Art Anxieties and Other Adventures

Hello dear readers.

I hope today finds you well.

I am coming to you live from my new art making nook:

Newly dedicated writing and arting space. Also fuzzy.

I keep trying to figure out how to convince my heater that warm does not mean melting all the clocks in the house with epic heat and that likewise cold that stops time dead is not appreciated. These extremes should not be the only settings available, but my heater is unaware of this fact.

Even though it’s not going very well with the heater, other things are going VERY well for me, some for the first time in a long time:

  • Goth Gal is almost a year old and no one has threatened me to stop making comics or face the fish of pain.
  • Goth Gal is now on Tapastic and will hopefully be seen (and liked) by more!
  • My novel is almost two years old–still in first draft editing mode because life interrupted my plans.
  • I have a brand new freaking awesome professional art board to create stuff with thanks to donations from patrons at Patreon and GoFundMe.
  • I just sold my two paintings for the first time to a non-friend/non-family person.
  • And I was just promoted in my part time job to a much higher position.

Things are going well.

So why am I paralyzingly worried?

I should be dancing on the moon in a full on conga line with some little green (or gray) men (or women) right about now. Instead I find myself worrying that I will now not have time for art.

This may sound selfish to some. I know there are plenty who can’t get a job, let alone get promoted in a position that lets them work from home in their pajamas. This is the college dream–well this is someone’s college dream anyway. I saw enough pajama pants on campus to know that. Still, please don’t get the wrong idea: I am so overwhelmingly grateful and excited that I don’t know quite what to feel…but I am also downright terrified.

Why, you may ask?

My first thought after the excitement of the offer fizzled down was what if I don’t have time for art?! I then readily followed a bunny trail of thoughts down a dark road that involved my dreams being locked away in drawers as I was forced to deal with the practical things of life until I died of old age or alien invasion–whichever comes first.


Not my art. Anxiety Girl belongs to Natalie Dee (as far as I can tell).


In my epic level disaster scenario (which oddly does not include zombies at all), I age rapidly while my dreams abandon the obviously failed artistic writer person in search of sunnier shores (read people who make money off of their art and don’t have to work a non-art job). Right about now is when my more logical side started giving me the Ben Franklin stare-of-discomfort ™:

This is the face of a man who has seen things, or had his parking space stolen–hard to say.

My logical side knows all sorts of stories about all sorts of people who made it while doing a normal person job but it also knows stories of those who had everything going for them and somehow did not make it. (That latter part was really unhelpful logical side!) The one helpful thing my logical side did point out (before I stuffed it back in its cage) is that dreams are not in fact separate entities, so they can’t technically run away.

So, how am I managing this unhelpful fear of change/life/dreams/art?

Up until now, I’ve been working major overtime at work, helping other people with various things, hanging out with friends when possible (I’m so sorry Blanka–I totally forgot until yesterday and I really did have a message sitting in “send”. I WAS NOT FLAKING ON YOU!), and doing all the other things people have to do in life to stay alive.

All of that really needs to change.

The new position means I don’t need to work overtime. Being that I’ve been working almost 80 hours a week for several months and doing Goth Gal and doing all the other stuff, this is a HUGE relief (I began this job as a part time job…life had other ideas). However, a leadership position means more time in other ways. Plus, even without overtime, it is still hard to work a job and create art. And for me it may be harder than for most because I have some remnants from my major health issues of last year that I am still battling. I will be taking some health steps soon in an attempt to cleanse all of that–but that’s another post for another day.

So, to fix my quandary, and make sure my dreams are fed and watered properly, I am setting up some boundaries!

Yay–wait what?

I know, it sounds kind of boring, and vaguely like an adult thing… and even maybe not inclusive. Really though it’s more like YAY! because it is inclusive and I am totally NOT adulting.


So boundaries, how can they help?

Well Tim, boundary inc. guarantees that as long as you enforce their patented boundary technology, you will be able to decide things and mostly stick to those decisions.

Subject to terms and conditions, special offers do not apply, not applicable in the case of natural disasters or health issues.

Or, in other words, I’m blocking off specific days and times for art. I’m also overhauling my schedule completely. I will do art in time slots before work because that is the only way I can really stick with this. Different strategies will work for different people, but this is what it has to be for me. Nothing but art will fill these specific slots because I will guard them like a rabid hyena. That’s my job. In return for providing them some dedicated time, the dreams with stick around with me as long as I feed them.

