Morning Cup of Character Anyone?

Some people need their coffee to get through the day. I need my butt in chair time, aka writing.

Doesn't matter if all I manage to create is a page or a paragraph. If I time it right and E's well enough to stay in school that day, something amazing happens as I commune with my characters. They take center stage and the chatter from my ever-present to-do lists drop off my radar. So does the constant worry that the next call will be a summons from the school because E is sick again, a scenario that happens all too often.

I've learned the hard way that I can't predict when the next call will come. Nor can I completely shed the worry that the next illness will signal another hospital stay, or worse. However there are things I can control, like making it a number one priority to wake up early enough each day to enjoy a morning cup of character.

I live to write and write to live. The process feeds and sustains me. Deep inside the flow of story, nothing else matters. I am in the here and now, and anything is possible.

Amusing the Muse

Although butt in chair time will be hard to come by this weekend, I'll have plenty to keep my muse amused. Some of the events on our to-do list include:

1. Opening day for Miracle League--This is the awesome volunteer-run baseball league E tried out last Fall and begged to play in this Spring. The league gives children with special needs the chance to play baseball on a minor league field (the Joliet Jackhammers in our case) with cheering crowds, concessions and the Star Spangled Banner at every game.

2. Dog Day afternoon--E and her service dog Jewel will represent MidAmerica Service Dog Foundation this weekend at a regional Pet Expo and share her story with the crowds.

3. Major spring cleaning--S's room is the focus. We plan to ditch the carpeting and make the room over, adding a family room to the first floor. The plan is to finish the job before Memorial Day. Why? Essentially, we've been living on the first floor ever since E's aneurysm rupture left her unable to do stairs. With our oldest daughter L moving back in after graduation (and no job offers yet), we need the extra room.

When 3,000 is Not a Word Count

Nope. Three thousand is not the number of words I wrote today. Nor is it the amount of money we're getting back from the IRS. Three thousand minus a few tens is the number of miles I drove E last year to her various doctors and therapy appointments. No wonder finding uninterrupted butt in chair time was such a challenge.

And yet, somehow last year I...

1. Managed to write an entire novel during NaNoWriMo in November.
2. Joined a fab online critique group that helped me stay focused by helping me set deadlines, and by providing honest, inspiring and insightful feedback.
3. Cranked out a series of articles for Family Time magazine.
4. Led multiple writing workshops for teens.
5. Established a presence on Facebook.
6. Connected with like-minded writers through Romance Writers of America and SCBWI.

And then of course I depended on what's become my mantra of sorts: Patience. Persistence. Perseverance. And lots of prayer.

Thumbing My Nose at Chaos

I reclaimed my O-Dark Thirty writing routine last month. This means that instead of lounging in bed until the last possible minute, I get up every day at 5:30 to write.

My goal is modest: two pages per day. Most days I write more. Some days I'm lucky to bang out a page. If I don't make my quota, I don't sweat it. Either way I'm moving my story forward.

What makes this routine work?
1. Except for Kirby the hamster, no one else is moving around that time of day which means my writing time is my own.

2. The regular routine keeps my story close enough to the surface that when I'm ready to play, my characters are, too.

3. I live to write and write to live. If I go too long without communing with my characters, they get cranky and I get crabby.

4. Writing every day is my way of thumbing my nose at chaos and keeping the mugwump muzzled.

Earthquakes, Aftershocks and Uninterrupted Writing Time

Somehow, despite all the chaos that is my life these days (ie the issues with E's teeth in January, her hospitalization in February, two IEPs that need re-visioning, etc.) I managed to write 10 pages in 24 hours. Ten!

Nowhere near editor ready, said pages are more in the vein of what Anne Lamott refers to as the "shitty first draft." But here's the thing: those 10 pages represent forward progress, and proof that I can still write.

I've been doubting myself a lot lately. My ability to write. My ability to edit. My ability to be anything other than caregiver and mother.

No surprise where these feelings originated. E's health. It's impacted our family on many levels, and my writing on multiple. But in a strange and twisted way our unpredictable schedule had become predictable.

In a way, it's like we've been the victims of a series of earthquakes. Each time we try to assess our situation in hopes of finding a new sense of normal, another aftershock comes...in the form of a new symptom, doctor, test, or challenge at home or at school.

I'm certain it doesn't help that that in the aftermath of E's hospitalization and all the docs we must now see (she's up to 11 who see her regularly), I'm on point for coordinating and managing E's care. Nor does it help that because of this shift in responsibilities I've experienced first hand the very real, very palpable erosion of my uninterrupted writing time.

In recent weeks, I've been lucky enough to squeeze in a couple hours of writing time every now and again. Sometimes all this means is that I've succeeded in staring at the screen long enough to pluck out a paragraph or two.

