Deadly Ever After

Archive for the tag “creativity”

This Ain’t Your Momma’s Pinterest

TODAY’S BREW: A lot.

By Julie

I love Pinterest.

But how can that be, Julie? you say. You can’t cook worth shit, and you don’t crochet, and you’re possibly the most inept crafter in existence.

Well, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, and maybe you’re right, but if you’re looking for inspiration, let me tell you, Pinterest never fails me. Just before I wrote this blog I texted Kristen “What am I gonna blog about? I’m so boring.” She didn’t answer me, so point taken, Kristen. WHAT THE HELL EVER. So, I popped on Pinterest and found THIS the second I opened it up:

Byronic by Boris Pelcer

And I said, “OOOOOOOHH!” And I pinned it to my RUNNING HOME board, because OH MY GOD, IT’S ALMOST PERFECT FOR NICHOLAS’S HOMECOMING SCENE, AND IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT PLEASE BUY MY BOOK. And immediately I was pumped to write. (Sidenote: For those of you wondering, the RUNNING HOME sequel will be finished in the next 2 days. EEEEEEEEEE!)

But anyway, Pinterest kindles a spark in me for a lot of reasons. I’ll share with you some of my favorite pins in posts from now on. Today, I give you  a smattering, things that stick in my mind and light my imagination up. Go play on Pinterest, you might be shocked what you find there.

Perfection.

.

Imagine waking up to that landing on you.

LOVE. Jessica Harrison, "Karen" (2013), Found ceramic, epoxy resin putty, enamel paint

I don’t know what else to say except I want one.

Cottage in the Woods

I want to live here forever.

metamorphosis by Natalie Shau 08

Black Swan meets vampires meets creep.

Icicle cave at Misotsuchi, Saitama, Japan (三十槌の氷柱)!

Actual place in Japan. Did you know this was real? I didn’t know this was real.

Cryptic

Imagine what happens in that city above. Who tht girl is, where the animal came from. Why they’re below the city. It just makes me swim with plot lines.

watercolor by darcy

What a love story here.

Okay, that’s enough of me being a creep for now. This is so not even a one hundreth of what I have pinned to refer to. I saved you from the creepiest stuff, because I know my mom looks at this. But what I think the moral of the story is, don’t rule something out that you think won’t give you inspiration. I’m proven wrong time and again when I think “there’s nothing for me there” or in doing this, that or the other thing. Find inspiration wherever you go. Don’t just stumble upon it, seek it out. It keeps your mind alive.

That being said, go spend the next four hours staring at Pinterest recipes.

Advertisements

Creativity In The Face Of Depression

TODAY’S BREW: Autumn Roast. Don’t tell me it’s not Autumn, you think I don’t know that?

By Julie

A couple of days ago a friend sent out a public tweet asking what writers do to stay creative in the face of depression, full time jobs and being full time parents. A lot of people answered her, and fast, because it seems as though there has to be an element of downtrodden to every writer, and yet we don’t know quite how to battle it.

Except you do. Every day, and with great vigor.

I tweeted this: I KNOW A LOT OF WRITERS ARE DEPRESSED, ISOLATED, EXHAUSTED AND SOMETIMES JUST AFRAID. WE NEED EACH OTHER.

The fact that writers reach out to each other, and still pick up the pen when they can barely get off the couch for a cup of coffee is a monumental achievement of creativity, especially when they’ve already endured a seemingly endless work day, or unemployment, and trying to maintain a normal family life with the worries of day to day life on the side. Trying to stick to a writing schedule when you’re at the mercy of everyone else’s schedule first is depressing in itself. The sheer desire to write after all that is an amazing achievement.

When I worked a full time job, and let me tell you, it was extra super full time, and had children that I felt guilty not spending every waking second with, writing was the thing that I waited for in the deep heart of the night. It wasn’t hard for me to write then because I was already going on so many cylinders that adding another one wasn’t a problem. I did it. And I loved doing it. I didn’t recognize the depression I was in because I didn’t give myself time to. (This isn’t a “how to overcome” method, just what happened to me.)

