Wordless Wednesday Oct. 31, 2018

Wordless Wednesday Oct. 24, 2018

What's the Deal? by Robin Janney

If you follow me on either Facebook or Twitter, you may have seen my pics where I've been showing off a couple of tiara's that I bought myself. And you may be wondering...why?

The shortest answer would be: Because I wanted to. But that would hardly make much of a blog post, now would it?

They popped up on one of the shopping apps I have on my phone, and since they were cheap and I had the money, I made the purchase. I thought to myself, why not? Jo March in Little Women had her writer's cap complete with a feather in it, why can't I have a writing tiara? Especially since sparkles make me happy?

Josephine March is probably one of my favorite literary heroines. I easily identified with her growing up. We were both writers, both women who didn't fit the typical female stereotype...although I wasn't quite the tomboy Jo was, I certainly had similar growing pains as a woman.

When your mom tells you to smile...

It may seem silly to some. They are free to have their own opinion and I thank them for keeping it to themselves. Where I am at in my depression, I will do whatever silly little thing I want to bring myself even the smallest amount of happiness. Especially since my husband says I look good in a tiara and thinks I should have worn my star and moon one to a recent wedding; he doesn't understand how that could be seen as upstaging the bride, and I didn't want to do that as I would like my new sister-in-law to actually like me someday.

Another thing I have done just to make myself happy would be increasing the Christmas decorations on my writing desk. It's October and some people think Christmas should stay hidden until December - or at the very least the end of November after Thanksgiving. They too are free to have their own opinion, but Christmas is my favorite holiday. So. It's not like I've put up a Christmas tree, just a few empty candy tins and a lit up house. And a sparkly angel. And the decorative tree I leave up all year. Just a few items that bring me happiness.

It's not going to make me a better writer, but I'll settle for happier. At least, less depressed. I've switched up when I'm taking my thyroid meds to ensure that they're being taken on an empty stomach. I was being very careless about that when I was taking them before bed, so I'm hoping once I adjust to the new morning time that my depression will ease up. If not, then I'll have to talk to my doctor about other options.

Because the depression I've been dealing with recently has been crazy! I'm going to blame it on the change of life hormones triggered by the loss of my ovaries. Sounds good to me, even though depression is something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember. I even logged into the Suicide Prevention chat line one night, just because I wanted someone to talk to...but there were 74 people in line ahead of me so I decided to just write a poem, eat my last fudgesicle and go to bed. I'm not sure that I felt any better the next day, but I am today so there is that much.

The wedding cake tower at my
brother's wedding last Saturday.

I have been splitting my time between proofing and editing the first two books and writing new material in the third. I've found the easiest way to proof the PDF or Kindle version is on my smartphone so I can take screenshots and write my notes on the pic. I questioned our pricey purchanse of the Galaxy Note 8 earlier this year, but for me, they were well worth the purchase.

Some days I am pulled in one direction more than the other - I'll get caught up in editing one day, writing new the next. And life is still happening around me...places to go and people to see. Weddings to go to and doctor appointments. We are one day closer to going to truck driving school, with a few more things to tick off the 'to-do' list so it's paid for. And then I'll have another new schedule to adjust to!

But I will manage somehow and my books will be finished and released. I just don't have an exact day yet.

Wordless Wednesday 09-26-2018

Inspiration by Robin Janney

The other day I was asked what inspired me to write.

Sheesh, I'm 42 --- how am I supposed to remember my original inspiration???

I was either in third or fourth grade when I decided I wanted to be an author.  I'm not sure which grade, because I have a very distinct memory of telling the third-grade teacher Mr. Burger how I wanted to be an author when I grew up because I had to repeat myself and change the word from author to writer because I must have had enough of a speech impediment that author came out sounding like Arthur.

But the fourth grade is when I really remember my first writing attempts. I forget the exact assignment, but I wrote a short story for it. It was in the vein of Trixie Belden mysteries I was reading about that time. I tried writing grownup characters, however, and Mr. Haflett gave me a grade in the B range for it (I don't remember if it was a B+, B, OR B- ...it was a looong time ago!!) How silly it must have been though, much like the Indiana Jones novelette I wrote much later.

I was also writing fan fiction in fourth grade. Airwolf, because I think I had a crush on Stringfellow Hawke AKA Jan-Michael Vincent. I remember getting in trouble with a couple of classmates because I had used their names (Sorry guys, I had crushes on you two too and didn't know what to do about it...what can I say? I was 9.) I'm just glad that not only have I matured enough to create original and unique characters...but have also learned to write better villains so I don't have to call them "Bad John" to let readers know they're the villain. Thank all the writing Gods for the Random Name Generators!!

And I never stopped writing.

Sometime after my father first started having trouble with his health (appendicitis led to scar tissue which led to obstructed bowels which led to him stroking out on the operating table) I was introduced to the Star Wars universe. It was a universe I could escape into and did so frequently. As well as the Star Trek universe and Indiana Jones. I worked on my Star Wars novel all through middle school and high school (I kept having to adjust it as new books began hitting the market in 1991.) I did complete it, a few months after graduating. And it was lost over time.

I always had story ideas when I was younger. Was constantly writing them down to get to someday (I don't even know what happened to those notebooks - things get lost every time you move). Then, it was a way to escape the seriousness of my existence. It was hard growing up with a sick father. It was just hard growing up and writing was my way of dealing with it.

There are other worlds in my head, and characters who fill them. A movie plays in my head with narration and if I don't write them down, they keep me up at night and distract me during the day. Of course, new scenes replace the written ones even as they're being written. They overlap and repeat and fall into order repeatedly.

Writing is the only way I can make sense of the madness in my head. Madness, anxiety, depression., pain, grief, insecurities, questions, and What-If?'s. Writing holds the monsters at bay, even if it doesn't tame them.

As Time Goes By by Robin Janney

The New Colossus

By Emma Lazarus, 1883

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

I am struggling today, as many are. Many have more reason than I.

I lost no one I knew seventeen years ago. I was a couch observer, crying as people I did not know plummeted to their death as they tried to escape the horror of the burning building. Shocked beyond words, beyond tears as the Twin Towers fell. I'm not even sure I registered the attack on the Pentagon that day, or the crash in the Pennsylvania field, until much later.

What can I say to honor them today? What can I do? I feel compelled to do something, say something.

They are strangers to me. But I mourn for them as though they are family.

Perhaps on this one day, this is what we are. Family. Whether we lost someone we knew or not. Because we all lost something that day. Innocence, peace, security.

I cannot fathom how it has been seventeen years since...wasn't it just yesterday?

Wordless Wednesday 09-05-18