Home Posts tagged "Erin Zarro" (Page 4)

Tag: Erin Zarro

Vacation Time!

So, I did it! As I mentioned in my last post, I was in dire need of a break, so I found some time to take a week off. It was particularly tough because there still were a few odds and ends to take care of, but those weren’t really too big a deal. My clients were good with it, so I went for it. It feels a bit odd, to be honest. I’m one of those people that can’t relax well. I need to “be productive” constantly, so relaxing or resting or whatever is like a foreign concept. This time, I made a to-do list. I know that is probably the opposite of “relaxing” and “resting,” but I always like to have some kind of plan…even if I blow it three days in. It includes writing, relaxation, reading…some cleaning, since my office is in dire need of it, and some serious catch up stuff. I’m also participating in a self-care challenge, which is just the thing I need to get myself out of this funk and maybe into a situation where I am feeling better on a regular basis. Because for me it’s been, “Self care? What’s that?” Terrible, I know. My only excuse is that in the midst of a health crisis, long work hours, life in general, the pandemic, sleep apnea crap, and general madness, it was way down on the list of priorities. And I know that is bad. So that’s why I am doing it.…

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Second Chance

Part 2: Disbelief a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro Part 1 “It can’t be,” I said, turning away from the closet and the radio. “I don’t believe in poltergeists. Or ghosts, for that matter.”                 Shelley’s eyes narrowed. “Really? I-I didn’t realize. Well, how else can you explain this, then?” She pointed to the closet, one eyebrow arched in question. “It’s not plugged in, so there’s no power.”                 “I know.” I turned back to the closet. I had no explanation that wasn’t a poltergeist or ghost…or Adam visiting me. But did I just want it to be? Maybe it was just a glitch?                 Shelley’s hand touched my shoulder, and I tensed. “Look, um, I don’t talk about this stuff to anybody because they’d think I’m mentally unstable, but I am, uh, sensitive to this type of energy —”                 “What type of energy?” Nausea churned my insides. What was she saying?                 “Ghosts and stuff,” Shelley said. “And I’m willing to bet that poltergeist — or whatever it is — is someone you know. Am I right?” Her gaze met mine, and I suddenly wanted to go somewhere and hide.                 She not only believed in ghosts and poltergeists, but was sensitive to energy? What did that mean? Did I dare hope that Adam was actually here?                 No, he couldn’t be.                 “None of this is real,” I said.                 “What if I said it was? And that you could communicate with this person?”                 I…

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I’m not writing this at 12:30a.m., noooo

We’ll just pretend it’s 12 noon because it is technically 12 noon somewhere, right? Le sigh. I didn’t forget this time, honest. Today just…grew legs and walked away from me. Let’s see. I had a dentist appointment at 11a.m. But see, I’d gotten to bed late (truthfully speaking, super late) the night before because work is madness right now (and so is my sleep disorder) so I ended up sleeping in a bit but still getting to the appointment on time. Yay me! Usual stuff there — no cavities, thank God, and I was back home. Worked a bit, then had to take our cat Hailey to the vet for fluids at 3p.m. A bit of a wait there. Not our usual time, since we usually go at 12 noon, but the dentist appointment required an adjustment. So got home, very quickly messaged a client about a few things that needed doing, put together a newsletter for her that needed to go out today, hubby came home, had dinner (leftover tacos, yummy), gave the cat her medication, worked a bit more, found out I didn’t have Esperanto today as my study partner had a power outage… Settled in to work on an editing job, a fun one, actually and…soon it was late. Very late. Oops. So here we are. Sometimes my days are like that. Rushing around, doing this, doing that. Sometimes I’m doing newsletter swaps, a type of free promotion, and because I do them in batches, usually I…