*PREPARE FOR GROSS PERSONAL STORY*

In the meantime, I was sleeping for a few hours a night, crying on my way to work and throwing up when I got there from the exhaustion and missing my children. even grosser, I suffereddebilitating chronic ulcerative colitis that had me bleeding all day long. Medication wasn’t helping, and in fact at one point actually nearly killed me, hospitalizing me with a side effect of pancreatitis. (I realize I talk about drinking pretty often and that this is a primary cause of pancreatitis. The fact is that I drink not that much. Socially, maybe twice a month back then.) The point is, you don’t always see depression for what it is, and when you look back on it, you don’t really understand it anyway.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, when I was so sick that I couldn’t focus, and my boss and management staff had an intervention with me because they knew I couldn’t do it any longer, I left my job to my financial horror. It was a matter of survival at that point, and I really felt I couldn’t survive much longer away from my kids all day. That was when I decided to make a go of it doing a bit of an odd job on the side and really throwing myself into my writing, the thing I wanted to do since I was a child. The thing I went to school for. The thing that kept my mind alive when no other part of me really was.

Yes, this was a freeing feeling, but it sent me into a depression that was really hard to come out of. I still fall into it frequently. I still have consecutive days where I go through the motions, and the guilt wracks me that I just don’t want to go to the park with the kids, and I just don’t feel like getting off the couch, and I can’t seem to do much of anything but nap. The worst of it, I think, is the sudden feeling over and over in a day that you can’t not cry. Standing in Target with the kids running circles and the music and the normal people, I sometimes struggle not to cry. Doing the dishes, thinking of all the small things that seem like mountains, I cry. I cry spontaneously, and wonder how anyone sees me as a role model for anything at all. I’ll be having a great day, laughing, enjoying every minute, and I will cry. I can’t explain it, but can only think it’s because I missed having that feeling for so long when I wouldn’t let myself live these feelings, when I pushed and pushed and refused to think that I could possibly be depressed. Why, I was an optimist! Still am! I’m eternally thankful, and say so all the time! I love and am loved, and hug strangers for chrissakes!

But I’ve realized that suffering depression is a depth of emotion. That whole you can’t have light without darkness thing.  It doesn’t make depression easier, but it does help me understand that I can be a happy person in the midst of depression, without being a manic depressive.

And I take great pleasure these days in feeling all of my emotions. They fuel me. Depression and anxiety, (and on my best of days I have crippling anxiety) are some of the most primal emotions I think you can have. So I own them. I don’t push them away the way I once did. Sure, I don’t love or even like them, but I don’t ignore them. The best way for me to do this, is to write.

One of my most painful depressions was last year in December. It consumed me. After weeks of not writing anything, and not wanting to get out of bed, I finally said, “Fuck this, I’m just going to sit down and write something. Just type whatever comes to mind, just do it.” And I did. I blanked my mind out, which wasn’t hard to do because nothing I was thinking was of any value anyway, and I wrote this line:

Everything reeked of sex to me. 

Then I wrote another line, and another, and I had no idea where it was going, but I kept writing until I’d written a book. THE ANIMAL, which has yet to see the light of day, is one of the closest things to my heart.

So, if this is an advice blog on how to stay creative in the face of depression? I guess this is where I’m going with it.

