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Month: April 2020

Hermit Habit

As I would imagine happened to a lot of people, I was furloughed the last week of March. So I haven’t worked in almost a month. I found out today that it will be an additional two weeks, so at least six weeks of not working. It’s so weird. I’ve been working for more than thirty years. This is…even when I had my kid, I was out for only six weeks. And I was super busy that whole time, recovering and taking care of the baby. Not going to work for weeks on end? Not having vitally important stuff I need to do right now for days on end? It’s so weird. But it turns out, I’m the weird one. I like it. Turns out, I am just as much of a happy hermit as I always thought I would be. The reasons for my hermiting suck, don’t get me wrong. I am quite cognizant that others are suffering, and I look for ways to help. But me? I’m home. All the time. And I love it. You’ll be astonished to learn I’m writing a book, I’m sure. I’ve been doing write-ins two to three times a day, where I and a varying number of friends gather in a text chat and sprint for ten minutes at a time. I write from one thousand to five thousand words a day most days. It’s a ton of fun. And my book is nearly 40,000 words! Naturally, one of the first things…

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Get Your Fluff On

In the past month or so, I’ve been working very hard not to get depressed, or panicked, or preoccupied with COVID-19 stuff. I figure…it’s everywhere, so why don’t I carve out a mental space where it isn’t? So, like last month, I’ve been doing Fluff. What is Fluff, you ask? Fluff is exactly what it sounds like. Fun stuff. Goofy stuff. Funny stuff. The mental equivalent of jello and popcorn. One rule: It can’t be SERIOUS. And God forbid, no pandemic! (Only exception: Pandemic parodies, because, well, they’re parodies. That’s fun and funny, right?) So here’s my list ‘o Fluff: Bachelor: Listen to Your Heart miniseries – Okay, okay, okay. I’d never dream of watching this any other time, but combining music, romance, and drama together? Sign me up! That’s like the definition of Fluff right there. And, oddly enough, I’ve actually been enjoying it. (I think we’re in an alternate universe somewhere). Romantic comedy novels – I do read these anyway, but I’ve been trying to read more right now. I’m about to start a boxed set about three friends who make a marriage pact only to be thwarted by a fortune teller who predicts that their weddings will be disasters. Sounds fun! It’s called The Wedding Pact Box Set by Denise Grover Swank And, in a similar vein, I am plotting my own romantic comedy novel. So take that, pandemic! Chantix Turkey commercials – Okay, this is more my hubby and me, but what the hell, might as…

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Help, This is Too Introverted Even for Me

I am introvert. I think many, if not most, writers are introverts. After all, most of us are perfectly happy spending an afternoon with our writing instruments of choice or a nice book, not being interrupted by other people. But, that being said, I do occasionally like to talk to other people. Hang out at a coffee shop. Go for a nice hike. Discuss writing with other writers (or get sidetracked on the latest scifi/fantasy books/movies/TV shows instead). But alas, we are all trapped. Except I am trapped with my family, which means I’m not actually getting any alone time, because if I go off on my own, someone will invariably set something on fire. (They haven’t yet, but you never know.) It’s a weird mix, isn’t it? Alone yet not, yet not in a combination that is generally helpful for anything. I’ve started having virtual coffee dates with my friends. They’re working okay, until one of our children arrive (or, in some awful cases, both of our children). Except I keep watching myself on the screen, or taking note of the fact that the pictures on the wall in the office continue to be crooked, no matter how many times I straighten them, or I somehow forget how to drink coffee and make a mess. But it is good to see people, even from afar, and even in weird circumstances. Even if half the time someone’s Internet glitches and then the whole thing crashes. (I made the mistake on…

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Life in the Time of Pandemics

One month ago, I was in here writing about imperfect friendships. Then the world entered a time warp called COVID-19, and ten years later, here I am again. What a surreal month it’s been, and from all accounts, things are going to get less like reality before they settle down into…well, whatever our new normal is, anyway. Last month, I was gloating about having had four weekends of contra dance in a row. I didn’t know then that our Leap Day dance would be our last for the foreseeable future, or that I would soon be really glad I decided to attend that dance weekend in February again. (For one thing, I bought a twirly skirt that weekend and wore it to one dance before everything ended. It’s the only contra dance skirt I can stand to wear right now. It cheers me up because it’s teal with purple patterns and swishes beautifully when I walk, but it’s not loaded with memories like my other skirts.) Four weeks ago, the dance organizing committee I’m on was debating whether it would be smart to cancel our March 14 dance. We could see what was coming, but hoped we could squeeze in one last event. But I’m glad we didn’t know we were saying goodbye on February 29…it would have been too sad. Three and a half weeks ago, all the schools here in Ontario closed, and we knew we had no choice but to cancel the entire rest of the dance…

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Curiosity Killed the Cat — Part 5

by KD Sarge Read previous installments: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 After a time sitting in the dark by the dripping stone, Srivasi sighed and lit his wand again. “Warn a fellow,” Dasid grumbled. He sat with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. He looked very young and very dirty. No, that wasn’t—well, yes, he was dirty. But his eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep, not dirt. He’d been stuck in that room at least a day before Srivasi dropped in, so he must be hungry too, though he didn’t complain. Srivasi knew well that at Dasid’s age, he himself would have been a whiny, sniveling mess who probably would have demanded to be carried by the poor adult who found him. “Your turn for the water,” Dasid murmured. The curved rock was full. Srivasi drank the water and replaced the rock. The drops were coming a little faster now. Srivasi leaned his head back and wondered why Jhi Bo didn’t come. She was trying, he was sure. She just—had a lot of places to look. And, probably, monsters to fight. She knew many things, but he didn’t think she could read Aduli, or answer a number of other questions he’d seen… Too late, Srivasi knew he should have just stayed in that first room, just pulled up a cushion and waited. She would have come soon…and maybe they’d still be lost and going in circles, but he’d have Jhi Bo with him, and that was worth…

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