Which is why I am sitting here typing this at 6am…my eyes hurt.

Normally, I don’t get into work until noon. This means I’m up all night then get up and go to work. Unfortunately this also means that by the time I get to me time, or art time, or writing time, I am tired and I don’t have much drive left to push myself with. So, I end up giving myself permission to take off JUST THIS ONCE. Which of course becomes JUST ABOUT EVERY TIME.

So, from now on, I get up in the wee hours of the morning and I get to arting and writing and my million and one projects that are always flowing through my head screaming PICK ME!!!!! This is also why I made the new nook. I need a space my brain doesn’t associate with my normal job that is easy to get to when I’m bleary eyed. (Right now I am convinced coffee is nature’s superpower). I have also dedicated my weekends to creating deadline specific art so that I am not overwhelmed during the week with it. And I am going to take at least 30 minutes to write every single day. Arting needs to be as much a priority in my life as eating, sleeping and working for my paycheck.

No art can be created without TIME; it is one of the most important ingredients. Many of us (I am looking at you here dear readers) beat ourselves up about our imperfect art. Yet usually we are stealing moments in between other moments to be able to make the stuff in the first place. So in essence you and I are creating time in between the ticks of the clock. That’s magic as far as I am concerned.

Getting off of a full time job and working on your novel even though you are worn out is MAGIC. Painting even though you are going to school and working a part time job is MAGIC. Making videos and uploading them to Youtube even though you have crippling anxiety is MAGIC.


Ongoing art making is nothing short of heroic. Ongoing art making when you have a million things vying for your time and you have to provide for your family is nothing short of miraculous. So good job to those of you making it despite the odds. To those of you making art in the wee hours of the night because you have to be somewhere in the early hours of the morning: I salute you and admire you, even though we might never meet. You are amazing people.

And to those of you who want to make art, but keep waiting because you are busy or tired or worried, it’s ok. Start small right this very minute. Try to take as little as 15 minutes each day to spend on art. You don’t need fancy tools–any pen and paper will do. My novel started out as random snippets doodled in notebooks and grew from there. Eventually you will find that what art gives back to you is greater than what you put into it. Don’t wait for life to give you the time, because there will always be a more practical thing waiting to fill it. You must take the time you need, life will not give it to you. The struggle is worth it. Somewhere, someone desperately needs your art.

Imagine a world where David Bowie didn’t try because he didn’t believe he was good enough. Even as we grieve his loss, we see his huge impact on the world. If he can do it, you can do it. If you aren’t sure this art thing that you want to try is really what you want, experiment. Art is everywhere if you are looking for it. You can try 50 different art forms until you find one that clicks with you. You don’t have to go all in at once. Work on little dreams. If you take some time out to care for your little dreams it gives them the chance to grow into big dreams.

Take time.

Make art.


Until later my dear readers. ❤



Let's Make This Day Hero Day

Hello all.

I read the news of David Bowie’s death and hoped it was a hoax. I could be mad later, as long as it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true after all. This was David Bowie they were talking about. If anyone can be immortal, surely it would be him. I mean, he’s the Goblin King…


But, it wasn’t a hoax…

Somewhere between two beats of my heart I understood.

I mourned, I sang, I slept (somehow) and I awoke.

But he, a man who has been so influential in so many ways…a man I connected with before my teen years because he was the Goblin King, because he was the only artist I had ever seen who was like a chameleon, because so much more… He would never wake again on this plane.

I am writing this just before I have to go into work.

I want to call off. I want to sit and mourn and think of this great man that we lost, but I’m not going to. I am going to do something I think he would have liked better.

I’m going to help someone today on purpose. I am going to be a hero to someone, just for one day.

So I say we mark David Bowie’s death as hero day.

We find someone who needs something and we help them.


Share this post, share the idea of this post, make this thing viral. Make David Bowie’s death day Hero Day.

Help me do this internet.

I think the Thin White Duke would like the idea too.

RIP David Bowie, you sir are immortal to me.

“I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be heroes, just for one day

We can be heroes
We can be heroes
We can be heroes
Just for one day…”

The Best & The Worst

Hello dear readers.