I've been trying to honor the process. I've been trying to remind myself that even if all I have time to produce is one lousy paragraph, that lousy paragraph had to be written in order to get to the good stuff.

Those 10 pages I produced earlier this week? They're the good stuff. My next challenge is to figure out what needs to happen in order to write more.

Weekend With My Muse

Tonight marks the first night of a weekend away with my muse courtesy of P.

With E so recently out of the hospital, I've been reluctant to take advantage of his Christmas present. But somewhere around midweek, I began warming to the idea.

A constellation of events came together this week to help change my mind. E continued to improve as the week wore on. Yesterday her neurologist set in motion the beginnings of a workable care plan. Today E made it through her first day back at school since being discharged a week ago Thursday. What's more, my cell didn't ring once with a call from the nurse's office to come get her early, not in the middle of Jazzercise, nor while catching up on email.

So...today I began packing. Mini Dell, power cords, Kindle, note cards, reading material, colored pencils, markers. I've packed anything and everything I think I'll need in order to coax my muse from the place she retreated when all heck broke loose. I'm hoping that with enough uninterrupted time together she (and I) will dare risk getting excited about M&R again.

As I type, I'm printing off M&R Nano, the book I wrote in November for National Novel Writer's Month. My plan is to read it in one sitting then cut out my favorite scenes and literally lay them out on the floor of the hotel room in story order. From there, I'll identify scenes I love, and holes to fill (or back fill) as needed. Then to start writing.

Looking forward to an uninterrupted night's sleep (in which I don't need to listen to the baby monitor in case E needs something), ordering in breakfast, and setting to work. Then, if the weather's good, I hope to break for lunch and scout out the Bean and/or the Art Institute, both of which are walking distance from where I'll be staying.

Then back for round two. And, hopefully, when I return, my characters will meet me at the door.

Report from the Trenches

In full battle gear these days, not by my own choosing. Last week we found ourselves in the hospital at E's bedside.

The saga began a week ago last Monday when E's aide called to say that E had fallen asleep at her desk soon after arriving at school. By the time I arrived at school, she'd fallen asleep again, this time at her scooter while waiting for the elevator to come. Even more worrisome, as she drove up to meet me at the main doors, she could barely stay awake, let alone carry on a conversation.

It hurt to open her eyes, she said. Everything was blurry and the light hurt. This isn't right, I remember saying. Something is very wrong.

I left the scooter at school, carried E to the parking lot (thanking God she's a little person), and called Children's from the car.

E didn't wait long in the ER, not with a history of aneuryms and symptoms like extreme, sudden-onset fatigue and blurry vision. The folks at the hospital moved quickly, admitting E and running a battery of tests to help understand what was going on.

The good news is E's home. The bad news is we find ourselves living in an unnerving in between place. We know what the episode wasn't, but we're not yet certain what it was, and we don't yet know what this all means for the long term. Tomorrow we meet with the first of what feels like a million doctors who, over the next couple weeks, will help us put this puzzle together.

Writing wise, I didn't have the time or energy to work on M&R during this latest saga, although I brought my mini Dell with me each day hoping I'd find the time to do so. For what it's worth, I did manage to keep a journal. Writing in it by hand the old-fashioned way seemed to work best.

Reviewing it now, I realize how much I'd forgotten about the last time we were in the hospital for days at a time. After each big ass test, the not knowing was the worst, because at least with the knowing, you can begin to assess and acknowledge the road you will be traveling on next.

And then there were the other details, the alarms and smells--some antiseptic, some not, and the haunted faces of the parents who passed me by in the hallways. After a while I got to know their faces, and after a while I realized that I probably looked as tired and stretched as they did.

We're returning to normal now, if you can call the place where we're at normal. E is getting stronger each day, able to stay up longer before she needs a nap. I'm slowly digging out of piles that grew while we were gone. What seems to be working best lately is to let the big A To-Dos prioritize themselves.

Yesterday, the big To-Do was an IEP for S where we talked high school and Freshman classes. Not a trivial meeting this one. I'd love to say we felt fully informed about the choices we were making for her. We didn't. A number of items that came up during the meeting remain open issues as far as I'm concerned, and they're on my list to pursue as soon as today's big To-Do is past.

Today the big to-do is my teen writers workshop. The topic: Characters You Love (and Love to Hate). I'm looking forward to tonight for several reason. The first is that I will be joined by long-time friend and writer extraordinaire Jenn Knoblock. The second is that in the past I've left my workshops feeling invigorated and inspired.

Toes and fingers crossed that tonight is no exception to the rule because my muse can really use the boost.