think I’m nervous, you insignificant creature?” We got “NY publishing will be gone by 2012 and here are fourteen reasons; I should know, I sold a bajillion copies of the following book you’ve never heard of on Smashwords.”

We got full of ourselves, wrapped up in bullshit, and really off the goddamned track, katz n kittenz.

So my plan for 2012, once I heal from the latest surgery and get my galleys back from the formatter I (reluctantly) hired… is to SHUT THE HELL UP AND WRITE. Take it away, Sir Phillip.

But words came halting forth, wanting Invention’s stay;
Invention, Nature’s child, fled step-dame Study’s blows;
And others’ feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite—
“Fool!” said my Muse to me “look in thy heart, and write!” --Sir Philip Sidney

The Journey Itself

As 2008 approaches, many are reflecting on the year that has passed and looking forward to a new one with fresh goals. I learned a great deal in 2007. One of the challenges for me in 2007 was keeping faith. In general I am not someone who loses belief in God or the gracious force that guides the universe. I do lose faith in people. I find myself becoming disillusioned, saddened, and even angered by others who waste opportunities, impair others who would do good works, or simply treat others with cruelty, malice, ignorance. For the most part I think we all try hard. But I see more people every day becoming self indulgent, excuse-mongering anger addicts.

Where, then, to look for guidance? This past year there were revelations about Mother Theresa of Calcutta and her loss of trust in God as her life came to a close. I was shocked to hear others discounting both her work and her spirit as a result of these revelations. For in spite of a darkening heart, one that found it increasingly hard to trust God's plan, she continued to her final breath to help others. She served humanity even in the throes of doubt.

Jesus questioned the plan, too. He wept tears of blood at Gethsemane and begged for a way out. He went willingly to his cross, but in agony asked "why have you forsaken me?" Perhaps those who worship him should consider that when condemning a little woman who did God's work even when she found it hard to hear God's voice. "I am just a little pencil in God's hand," she used to say. When her certainty of glory in the afterlife waned, her dedication to others did not.

I want to make that kind of determination my guide. I'm no Mother Theresa, nor would I want to be. But how can I fail to admire the strength it takes to plow onward through the hard times without really knowing if any reward awaits? Surely the journey itself, and whatever good I can do along that path, is worth its conclusion even if no reward awaits. As my dear friend Maria often says, "what if life itself is your reward?"

When you live with a terminal illness people tend to respond in one of two ways: denial on your behalf or fear and shock that such a thing can happen. The denial camp tends to respond with dismissal. "You'll be fine, they'll find a cure tomorrow," delivered in a saccharine voice followed by a fast change of subject. The message: it's too scary, so we're going to pretend it will go away and I am simply NOT going to think about nasty things. The fear/shock camp has a more natural response: holy crap how does somebody deal with THAT? From those people I often get offers of prayer (always deeply appreciated) and gentle questions. "How do you deal?"

I believe a power beyond us drives this universe. I believe in good and evil, but suspect we (humankind) drive most (if not all) of both forces. I believe in angels, in the power of releasing a light intent on good things into the world, and that the balance of endless chaos responds to darkness with light eventually. I believe in getting up and going on with an open heart. And I believe I can be wrong. But like another woman who was "just a pencil in God's hand" I believe the journey to be worthwhile regardless. So if I take a drive to visit a little shop at the end of a meandering country road lined with maples covered in snowy lace, it's cool if the store is closed when I arrive. Not everyone takes note of what rolls past as they move along the roads of their daily travels. For me the trees and rivers, incredible skies at dawn and dusk, and even the people I meet on the way are reward enough. Anything else is just icing on the cupcake.