It’s been a while since I posted here.

I’ve had many, many ideas but no time / brainpower with which to write.

So, here I am, thinking myself into quandaries as usual. 😉

Today’s musing will cover topics as diverse as Alice Cooper and Murder She Wrote.


You heard me right.

So without further adieu, here we go.

I have been quite active on social media the past few weeks. This is due to many factors including lack of creative energy, crazy work schedules, producing/promoting Goth Gal, losing and gaining patrons and a sort of general malaise that comes with the Post Halloween insanity that seems to take over America every year.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE giving gifts to people. Carefully choosing something for someone you love, watching their face light up when they open it (or cringe depending on what you’re going for) and meals with people I love are great. The insane commercialism on the other hand that hits at midnight on October 31st, I could do without.

Seriously retail places:

Stop pushing products at me. You really don’t change what I am going to buy AT ALL. Also, I’m artistic so I can make  A LOT of my gifts.

SALE SALE SALE BUY BUY BUY messages do nothing but make me AVOID spending my monies with you.

The CUSTOMER is almost NEVER right–please adjust accordingly.

And finally, GIVE YOUR EMPLOYEES PAID TIME OFF to spend their holidays with the people they love.The rest of us can wait a day, or a week or whatever, to buy whatever it is we want.

Okay, retail rant over.

One shopping type thing I have been enjoying is Apple Music. It keeps me from spending way to much on music when I launch into a music obsession. If you have iStuff and you tend to move from obsessive music binge to obsessive music binge (as in MUST HEAR EVERYTHING BY NEW ARTIST), get yourself an apple music family plan. 14.99 per month for up to 6 people. I am THERE. I mean okay I literally AM there…but you know what I mean. 6 friends could totally make this worth it too–if you trust your friends to pay you for their iPurchases.

I’ve been on an Alice Cooper binge this week and I have really been enjoying it. My current favorites is Along Came a Spider, if you’re interested.

Spiked top hat. Need I say more?

I WANT YOU…to dieeeeeeeeeeeee. (okay he really doesn’t. However, it reminds me of that Uncle Same “I WANT YOU” poster…)


Speaking of death, I have also been spending a lot of time with Mrs. J.B. Fletcher in Murder She Wrote and thoroughly enjoying Murder She Blogged‘s commentary. I now frequently add “of death” to names. Seriously if you like JB, check it out! I happen to think JB is pretty sweet myself.


She’s like Auntie Holmes or something. I firmly believe that my childhood love of this show has completely blinded me to any flaws–you have been warned.

Speaking of flaws (I am SOOOO obvious with my transitions this evening), I have also been pondering social media.

What was that noise?

Oh, it’s just all the people reading this having a different reaction.Gotta slow down on the murder mysteries…

Social Media is a strange unique beastie that brings out the strange and unique in the people who use it–for better or worse.

I have had a blast and been very uplifted by kind comments and people enjoying Goth Gal. But I have also experience such things as being told off for dressing as a sugar skull for Halloween because culture (well actually Dia de los Muertos is a cultural mixing bag to start with), watched people dis the recent explosion of the French Flag everywhere (bad job everyone who uses a symbol?) and general asshole-ishness.

It seems to me like 97% of the people on social media are either OFFENDED BY EVERYTHING HOW DARE YOU!!!!! or are offensive about everything we hate this other group because reasons!

I am neither of these groups.

If I offend you, it probably wasn’t intentional.

I do not hate anyone unless they cause pain/suffering/death on purpose.

So, to recap, DON’T cause pain/suffering/death on purpose and I won’t have any problem with you.

Also, I will not live my life in an “Oh no I might offend someone better not do _____” bubble.


We are all imperfect people who screw up, fall in love, are amazing and horrible and more all at once.

Social Media is blowing all of this out of crazy proportion because of MANY reasons.

It’s sort of bothering me because I see it, even contribute to it at times and other then signing off…I don’t know how to fix it. And signing off seems like running away from the problem.

Yet, it depresses me more than I know how to express when I see someone attack something like posting a flag over a profile picture or yell at someone for their lack or possession of a specific cultural heritage.

It just brings up this question: what is wrong with us?

Why can’t we spend time actually helping instead of judging everybody?

