May is here! And I don’t know what you’re writing these days, but I’m taking a giant stab at Story-A-Day May. I’ve managed it before, but I’m not sure this time how chemo treatments are going to get in the way. To be accurate, how the side-effects are going to get in the way.
But don’t we always have things to get in the way?
I like to post my stories in their rough, rough form over at my other blog The Fairy Tale Asylum. If you’re participating, let me know.
I don’t know how much about my life with breast cancer I want to blog about. But I’ve started an FB page to share this experience for what it’s worth. The FB page feels more conversational and more immediate. But the page isn’t for everyone. The blog format isn’t really working for me on this.
Anyway.
Click through and like if it’s a conversation you’re interested in: A Journey through the Carcinoma Wonderland.
Thanks.
The drains are gone! If you’ve ever had surgery that required post-op drains, you know how awesome it is to be drain free. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, google Jackson-Pratt drain. I chose not to take a picture of mine. It’s kind of hard to make them look pretty.
Writing about difficult subjects takes distance. At least for me. I can’t write well about anything I’m in the middle of. Can you? I don’t mean journaling, which is one thing. I mean, writing a story that speaks to other people, that conveys the emotion, trauma, insights of the experience.
I don’t plan to write a straightforward cancer narrative anyway. But I could add something to the Frankenstein’s monster story–the stitching and the bruising and the blood and the feeling of not being completely put together properly.
I’ve also got new thoughts on Rapunzel. Nothing like losing your hair to chemo to give you a new perspective on Rapunzel.
Life isn’t where I thought it was going to be. But that is often the case, isn’t it?
When I first wanted to be a writer (back when I was eight, I think), I knew nothing about the publishing industry. I didn’t understand how agents worked or what it took to get a book to readers.
A few years ago a young man told me he wanted to write a book so that he could make money. I didn’t know whether to laugh or pat him on the head.
Learning about cancer treatments has been much the same way. I had no idea about the medical industry. I didn’t understand how surgeons worked or what it took to get a mastectomy. I didn’t know about post-op shirts, drains, expanders, or being estrogen positive. I didn’t know terms like her2/neu, sentinel nodes, or lymphedema.
Well, live and learn.
I’m going to have a novel published soon. I’ll get this through this too.
Now I know that I will be having a double mastectomy. At least it’s decided.
One of the strange things about this new aspect of my life is actually saying, “I have cancer.” Just weird to say.
All these years and I thought it was weird to say, “I’m a writer.”
Ha.
What impossible things do you find yourself saying?
trying to relax this way
Here is what I know today.
First, I need wound care. This surgical incision–still bleeding after two weeks–isn’t healing properly. I’m looking forward to getting that out of the way.
After this wound clears up, my future holds a few more medical adventures.
I’ll be tested for Marfan Syndrome. I’ve been suspected before of having this, but now I’ll be properly tested. My mother died at 45 of an aortic aneurysm, and I’m 44. So. Seems I should have my heart checked. If I do test positive, my son will have to be tested as well. That’s the most worrisome thing of this whole mess. And we will both have a lifetime of echocardiograms.
And I’ve got this stage one invasive cancer that apparently is fairly common in women over 60. Women my age aren’t supposed to have it. Because of my, ahem, unusually dense breasts, regular mammograms won’t detect future cancerous growths. I’ve got a lot of MRIs to add to this lifetime.
More immediately, I’ll be having five to six weeks of daily radiation. I’m sure some of you out there have experienced that. I’ll find out what that’s like.
With luck and penny-pinching, we’ll be able to afford all this.
On one of the medical forms I filled out this morning, there was a question about my activities. I wrote that I taught and that I wrote. The oncologist asked me what I wrote. I told her I had a novel coming out this year. She asked me a bit about it and said congratulations. A little while later, she was speaking about my case in a dictaphone type thing, and she said, “The patient is a teacher and a novelist.”
My heart did a little squee. The oncologist said I’m a novelist!
It must be true.
Funny how so many of us–maybe not you though–need to hear someone else say it to make it feel true.
trying to relax
I’ve almost forgotten I blog.
Heading toward the Christmas season things took an unexpected turn. A routine mammogram ended in a biopsy and two surgeries, and I can’t say it’s all done yet. The main distraction is the incision that has continued to bleed for over a week.
There are plenty more serious health issues in the world, and I’m trying to keep this in perspective. But as far as annoyances go, seeing bandage after bandage fill with blood whether at work, hanging with the kiddo, or sleeping is maddening. Who wants to leave blood on sheets and pillows, bathrobes, towels, and bras?
Perhaps that is too much information. I might be beyond caring. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I knowledge of things like breast cancer was very limited. I had some understanding of chemo (No verdict yet on whether I’ll need radiation. Might not.) and like most of us I’ve seen all those pink ribbon campaigns, but it might have been helpful to have heard specifics. Have you ever had those moments when you look at a cut or a bruise or something not right on your body and you wonder, “Is it supposed to look like that?!”