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Bringing the Fun Back

So I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and stumbled across this: Sweet-Ass Affirmations 2 / A Card Deck for Creative Maniacs . Of course I was intrigued. I followed the link, and discovered something truly awesome. It’s an affirmation deck, which is cool. Now I don’t currently own any, nor have I really delved into them before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything. But what got my muse all a-flutter was the idea of fun and play and creative and mania and bringing out the joy in life – because, c’mon now, we all need that, but for me, I’ve been thinking about this VERY THING. It’s like the Universe is giving me a gentle nudge. Synchronicity. Because I was just thinking that I needed to make my writing fun again. I’ve been struggling for weeks on my novella. I’m in the process of loosely plotting it, building a bit of a roadmap to follow, as is my process, and I’ve found myself horribly stuck. The idea was exciting and interesting and fun months ago when I thought of it. Now? It just feels like work. It could be that everything these days feels like work. Work’s been crazy, my sleep is still not right, I haven’t been feeling good about anything, the pandemic has been getting me down (we’re still not out of the woods, but that’s another post), and I just feel very….hopeless? Pointless? Crappy? Right now. I can’t even put my finger on it,…

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Second Chance

Part 1: Poltergeist a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro It started with the radio. I’d been listening to a talk show, not ready for music yet, as I went through my parents’ closet. The house was huge: four bedrooms, a living room, a family room, two bathrooms, and a basement to go through. I was doing it in stages. I needed to sell the house as soon as possible but going through their possessions tore my heart out and burned it for good measure.                 The talk show was some mundane thing about the government. I wasn’t even sure what. My dad had followed that crap. He was a guitarist, and he loved music, which is why I couldn’t bear to listen to it. I couldn’t bear to do a lot of things. In the wake of the plane crash that had killed my family — my parents and my younger sister, Penny — there was so much I had yet to do. So much to remember — do this, do that, fill this out, get that form in, pay these bills, arrange this… It was overwhelming me.                 Yet here I was with the closet open in an empty, now-sterile house with only memories and furniture and clutter to keep me company.                 I caught sight of one of my mother’s old sundresses, one that I remembered her wearing when I was a kid. I took the material between two fingertips. It had little sunflowers on it and…

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Writing Again!

So a few days ago, I started writing again for the first time in SIX MONTHS. Yes, my friends, six months. It’s the longest time I ever went without writing since 2003, I estimate, because that’s when I started writing every day. I’ve had pockets of time where I stopped, or had to stop, like when I finished the revision of Fey Touched in 2012 and was brain dead for two months, or when the trigeminal neuralgia flared for the first time in my left eye and I quit the computer for three months, thinking it was my heavy computer usage (spoiler alert: it wasn’t). But never, ever have I went six months without a word of fiction. I have written poems here and there, so words were written — just not fiction words. Why on earth would I do such a thing, you ask? Why put myself through such torture? And yes, it was absolute torture. I don’t recommend it at all. There were a few things going on. One, I simply didn’t have the time. Sounds lame, because who doesn’t have time to write, but it’s absolutely true. With my health being sucky and my energy being low, and every minute I felt okay devoted to work, there just wasn’t any leftover spoons for writing — except poetry. I was battling a sleep disorder and head pain as well, so those things just made it worse. I was still stressed from the pandemic. Things are getting better overall,…

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Searching for Consistency in Chaos

Yeah, that’s basically been my life for…gosh…since August of last year? Not counting COVID, just business stuff, now. Somehow the editing part of my business exploded and I started getting jobs way more frequently than usual…one after the other. While this was totally awesome and lucrative, it required some adjusting — from the way I structured my workday to the way I scheduled each and every job. And, for the most part, it hasn’t really let up since. Which is awesome. And a bit rough. And then we also have COVID in there, and the usual life stuff, and my health crap and and and… So things have been seriously off kilter for awhile. So much that I haven’t written in months. One of my editing clients, who I routinely talk shop with, asked me the other day how the writing was coming along and I had to honestly tell him that I’d written 181 words in January and that was it for the year so far. And some poetry. And in years past I’d written every single day. My least prolific year back then was around 86,000 words, back when I spent a bit more time editing than drafting. My most prolific year? 399,000 words. Four standard novels, folks. But back then I had 9-to-5 day job. I came home, ate dinner, and wrote. Rinse and repeat. For years. It was not only a routine, but a comfort. I knew I could always go into my worlds and play.…

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More Poems!