Spend all that debate energy helping someone!

I will continue to ponder all of this lest this post become never ending.

So, for now, I’m going to leave you with Neil Gaiman’s words, because I think of them often and because they echo the fairy tales I took to heart in my youth:

Instructions, by Neil Gaiman

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before, 

Say ‘please’ before you open the latch,

go through,

walk down the path.

A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted front door,

as a knocker,

do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.

Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat nothing.


if any creature tells you that it hungers,

feed it.

If it tells you that it is dirty,

clean it.

If it cries to you that it hurts,

if you can,

ease its pain.


From the back garden you will be able to see the wild wood.

The deep well you walk past leads down to Winter’s realm;

There is another land at the bottom of it.

If you turn around here,

you can walk back, safely;

you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.


Once through the garden you will be in the wood.

The trees are old. Eyes peer from the undergrowth.

Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She may ask for 


give it to her. She

will point the way to the castle. Inside it

are three princesses.

Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.

In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve months sit about a fire,

warming their feet, exchanging tales.

They may do favours for you, if you are polite.

You may pick strawberries in December’s frost.


Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where you are going.

The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferryman will take you.

(The answer to his question is this:

If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to leave the boat.

Only tell him this from a safe distance.)


If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.

Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that

witches are often betrayed by their appetites;

dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;

hearts can be well hidden,

and you betray them with your tongue.


Do not be jealous of your sister:

know that diamonds and roses

are as uncomfortable when they tumble from one’s lips as toads and 


colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.


Remember your name.

Do not lose hope – what you seek will be found.

Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their 


Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and trust your story.


When you come back, return the way you came.

Favours will be returned, debts be repaid.


Do not forget your manners. Do not look back.

Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).

Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).

Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).


There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is why it will not 



When you reach the little house, the place your journey started,

you will recognise it, although it will seem much smaller than you


Walk up the path, and through the garden gate you never saw before 

but once.

And then go home. Or make a home.


Or rest.

Copyright NEIL GAIMAN, not me.

(please don’t sue me, I’m trying to speak in feelings and I’m not paid for this at all. In fact it costs me to keep this website going. Also, I have no money anyway. So please don’t sue.)

Be safe everyone.


All the NEWS


I have been in an artistic bubble pondering things for days and today it popped–thank you job that said no to me.

Before I really begin, I just want to say that all of the projects below will be available for FREE on this website, ghouline, and This will not change NO MATTER WHAT. You can visit, read, watch, enjoy without giving me a dime.

I make art. I share that art with the world. This update is NOT me asking for money. I have linked to patreon, only in case you are interested in more than that.

I repeat: ALL the things are available FOR FREE.

(That said, there will be high resolution versions available for patrons, along with other rewards.)

So, like I said, I have been pondering things for DAYS. I decided I needed to go all in with my art. I’ve been holding back, afraid I’m not good enough, afraid I am not a “true” artist, afraid the fact that I haven’t made it means I’m not going to…well NO MORE.

I’ve edited, compiled, created and altered. I’ve come up with ideas, plans, projects and something of a release schedule. I’m going to use my websites as best I can. There are three projects currently running: Goth Gal, Alison:Wonderland and Ghouline. More projects will be announced, rewarded, and offered as time goes by. Some in the future will perhaps be pay only–we’ll see how it goes.

Current Projects:

Goth Gal is a web comic strip similar to the Addams family. It follows a crusty yet lovable gothic gal in search of quiet darkness and never-ending coffee. There are a host of other characters including Rebel Ray, Coffee Cat, Apro Academic, the Goth Black Girls, and the Gothic Bunch–just to name a few. Come goth on with Goth Gal! Comics are released three times a week on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Alison:Wonderland is a mix between a manga/comic that follows the adventures of a girl named Alison and her hacker handle Wonderland in the near future. The comic merges the magickal girl genre with technology, information control, wonderland, and life. A comic page will be released once a week on Thursdays starting in November

Ghouline is entertainment to raise the dead. The youtube series follows after the grand tradition of horror hosting. Ghouline will be your creepy-cute guide through horror video games, and possibly classic horror films as well. The series will begin in October. (I will add a more solid release schedule here soon.)

Keep reading if you’re interested in supporting me. If not, I hope you’ll view my work in the coming days. ❤

Want to Support my Art?