It’s been a distraction.
With any luck, the worst of this is over and I can think. MOst of the time I don’t feel like I’m thinking. I just feel like I’m moving on to the next thing that needs to get done. Do you ever feel that way?
But I am still working on the line edits for my novel. That isn’t going to come out when I originally thought. Things have fallen behind. But my publisher and I are getting there, and that’s what matters.
the front of a card made by my mom–a self-portrait
We all have a story why we write or make art or create whatever it is we create. How far back does the story go?
Does my story go back to the first book I fell in love with? (Watership Down) Does it go back to my mother’s love of books? My grandmother’s love of books?
Does it have anything to do with books at all?
Does it go back to rarely being listen to and hardly ever believed?
Does it go back to my dad making up stories about the world around us?
Does it go back to my DNA coming together in just the right way?
Is a writer’s brain wired differently? Or does writing rewire the brain?
Does it go back to trying to remember something I forgot or back to trying to forget what I don’t want to remember? If you retell a story often enough, do you forget which version is true?
How true is your memory anyway?
How did you come to love books? (If you’re reading this I can’t help but think you love books. Am I wrong?)
It can’t be simply because you grew up surrounded by books. If you did. Some people discover books away from their home. They don’t grow up in a house filled with books, and yet they become writers.
I grew up in my father’s house. He had few books. he couldn’t read well. He had a Bible, a few Time/Life books, a dictionary, and a copy of Huck Finn. That was it.
My mother didn’t have many books in her apartment because she had no money for books and moved all the time. But she was always reading library and cheap used paperbacks that she’d sell. Grandmother didn’t have many books because she didn’t like the dust. She hated to dust. She didn’t buy many things because they’d have to be dusted. But she read library books all the time, took me with her, and if a librarian wouldn’t let me check out a book, my grandmother would check the book out for me.
I have hundreds of books. We have so many book cases and still I don’t have enough room for my books. But I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. I don’t notice the dust.
But shelves of books alone won’t make you a writer.
What makes you a writer?
After reading about what vampires get for Christmas, I was inspired to write my own holiday verse (something ink rather than blood inspired).
On the first day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
A contract with a publishing house.
On the second day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Two coffee gift cards and a contract with a publishing house.
On the third day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the fourth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the fifth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the sixth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the seventh day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the eighth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Eight days of solitude, seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the ninth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Nine writing awards-a-given, eight days of solitude, seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the tenth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Ten fans-a-leaping, nine writing awards-a-given, eight days of solitude, seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the eleventh day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Eleven editors cheering, ten fans-a-leaping, nine writing awards-a-given, eight days of solitude, seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
On the twelfth day of Writermas, my true love gave to me
Twelve bestseller weeks, eleven editors cheering, ten fans-a-leaping, nine writing awards-a-given, eight days of solitude, seven calls from Hollywood, six radio/tv interviews (including Terry Gross and Oprah). Five Star Amazon Reviews! Four reams of paper, three good massages, two coffee gift cards, and a contract with a publishing house.
*
May all the gifts you receive suit you. Happy Holidays.
(And you know, you can find me on facebook.)
an effort to draw a horse
A person is supposed to try new things, right? Like a year and a half ago I began speed quad skating. I thought it was a crazy thing to do, but now I love it.
In art, I’ve drawn a few things I didn’t think I could. Like a whale and a tiger. (Not together, mind you.) But I’m taking a break from art shows. I need something different to justify another show.
I want to try a comic. Or graphic novel. Whatever you prefer to call it. I have these two characters–Ink and Mirabelle–who are bunnies. Maybe I loved Watership Down too much as a kid. The story lines wouldn’t be about action, just their relationship. Maybe that’s boring? But Ink loves Mirabelle but Mirabelle being up on the moon more than she loves being on the earth with Ink. He tries so hard to persuade her to come back to him.
Ink and Mirabelle
And I want to write a series, but I’m not sure about that. Mostly I like the idea of being able to follow a character for more than one book. Creating a world and being able to go back there time and time again. The manuscripts I have written do take place in the same town (mostly), and some of the characters overlap. A main character in one story is a secondary character in another, and then has a tiny walk-on part in yet another. Maybe that can get too twee, but if I feel the character belongs there, I love doing that.
And I would love to try animation. Unfortunately, I don’t have the equipment for that. I’ve tried a few things, and they’ve been okay as far as experiments go, but they aren’t what I want to do really.
I’ve made a few handmade books. I definitely want to make more, but I can’t manage to sell them and they cost money to make. So they aren’t practical.
Wait. Is any of this practical?
I thought not.
Oh well. There’s too much to do, and I’ve got a book to edit for publication first.
What projects would you like to tackle? Anything you dream of doing?
