I seem to be in a good writing groove at the moment (knock on wood, fingers crossed, step on a cat... wait, no). I've hit a pocket of ideas for the second book that I'm exploring and it's turning into some interesting copy.  I have a rough outline and an idea of the big story arc, but I'm still definitely in the experimenting phase.  I actually really enjoy this part.  All the small details start to come out but it's still very open and organic. I begin recognizing layers of themes; ones I intended but also surprises that develops as I write.  It's always fun to see what your unconscious comes up with when you're not paying attention.  (Sneaky, sneaky unconscious.)  I get to play while I'm writing and that's always more fun than "hurry up and finish and/or fix".

I'm still not the fastest writer but I'm happy if I'm steady. I find I waffle between being furiously jealous of "fast writers" and slightly disappointed in the results of said fast writing.  I mean, a lot of the time when I read someone who says they're a fast writer it's still really good (then, oh the jealousy).  But sometimes, sometimes I'll read something and it feels... well... rushed. 

But I'll be honest, the envy still wins out.  If I could get to twice my current word count and still feel like I'm playing... I'd be very, very happy.  ♥

I wrote this a year and a half ago...

    "Occasionally I come up with mottos for my life. It's entertaining and sometimes pithy. Or maybe they're just mottos for the moment, since I keep changing my mind and creating new ones. But one of the overarching lessons I keep running into through my trials and tribulations is this one: Stop holding back, Girl!    

    Which is a little scary because I'm not exacting a shrinking wallflower.  And maybe that is the point because I think I need to scare myself a little."

I never posted it; it's been sitting in forgotten draft mode this whole time.  It's interesting to see where I was then.  That unfinished post was about my tendency to curb my gut instincts.  It was about letting my fears get in the way of starting things, of second guessing that I knew what I was doing, or that what felt right was too strange, or what I wanted to accomplish was too much.  It's funny how often the strength of our power and the strength of our doubt mirror each other.  I was essentially afraid to trust myself. 

But part of me must have remembered that motto because since then I've finished a novel and I'm starting another.  I've pushed myself out of my comfort zone a number of times.  I've tried new things.  I was successful at some things and not others.  I've been proven wrong when I thought I knew something and I learned because of it.  It was hard, but it was great.

Lately I've been getting a lot of messages from the universe that seem to boil down to an entirely different motto...

Let go. 

I just got used to not holding back, to getting things done, to just do it!  I accomplished quite a bit in the last year and a half.  I've gotten real good at being in control of all the details to accomplish things!  I became the master of my own destiny.  Except now I'm supposed to... not be the master.

*groan*  I'm not sure which motto is scarier.  And have no doubt, I am scaring myself, I am uncomfortable.  I know (with the gut instinct I've learned to trust) that in another year or two there will be more progress, there will be more accomplished, there will be more learned, and there will probably be another step and a new motto.  I know this!  But I gotta ask... why does every incidence of growth require so much dang discomfort? 

(Until then, breathe and repeat... "May I open to my experience just as it is. May I open to my experience just as it is. May I open to my experience just as it is." Taken from the Self Compassion Pause.)

                 - wg

Well, this blog has unofficially gone from having a baby to entering menopause. I say "unofficially" because while my hormone levels are technically well in the grooving to the oldies range I'm still having spotty encounters with Aunt Flo, and while I love and honor Auntie in my life, it's really about time she stop popping by. It's not you, it's me. OK, some of it is you. You never call, you're kind of flighty. You're always talking about cats and making a mess. You eat all my chocolate. I'm done.

Anywho, I think the confluence of high hormones and cranky Aunt is making my OBGYN's head explode a little as he has insisted on doing a biopsy. (Because, you know, the medical community... they'll do one study on women in the 80s and then insist that every woman is JUST LIKE those twenty women in the study always!* Then they'll go back to testing important medicine like penile enhancement.) Do you know what a uterine biopsy is like? It's like changing a tire, except instead of using the jack to hike up the car you use that on the girly bits to crank open muscles meant to hold in a baby roughly the weight of a bowling ball. Those muscles? They're like barre workout strong! (I took a barre class once and it kicked my ass. Sore for days.) Then after you've cranked the muscles open, you take a long pokey stick and scrape your insides. Scrape your insides!! Because you get to feel everything. So. Much. Fun.

Well. Two weeks until we get the results for that. Which kind of reminds me of when we were trying to have kid number two; there was a lot of waiting. It wasn't that long ago. I mean, over the course of my whole life, fertility to non-fertility really kind of flew by. Say, if I live to 90 that means only about 30ish years were baby-making years. That's kind of weird. Especially since I started this blog because I had a kid.

But that also means that for most of my life I won't be having periods, so WOOT! New chapter, baby!

               - wg

*Not based on scientific fact. Just lots of observation.

I was cruising curvy Barbies (because yay! real women!) on Amazon, and of course I go for the redheaded one, even though she's not actually as much of a redhead in real life as she was online. More of a strawberry blond. Not even a true ginger. (Commit Mattel.)  But! She's got a butt! I've got a butt! AWESOME! She's super pretty, too. Just beautiful if she were a real girl. Now I kind of see why some people get obsessed with dolls and then do too much plastic surgery. (Not really.) 

So despite the disappointing lack of redness I'm glad I bought her. Then Mattel made it up to me because as an afterthought I searched for other redheaded Barbies and I found...

GAME DEVELOPER BARBIE!!!

She's got punk red streaked hair! And glasses! And jeans! And AND an army green jacket over her nerdy grey t-shirt!

HOLY CRAP, this is me!!! 

I have never seen my style epitomized in a doll before. She is lacking a booty and her hair is long and straight instead of short and curly. But you know, it's pretty damn close. The essence is there. I bet she watches anime and Doctor Who, too.

My two as yet unnamed redheaded sisters. Although I'm thinking Cat for the hot curvy one. Cat's a feminist. Obviously.

My nerdy girl is going to need more time for her name. If you got ideas shout 'em out in the comments. I need some inspiration. Here she is spending too much time on the Internet again. Twinsies!

My husband smiles every time he sees her, my punk nerd Barbie. Lucky me.  ♥