I am also now pleased to announce that I have the weirdest patreon page in existence–probably. If you’re still reading, I will assume you have some interest in supporting me as an artist/writer/musician/filmmaker/creator person. So, yay!

Anything you can give is SUPER appreciated. You can also limit things if you’re only interested in one project or if you want to give but can only afford a few times rather than every time.

My patreon banner shows some of the current projects:

Patreon All New

Reward structures start at 0.50$ and go up to 100$

Rewards include: HD multi-wallpaper packs, high resolution downloads of art and comic pages, a goodies grab bag, behind the scenes access to doodles and sketches and more, a goodies grab bag filled with physical rewards liked signed art and finger puppets and WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE, a lifestream where I give you a tour of my house, or take you through my day or (almost) ANYTHING really.

If you are interested in any of the above, please consider supporting me. Visit patreon to see the full rewards and project details:

Thank you for reading! ❤

I Am Not the Best Thing Ever and That's Okay

Hello dear readers!

It is currently a lovely *trying to pretend it’s fall* day.

It’s eighty degrees where I am, but there is a breeze…and some falling leaves.

It’s FALLLLLLLLL I tell you!

As you may have deduced, fall is my favorite season. It’s been that way as long as I can remember. I love the (typical) chill in the air, falling leaves, pumpkin EVERYTHING, and Halloween stuff everywhere (finally my music is seasonally appropriate).

Today’s musing is on not being the best–as you probably ascertained from the title. Before I get to that, a few words on my morning ritual.

My morning ritual is fairly drab. I wake up, check Facebook for a while, get tea or coffee or guru energy and some breakfast, and watch some Tales From the Darkside (or something similar) for a little while. Then I get about whatever I need to do that day.

This morning I was perusing Facebook like normal when I came across some very good art by the amazing sakimichan (warning, some of her stuff is NSFW). I perused her awesome art with a feeling that began as awe and became insecurity as I looked.

In my head I was comparing my art to hers. Mine, I felt, would be at home in preschool, while hers belonged in galleries. (The logical part of my brain neglected to toss in that my main career choice is actually writing and I have no real technical training in art.) As I struggled with these feelings, I decided to try painting a character into existence.

Normally I am very line focused. I create a line drawing in pen or digital–pencil I always manage to smudge too much. Then I focus on coloring, shading and all the rest. So, today I started with blobs of paint in a human-ish shape and went from there. One hour later, here was the result:

Blue Experiment
Blue Experiment

Now, this is a far cry from Sakimichan. I was frustrated with myself. I mean really why couldn’t I simply draw something like this:


Then, I stopped to think about it. My girl looks fairly human, and her hair (which took FOREVER) has an effect I’ve never seen before… I actually decided I liked the drawing. I had challenged myself and created something new–not bad.

I went on with my morning (website updates GALORE today) then hopped over to my patreon to see if anything needed updated. I started looking into other patreon members…and went through basically the same frustrating process as I had with my art. My thoughts went something like: I am broke. My art is not making money. All these other very good people are. My art must suck, or maybe my jokes suck, or maybe…marketing?

My mum is a business type person, I am not. Marketing myself is like some foreign  language that I need a translator for. It doesn’t help that I despise false positivity. I refer to the EVERYTHING IS GREAT WE DO NOT FEEL NEGATIVES EVER culture that pervades corporate reality in my experience. I am not dissing genuine happiness and optimism. Being happy is totally great. So, my brain sort of hisses at words like “marketing” and “branding” and other terms like them when I apply them to myself.

However, I decided to be brave. Maybe my own artistic self was getting in my way. (Read: maybe I didn’t suck as much as I thought.) I looked up web marketing for oneself. It was like a bizarre labyrinth of bright colors, bad web design and BUY BUY BUY NOW NOW NOW. After a few hours, I found very little useful info that common sense and normal internet use wouldn’t provide. In other words, I found NOTHING. I gave it up as a bad job and stared at other people’s patreon pages trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong. Loading Artist for example is great and funny and living off of his art. (Way to go Loading artist!)

I still haven’t figured out what I’m doing wrong.

I did, however, figure out some interesting things about myself:

1 – I make art for me.

