I am exhausted with a capital UGH! Does posting about not posting anything count as a post? I say it does, so I am not breaking my streak!
Hey guys! Guess what? I’m art!
My friend, Mia Feuer, asked if she could slather my naked body in Vaseline then cover me with plaster of Paris. The last person who asked me that was some creepy dude I had a date with. But I said yes to her request because she offered lunch and she is my friend – unlike the creeper.
What proceeded took Netflix and chill in a whole new direction.
“Charlotte, I have to ask again… One last time… Will you marry me?”
Math was never my best subject in school, but here goes…
Two long-term writing projects plus,
plus, a committment to a smaller writing project – due weekly, plus
plus, twelve hours a day at work, plus
plus, a three-and-a-half hour daily commute, times
the slow-burning dumpster fire that is our country, divided by
anxiety, compounded by
the capacity to deal with anything, EQUALS
no decent blog post this week.
However, I do have a bit of exciting news: I made a breakthrough with my current work in progress. I loved my characters. I had all of the relationships and interpersonal conflict on lock, but the plot felt weak. The plot felt weak because I had poor world-building. A quick chat a writing coach helped me put a lot of the pieces together or, rather, helped me see where I need to plug in some holes. I highly recommend C.S. Lakin. Her website is here.
But tonight is about Netflix and learning how to knit. One or both of those things should make for an interesting blog post next week!
I write fantasy. I love writers of urban folklore like Charles de Lint and Emma Bull. I have fun reading Kelley Armstrong. I enjoy adventures by Daniel Jose Older and feel the spirit of Octavia Butler. I hope to follow in their footsteps.
But, sometimes, the real world gets to me and I get… feelings. And sometimes these feelings come out in stories. Now, I wasn’t sure if I would ever share these stories on my blog, but I was sure I wouldn’t share them first. These types of stories are not my forte and not my “brand”.
Then this week happened. And, between hearing the cries of children in distress and listening to people make excuses for it, I just said “fuck it”. So I, humbly, present….
Photo by JÉSHOOTS on Pexels.com
Welcome to my blog!
My name is Genine and I’m a lover of all things romantic, lovely, whimsical, and magical. But that doesn’t mean I’m all sweetness and light. In fact, things can get a little dark when you’re a lover of such things because there is a lot of shit in the world covering those things up. There is just a lot of fear, greed, and general ugliness- so much that it can make you want to cut yourself off inside and coast through life on a wave of cynicism and misanthropy. It’s how I coped sometimes. Nothing bad can happen that I didn’t already imagine so I’m prepared. If I’m cynical enough nothing really bad can happen to me, but I realized nothing good can happen to me, either.
That’s where story comes in- for me. I can get lost in my dark thoughts and cynicism and indulge my learned helplessness or I can get lost in a book where the hero or heroine (or both!) struggles with the same but makes different decisions. They see the light at the end of the tunnel, in other people and harness that light to make the world a better place. Over and over I read stories like that and over and over I felt inspired to not give up hope. I felt inspired to think people, for the most part, were decent and that the world isn’t a terrible place. Stories and the writers of them helped me more than I could ever admit.
Stories have helped me laugh or smile when I felt down. Reading stories through the lens of so many different people and perspectives strengthened my empathy- even those with whom I disagree. Stories have helped me shape my spiritual and philosophical landscape. And, at my lowest points, stories have saved my life- literally. I couldn’t let go until I knew how a series ended or how things turn out for a particular character or storyworld and there were many of them. If story is not the most powerful thing in my life, it’s up there.
And I’d like to do the same for others. Someone might read something I write and smile or laugh. Maybe my stories will help someone gain a different perspective. Maybe something I write will make the waiting, whatever the waiting is for, bearable. Maybe someone will become invested in the characters I write or the worlds I create and it makes theirs better. Or, maybe, someone will think my writing is so horrible that if I’m willing to put my drivel out in their world it will inspire them to put their stuff “out there” because their stuff is a thousand times better than mine.
For more years than I’m comfortable admitting, my struggles with depression and anxiety have gotten in the way of my writing. Not anymore. I am ready to push through, get out of my comfort zone, and see what’s on the other side. I hope I like it.
And I hope you like it, too. But if you don’t, at least I’ll be modeling the characters I admire.