Cubic Zirconia and Sequins Are a Fifty-Something’s Best Friend

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (Turn and face the strain)

Still don’t know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I’ve never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I’m much too fast to take that test

— Changes, David Bowie

I’m freaking sick of changes — with my writing, that is. I’m pretty sure I can find things to revise indefinitely. Every time I give a manuscript “just one more run-through, to polish it,” I find something to improve on. My critique partners attribute this to a kind of fear of flying — or fear of submitting, anyway — but, I promise you, this is not the case.

I was submitting things that I was absolutely sure were wonderful a year and a half ago. I want to crawl in a hole and hide when I think about those submissions. I know I could make them a lot better now, and I’m trying to do just that. The problem is, when will it end?

I’ve been a professional writer for about twenty years, making a decent — if not particularly well-paid — living by words on the page/computer. But I only dove into the fiction pool about two years ago. That pool is deep and murky and scary, but thrilling, too. Problem is, I’m still learning how to swim, fiction-wise.

I’m no spring chicken, and I’m used to writing-as-work. Deadlines? No problem? Marketing? Pshaw, I’ve been doing my own marketing for years. Working with editors, publishers? Been there, done that — and we’re still friends, even though my books are long out of print.

It’s an odd feeling to be old and new at the same time in this writing game. I’m learning things I thought I already knew, and my writing is getting better, both fiction and non-fiction. I’m confident about some aspects of my writing, while other things have me shivering like a kid in a haunted house.

You don’t have to tell me I’m writing this blog as a form of avoidance — hello? Why do you think I started the damn thing? But sometimes slipping over here gives the scene I’m stuck on a chance to coalesce into something smoother or sharper. (Come on, brain — I’m still waiting for that light bulb to go off!) I’ve deleted as much as I’ve written in this round of revisions, and I’m sure that’s a trend that will continue.

When will the changes stop? Will I ever be able to look at a story and say, “This is absolutely word perfect; there is nothing left to fix.” I have trouble imagining that. I read once that Garrison Keillor will mark up copies of his printed books with improvements he’d like to make — ooh, could I ever relate!

Bowie said it best: “My time was running wild, A million dead-end streets and Every time I thought I’d got it made, It seemed the taste was not so sweet.” That’s exactly how I feel whenever I think a story is just right. And the Faker — Imposter Syndrome — keeps insisting I retake that test. I’m sick of the bloody ch-ch-ch-changes, but I’m still not sure the story is ready to submit.

What about you? Does Imposter Syndrome cause you to make constant changes to your stories? Are you trapped in an endless cycle of revisions and write-and-delete, too? (Please don’t say it’s just me!)

How Do You Sleep?

A lot of sleeping goes on in books — especially romance novels. Of course, a lot of not sleeping goes on, too, but that’s a topic for another blog.

I was out of town recently, and my sister and I shared a hotel room at one point. “Which side of the bed do you take,” she asked. “I have to sleep on the window side.”

I thought about it. At home, I sleep on the side closest to the bathroom. (Too much information?) In hotels, I sleep on the side with the clock.

“The clock?” My sister was flabbergasted. “Who sleeps on the side with the clock? What difference does that make?”

Got me. All I know is, given the choice, I always pick the side by the clock and furthest from the TV (so I can read in relative peace).

I got to thinking about all the variables: twin, full, queen, king. One pillow, two, more than two. Quilt or duvet or bedspread. By the clock, bathroom, window — whatever. Night light or pitch dark? Silent or TV for company? Covers, or no covers?

And more than that — there are the positions: back, side or stomach. Early to bed or late? Read in bed or jump in and turn out the lights? Sleep alone, as a couple, with kids and/or pets? Pajamas or not? Toss and turn or sleep like a log? Dream or no dreams? Wake up with or without an alarm?

The whole concept of sleep seems incredibly complicated when I really think about it. By now, I’m wondering how we manage to sleep at all, after making all those decisions. Which might explain why I’m debating these issues at 3:30 in the morning instead of sleeping like a normal person.

So, tell me — what about you? How do you sleep?

Tapping into Tarot

Merriam-Webster defines tarot as:

Main Entry: tar·ot
Pronunciation: \ˈter-(ˌ)ō, ˈta-(ˌ)rō\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle French, from Italian tarocchi (plural)
Date: circa 1623
: any of a set of usually 78 playing cards including 22 pictorial cards used for fortune-telling

I’ve always been fascinated with tarot, but never took the time to study it. I’ve read countless books that featured tarot cards as clues or elements of the plot — cards like the Hanged Man, the Tower, the Magician and the Fool come to mind.

When the NEO chapter of RWA offered a tarot course taught by Arwen Lynch earlier this year, I signed up eagerly. I’d bought a very cool deck of art nouveau cards a year or two ago, and I figured I was ready to begin my education in divination.

The class was fascinating, and I did learn something about how to read the cards, how to draw and display cards, and what the Major Arcana were. Most of the participants had some idea of what they were doing, though, while I was totally clueless. Still, it was a start.

I still want to learn more — if I ever can find the time for a serious study of tarot. I have a sneaking suspicion part of the attraction is the gorgeous tarot decks I’ve seen. If I decide to work tarot into a story plot, that would give me justification to buy more of those beautiful decks!

What about you? Do you read tarot? Have you used tarot as a plot device? What are your favorite books that featured tarot cards?