If you are making art only for others, you will quit long before you make any impact on the world. I thought about what would happen if Goth Gal or my other projects never made me a dime. Would I stop doing it?


I love making Goth Gal. I make her first and foremost for me. I’m glad I get to share her with everyone else, but I would still make this comic, even if I was the only person on the planet. Maybe that sounds weird, but I’ve been doodling her in notebooks for years now just for me.

2 – I am my only real competition.

I am not competing against the talented Sakimichan, or Loading Artist, or anyone else, not really. I am competing with myself. I try to improve because I want to make the best thing I can possibly make, not because I compare myself to those around me.

I do realize that, as a human being in a world of human beings, there are times I will compare myself to others. That’s okay, as long as I don’t get stuck there. It’s okay as long as it doesn’t poison the passion I have to create, the heart of my creativity you might say. (You can’t spell heart without art, after all.)

3 – I’m not the best and that’s okay.

Artists, Writers, Musicians and others like them are a strange breed. We aren’t so much competing against each other as swimming with each other in the same impossibly large ocean. Learning how to navigate it and survive is difficult, but not impossible.

In other words, I don’t have to be the best, I have to be my best.

That distinction may seem tiny, but to me, it’s the difference between beating myself up with comparisons and being able to enjoy the other artists around me.

After these realizations, nothing external changed. I’m still broke, I still have the exact same problems, I still wonder how to do this thing called life…but now I feel better about it. I can enjoy the swim instead of dragging my fins. As one great fishy once said, just keep swimming.

I hope this helps another fishy out there.

PS – I just published my first set of goth gal comics on the amazon kindle store.

Q1 - Cover

Volume One contains the first 60 comics in high quality format. Visit this link to check it out! Kindle is compatible with PC, Mac, iOS, Android and of course kindle devices. If you have kindle unlimited you can read it for free too! Goth on!

Post Draft One Depression

This was me. Image NOT mine. It belongs to
This was me yesterday.  PS – Image NOT mine. It belongs to


On Thursday at around 4 am (so technically it was Friday) I finished the novel!

My readers who are also writers are shaking their heads sympathetically, because they think that I actually believe, in my naïveté, that I’m finished, and they know the hardest part is editing. They may even be wondering how they can break the news to me gently.

Don’t worry.

I know I have really only finished the first draft of my novel and now begins the grueling editing process.

Still, an interesting thing happened.

I finished my draft at 4am. I was dancing around the house till 8:30 am, at which point exhaustion (I’d been going for several days by that point) caught up with me. I woke hours later, expecting the euphoric rush to return…no rush came. In fact, quite the opposite happened. A rush of sadness hit, a feeling of “something is missing” permeated, and I did not want to be awake. Apparently my Frankenstein comparison was closer than I realized. I was joking, the metaphor was not.

Every Friday night, well almost, my peeps and I gather at my house. We do many random things that normal people would perhaps not enjoy, but I enjoy it immensely. We have done everything from the mostly normal practicing of watching movies, to filming movies that were very bad to turning the house into a roller rink. Okay, I admit I made that last bit up, but I would do it if I could! (Note: I cannot actually skate. I can barely stand on skates. I skate about as well as a penguin flies… Still, I dream of skating well…someday.)

Sorry, I got lost there for a minute. Back to the topic at hand! One of the lovely peeps joked that my mood was postpartum depression, because I had just given birth to my book baby. I think maybe this is closer to the truth than he realized.

I also made the mistake of watching an amazing, world renowned fantasy story’s film. Then, I made the even larger mistake of comparing my new, unedited, baby book to this polished mammoth of a thing. DO NOT DO THIS.

I repeat, DO NOT DO THIS.

It will make you think your book is the literary equivalent of toilet paper. Which of course, it isn’t. It’s not done yet. It’s still in diapers. It might even be crawling around putting things in it’s mouth. This is okay. This is healthy for the book baby. Let the book baby breathe, explore and stick the shoe in its mouth if it wants to. Make sure to keep an eye on it around the stove though.

Today, after finally getting some sleep, I thought about these things for a while. I also made some changes to my story while some unknown part of my brain put all of these things together.

So, if you are a new author and you think you hate your story. DON’T. Walk away, sleep, see people, do something, eat food, drink coffee (DRINK COFFEE ALWAYS). When you get back to your book baby, you’ll remember why you love it again. Honest. It may take a little while if the stinker had smeared poo all over the walls, but still, give the baby a chance to grow into something better.