For our April freebie, I was in a poetry mood again. Here are more poems! Hope you enjoy! ~Erin Before Poetry We are made of star-stuff, Carl Sagan said But before poetry I was not a starEmpty, useless, aimlessstitched together crookedcobbled together with dust and boneand a muttered prayer over me I was not a vibrating pulsating thingmy heart lay deadgray and rottedmy silver strands of meaning severedparting gifts no light of creationcradled within But nowPoetry is lifeblood, red-hot and flowing through my veinsfire and tears, leaving echoes where they touched,It is the burning energy and the searing of passion,shining with silver gossamer light It is the infinitesimal spark of creation,lighting me up like a spirit in the darknessfilling me with purpose and meaningstitching me back togetherto myself Watch as my heart beats again, strong and surealive again Can you see it? It is meStar stuff. Secrets You tuck a strand of hair behind my earand your eyes meet minein them I see a perfect mirror image of myselfOn your bed, caught in repose, aftersweet communion.When I prayed the tide of years wouldn’tdrown usand our love was as vast as the ocean I pulled the Lenormand Fish card todayand it speaks of deep, deep connections Looking into your eyes, I can believe thatour souls have spent lifetimes intertwined We start a slow back-and-forth movement ofswings, our hands joined, our feet drawinginvisible pictures in the grass. I want to trace your fate lineand see if it matches mine— “We’ve much too…

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Life…One Year After Lockdown

So today is the one-year anniversary of our lockdown in Michigan. My husband was laid off from his job for two months. I was still able to work, as I work from home and in publishing, and publishing keeps going on, which is a good thing. I had a unique perspective on this entire thing because there was literally no break for me. I’ve worked this entire time, and there was no worry about when I’m going back, what would happen when I did, if my co-workers would be sick, if there’d be new protocols in place, etc. That stress did not happen for me, thankfully. It did happen for hubby, and it was pretty rough. Everything was rough. Him being home, while nice, was a bit different and required some adjustment to my routine. Having to do the unemployment thing — he couldn’t even register for weeks and weeks because too many people were filing in Michigan. Did your state have this issue, too? Once he did, he had to do the online certification thing, which was new to him. Thankfully, I knew how, being that I’d been laid off just three years prior. So I was able to guide him. And of course there were the changes to life in general. No more going out to eat. No takeout either in those early days. He couldn’t fish, which was one of his favorite things to do. It was too dangerous to be out there. We got all of…

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Why Lenormand is Like Esperanto

Hi, guys. I’m a day late, and I am so sorry. Yesterday I felt something gnawing on the back of my brain, something I was forgetting, but I was so busy, and I just couldn’t remember…I’ve been so incredibly busy with work that I literally haven’t done anything else. I mean, literally. Oh, I wrote 181 words one Wednesday in January only because my fellow Turtleduckers forced me to. (And it was GLORIOUS). But that’s it. Anyway, I was washing dishes today when it hit me like a lightning strike: I’d forgotten to blog here. AGAIN. <facepalm> So…life has changed a bit since we last “talked.” I’ve started learning Lenormand, which is similar to Tarot, and it’s been really interesting. And challenging. And frankly a bit frustrating. I guess it stems from knowing Tarot so well, and it being like an extension of myself that I literally don’t remember my struggles with it — it’s been years, folks. I mean, I started learning when I was sixteen, almost thirty years ago. And then in my twenties I continued on several non-standard decks, a big no-no, as there are no pictures to help make associations with the meanings, and I honestly don’t know how I managed that, as there weren’t the zillion Tarot groups or Facebook groups there are now, or websites that teach you meanings. It’s actually quite amazing. Anyway, Lenormand’s imagery is very simple, but its method of reading is more complex because you’re combining cards and meanings to…

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