What Did I Come in Here For?

Wings of Air
Heir to the Firstborn, Book 4

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John Zebedee and the Monstrous Town
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So I’m sitting and staring at the screen, and trying to remember just what I did over the past week. And I can’t think of a single thing. Not one. I mean, I know I did stuff. I wrote — my totals changed. I went grocery shopping. I exercised. I did my daily tarot pull, and I cleaned. My daily bullet journal shows I did all that.

I just don’t remember any of it. The past week is a blur.

I imagine it’s because I did much the same thing last week as I did the week before that… and before that… and before that. It’s been a long, weird pause, and it’s all blending together in my head. Things are all soft and smudgy and indistinct, like trying to see through the fog we’d have some mornings on the way to school.

No fog these days. At least, not so I would notice. My commute these days is up the stairs to make sure someone is in class on time, and down the stairs to exercise, then up the stairs after breakfast and shower to get to writing.  My house is too climate controlled for fog.

Has anyone else noticed that they’re more tired these days? And busier than they were when we were all going out and doing all the things? I think it’s because we’re trying to fill the gaps with distractions, and exhausting ourselves in the process.  That, and we’re exhausted just from the sheer weight of the uncertainty surrounding us.

I’m hearing from a lot of creatives that it’s been really hard to write/draw/do anything since quarantine started.  Even if you have time to sit, and no immediate distractions, all of the Muses seem to be in their own quarantine, and they’re not sharing our bubble.

How do you keep the creative juices flowing, when there’s so much going on?

For me? It’s one word at a time. Some days, it’ll take me all day to make 200, 300, 500 words. Some days, I won’t make that at all. Some days — usually the days I have Circlet Writing group — I might just make 1500 in two hours, because peer pressure is a thing, and it’s a thing that can actually work to your advantage if you use it right.

I have found that I have to keep writing or the demons win. The demons in my head, that is. It’s the same reason I exercise. It calms the brain weasels and allows me to function. So if I exercise, I’m more able to focus. And if I write, everything else will be okay. Because I know that the characters in my books are guaranteed that happy ending. So if I give it to them, maybe I’ll get one, too? Maybe we’ll all get one?

Sympathetic magic is also a thing, after all.

I’m not the only one thinking this, or something like it. Romance sales are going gangbusters. Because right now, we all need that happy ever after, even vicariously. We all need to escape.

We all need that little bit of magic. That little bit of hope.

49 days to the election. Vote Blue. We need the hope.

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Posted by EASchechter in 2020 plans, accountability, deep thoughts, fickle-muse-is-fickle, forthcoming works, John Zebedee, politics, progress, reality-is-stranger-than-fiction, thinking thinky thoughts, Wings of Air, WIP, wordcount, 0 comments

And so it begins…

Early morning thoughts over the first cup of coffee.

One of the news stations (MSNBC, maybe) reported last night at about 10:30 or 11:00 that Trump had gone off to be alone and write his victory speech.

Not review. WRITE.

Why don’t you prepare a speech? Because you don’t think you’re going to need it.

Trump didn’t think he was going to win.

I have the feeling that this morning at Trump Tower, there’s a very Wile. E. Coyote atmosphere: “Okay. I caught it. NOW what do I do????”

I’m hoping he’ll surprise us. Because the alternative is untenable.

Quoting my husband, who was quoting the Vorlons:

“And so it begins….”

Posted by EASchechter in deep thoughts, politics, random thoughts, reality-is-stranger-than-fiction, 0 comments

On perverts, hypocrites, and why your sense of humor isn't funny.

Allow me to set the scene. I am a crunchy-granola mommy. Not as crunchy as some, though. I’m more a been-left-in-the-milk-just-a-touch-too-long crunchy. I suppose you can call me a somewhat-soggy granola mommy. I wore my son until he was too heavy to wear comfortably, we’re doing child-led weaning, and I hope that he decides he’s weaned before he starts school. But we never co-slept, I am very much in favor of vaccines, and I don’t have the temperament to effectively home-school a little boy who is occasionally smarter than I am.  So I pick and choose from the Attachment Parenting menu.

Now, being a social creature, I’m on a mailing list with other AP mommies. We compare notes and talk about problems and the million little things that kids do. (I seem to be the go-to person about martial relations. Imagine that!) Last week, there was a thread on mommy paranoia, and how you should follow your gut instinct about who you let near your child. It was going well until someone chimed in, “Yeah, all men are pervs.” Another mom chimed in and agreed with that.


After letting it it stew for a few days, I called them on it. I asked them if they really thought about their husbands and sons that way, and pointed out that hateful speech isn’t funny, even in jest. The second mom almost immediately said, “You know, you’re right. There was no reason to say that.”

The first mom, the one who initially said “All men are pervs” attempted to justify her statement (what she called her stereotype) by using statistics. You see, since men think about sex ever seven seconds, and since most pedophiles are male, that meant that all men are pervs.


I called her on it again, very politely. I pointed out pervert = sexual deviant. So, by her logic, since men think about sex ever seven seconds, which as I understand it is normal, and since SOME men are pedophiles,  then all men are sexual deviants. I then asked her what her idea of sexual normalcy in males was.

Her response was that she was sorry she upset me, and hoped that we could move beyond this. In other words, she evaded the question.

I pressed on, pointing out that I wasn’t upset, I just didn’t understand what she was talking about and wanted clarification. That she was reacting with a surprising  bias, and that it looked like the upset was on her side of the screen.

At this point, the moderators of the list stepped in, and my part in the conversation stopped. The conversation, however, did not. In the past day, at least two more moms have asked her to explain what she was talking about, and asked her to define what she means when she says ‘pervert.’

She now claims that she was joking the whole time, and that we just don’t understand her sense of humor.

Now, here’s where the fun part comes in. Just for grins, I googled her. I know where she lives, and I know her full name. And based on her email, I’m pretty sure that the first hit on Google was her. This is the part that if I wrote this into a novel, the editor would have sent it back and said it was too far-fetched.

Because she’s a Relationship Counselor.

I restrained myself from saying, “Counselor, your bias is extremely unprofessional for someone in your field.” I was a good girl. And besides, that would have been overly stalkerish.

But now I’m wondering what the HELL was going on there? Because she’s the person who other people trust to help them in their marriages and relationships. How can she do that if she thinks all men are perverts?

The mind boggles, scrabbles and parchesis….

Posted by EASchechter in reality-is-stranger-than-fiction, 0 comments