We all only get to be young once.

Except me. I am Peter Pan.

Okay, I’m not really Peter Pan, but since when did reality get a say in my life? I hear the baby is crying to be changed with my new-mum ears, apparently it’s time to get back to work.

Keep fighting friends.

Stopping to get Going

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Hello dear readers.

I missed blogging here last week. I did not even realize my mistake until around Thursday. At which point I decided to wait until today. Consistency is clearly not my strong suit. I had a good reason, which you will soon see…at least I think I had a good reason.

Today’s musing is about stopping to enable one to keep moving forward. (Cue Meet the Robinson’s–epic film.). It sounds like a contradiction. Why would stopping help a person get going? Well, stop for a moment and I shall explain.

The past week has been very unproductive. I just moved and I have tons of boxes that still need sorted, unpacked, dejunked and otherwise seen to. These boxes have for the most part been sitting in storage for 2.5 years waiting for me to move. Now that I’ve moved, they are sitting in my living room in a pile of hugeness. My living room is like a jungle. Even if you can manage to get around Mt. Boxville, the leopard of lethargy may grab the unwary traveller.

I should add that I do not do well with long projects. Give me a task that requires a short burst of energy, I am all over that. Give me a task that is a plodding, drawn out event…I sputter and die. I end up passed out in a corner, awaiting the inevitable end. Yes, I really am that dramatic.

So, what does any of this have to do with stopping to get going?

The past week, as I said, has been VERY unproductive. The past few weeks have actually been very unproductive. It has mostly been spent feeling awful about everything, hating that I seem unable to move things faster, not being able to write, having technical problems and finally languishing in stomach agony as a punishment for eating some cheese (I am very allergic to dairy, but occasionally I will convince myself I am cured and have some…so the dairy gods punish me for my insanity).

I moved in mid April. It was one of those slow awful moves where you have to go in bursts over a few weeks because you can’t afford the normal moving process. Then you have to carefully worry over every nickel and dime so you don’t get stuck halfway. Oh, and you end up moving anything below 200 lbs by yourself or with anyone insane enough to help. By the end of this process, two months later, I was beyond done. I took a week off from everything. I no longer cared. I was done…except I wasn’t. Things still need sorted and dealt with and on and on. The week wasn’t enough. I tried taking it a day at a time. This worked a little, but not nearly enough.

So basically for the last month, I have been trying and failing to push myself hard enough to do much of anything. It was as if the harder I pushed, the less able I was to do what needed doing. I also discovered how fun Skyrim could be–someone gave it to me for a present two years ago and I rediscovered it. This time I actually tried playing in the areas meant for my level and not an insane level dungeon I stumbled into at level 5. I gained 7 levels, but it was not fun. Now, it is SO fun. I want the new Elder Scrolls Online…bwahahaha…Ah, video games…amazing stories and visuals mixed with a you-choose-the-story’s-path…how could I be anything but hooked?

I got distracted there for a moment. The point is, the harder I tried, the more my psyche dug its feet in and refused to move. I accepted its refusal. This week, I stopped trying to force it…and then the strangest thing happened. Suddenly I little by little began starting to move things again and sort things and work on my book in bursts.

I feel like I am coming back to myself after a long absence. This is a nice feeling. The most productive thing I had been able to do consistently up to this point was Goth Gal, and even she had to be put on hold this past Friday due to some technical issues. (She’ll be back tomorrow as that’s all sorted, in case you are wondering.). Now however, I am having ideas again, the writer blood is flowing and my boxes are getting unpacked, as if  by magic.

Because I allowed myself to stop when I needed to, I can now begin to go again. Maybe you are similarly stuck. Maybe you have been pushing and pushing and pulling and pulling, all to no avail. Try stopping and see if it helps you get going.

If it does, or if you have had a similar experience, could you let me know in the comments?

I Was a Weird Kid


Hello dear readers!

I hope the day went well for you. I mostly moved from wilting spot to wilting spot much like a slug, complaining about the boiling temperature at each spot.

I do not do well with heat. I would much rather be cold than I would hot. I realize for most people this is probably not true, but I am weird. Speaking of weird (Nice transition there, right?), today’s musing is on being weird. I was a VERY weird child. This was due to a number of factors, none of which matter for today’s musing. The point is that I was in fact weird.

I talked by myself…a lot. I liked dead things. I carried around a rubber pterodactyl instead of a fluffy bunny or bear. I adored cats to such an extreme degree that I once followed one into a perfect stranger’s home (I am so sorry perfect stranger.).


I am not going to tell that story right now.

Seriously, no.

Stop looking at me like that.


Moving on, Where was I? Oh yes, I was WEIRD.

Yesterday I happened across an article that discussed creative types who altered the world (like Steve Jobs) spending time alone and just how important that was. It resonated very strongly with me. It wasn’t until the lovely problems with insanity left a comment on my web comic Goth Gal that this message really clicked and set my wheels spinning. Weird kids = weird adults. Weird adults make art for the weird kids who become weird adults and on and on. Weird is GOOD. Weird is fun and crazy and different. Weird keeps the world going. Weird breaks up the monotony of everyday life. So, here’s to the weird ones, as Apple once said.

PS – I’m moving these weekly posts to Sunday as of next week. Saturday has become too troublesome for me. Hopefully I will have time for longer musings then as well! 🙂

Sometimes I Forget Things



I was sitting in my house enjoying a nice breeze when suddenly I realized I forgot to blog yesterday. When this thought successfully burrowed its way into my brain, I rushed over here to write this.

I am of course aware that, despite my slight egomania, you dear readers do not in fact hang on my every word. Probably you did not even notice my absence, unless you per chance happened across something that reminded you of this blog. Even then, it most likely did not cause more than a momentary pause.

So, today I am musing on forgetting. I have more experience with forgetting than most people. I am missing a good portion of my life (about half) to the murky sees of forgetting. Psychologists claim that you actually remember everything. It’s your ability to recall these memories that becomes damaged. I hope to tell this story some day, but not here, not now. Now I want to thank about what happens to one when they lose this ability to recall.

I have heard many times that we are the sum of our experiences. If this is so then what can be said for those who are missing crucial experiences? Does their very absence provide an experience all its own? I think so. Even the memories that are unable to be recalled will work their way into a form of memory. You might feel them physically, or you might for no apparent reason suddenly feel the need to leave a place, or go to a different place.

The mind is an endlessly fascinating creature to me. I once heard that it has more connections in it than stars in the universe. I thought it was a beautiful statement. I since learned that this information is most likely false. I say most likely because all theories that attempt to number the stars are in fact theories. Until we get there, we won’t know for sure how many there are.

I would modify the statement to say that the human brain has more possibility than there are stars in the universe. The stars are (theoretically) finite, the possibilities of the human mind are not. At least, that is what I think. I am sure a legitimate astronomer would be able to clarify my statement with fact, but I don’t believe an astronomer could disprove it entirely.

Speaking of astronomy, a friend and I were recently discussing the fact that we humans are made of stardust. Everything we are is thought to have resided in the heart of a star. This is beautiful and poetic and fascinating all at once. The mad scientist in me wants to examine the stardust, to see what secrets it might hold, even in these forms. The mad artist in me wants to write sonnets immortalizing the beauty of the idea and paint pictures. I think I’ll settle for a cup of coffee now, some sketching today, and some stargazing tonight…unless of course I forget.

Until next time dear readers.

Just A Quick Stop


Hello kiddies…

My apologies. I seem to be watching far too much Tales From the Crypt.

If you have been with this blog for any amount of time, you may notice this post is late. Truth be told I have been under the weather recently–I watch horror shows and nothing but horror shows when I feel ill. Or read horror books, comics, listen to horror music etc. (you get the idea). As a child I was a lot like Alvin from Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet the Wolfman. Horror was my LIFE and then adults tried to take it! But I shall tell that story some other time.

Hopefully I’ll be back to my old self soon. Until then I just wanted to stop in and say hi.


Also, I just saw Creepshow for the first time. If you like horror, classic E.C. comics or Stephen King, you would probably like this film. The opening credits were all nostalgic for me.

I am going to crawl back into my coffin now to get some rest. (Ok I confess I really don’t have a coffin large enough to sleep in, but I DO have an evil lair!)

Until next time!