  1. DON’T PLAN, JUST WRITE. You’re at your most feeling-est right now. If you plan, you’re going to shoot yourself in the foot and think your plan is a failure anyway. Depression is a time for spitting out words, a word association sort of thing, even if they don’t make sense together. You might stumble upon one image or phrase that sparks an idea that snaps you out of your depression because you’re so amped about it.
  2. ADMIT YOU’RE DEPRESSED. Say it out loud, to whoever you want to, but especially to those you love and if you’re me, to the people on Twitter. So, one in the same often. Denying it, like you’ve done something wrong, is cancerous. And you’ll be shocked when dozens of people say “oh my God, I thought I was alone.” Suddenly, you feel a lot better.
  3. BE PART OF A WRITING COMMUNITY. I hear they have these things on Facebook, but Twitter is the only place for me. To be able to drop a line any time I want and just say, “hey, anybody upset for no reason and want to write?” and get several responses? This is invaluable to me. (Try @FriNightWrites, or search these hashtags: #amwriting, #writeclub, #amediting). WE NEED EACH OTHER, WRITERS. You are not a lonely little tadpole in a big pond. You are one of many. Get out of your own head, it’s toxic in there right now.
  4. TAKE A WRITING BREAK. Yes, this is contradictory to what I said before, but this isn’t a play by play list! It’s ideas for fuck’s sake! You can’t get up the gumption to write? Fine. Don’t. Maybe you’re burnt out. Or maybe you’re just waiting for someone to say it’s okay not to be awesome right now. Or maybe you’re waiting for the chance to say, “What the hell do you mean, take a break? I have to write!” AND OH, LOOK. NOW YOU WANT TO WRITE. Or maybe you need a couple of days or weeks off to remind yourself that not writing sucks for you. BECAUSE YOU’RE A WRITER.
  5. OWN THIS FEELING AND APPLY IT WHERE NEEDED. This is what I mean. I was having a baaaad couple of days, and I felt abandoned. Totally abandoned. I pulled out the sequel to RUNNING HOME and wrote “This is the feeling of abandonment Eliza has.” She was with Nicholas, but felt alone. She felt reckless, isolated, alone. So if I felt that way, then score! It counts as research.
  6. STOP LOOKING WHERE THERE IS NOTHING. Stop looking for this fucking muse. I hate the muse. Your inspiration has left the building. Go to another building. You usually gain inspiration from a long walk but right now all you want to do is drive pointlessly? Drive somewhere you’ve never been. Look for inspiration in new places, because you cannot be endlessly inspired by the same goddamn thing over and over.
  7. TOO DEPRESSED TO DO ANY OF THESE THINGS? Then right where you’re sitting, I want you to pick up a pen and one of the candy bar wrappers you’re sitting in and describe the scene around you. “The orange blanket was so gnatty it looked like a beaten muppet. The dog curled up in it and made it smell worse. The notebook lied open, asking for attention it wasn’t going to get. The crumpled up tissues were everywhere and it humiliated me.” It doesn’t have to be gold, but it gets the ball rolling. I promise you, if all else fails you, this works EVERY SINGLE TIME. Writing is excercise for your brain, no matter what kind of writing it is.
  8. STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE. GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET SOME EXCERCISE. Walking the mall may sound like climbing Mount Everest right now, so instead, do 2 jumping jacks. Do a couple of lunges as you walk to the kitchen. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth as you do this stuff. Trust me. Make a triangle with your hands, place them around your belly button and breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, as you stand up on your tiptoes. This calms you and moves your body at once. Little things like this help, I swear to Christ.
  9. READ. You know reading is inspirational. So do it. Read the book that gives you comfort when you need it. Then remember how it made you feel and write one of your own.
  10. REMEMBER THAT WHEN WE’RE EXHAUSTED, WE ARE MOST OURSELVES. Don’t let “I’m too tired” be your excuse. This is the time when you’ll say anything, kick and claw at anyone who looks at you sideways. So write, even if it’s only a line or two that don’t make sense. Embrace the exhaustion.

I do hope this helped someone, anyone. Know this, too. And Kristen, sorry if I doth say too much. But Kristen and I talk probably 5 times a week about how depressed/tired/unmotivated/crappy we feel. Every time we get together we spend like an hour doing this. Then we get productive. Laugh about it. If you need us to do this with, reach out. You know where we are. Tweet to us, drop us a line on Facebook, or leave a comment on the blog which we check way too often. We’re here for you.

Now go write a book.

The Responsibility of Being Ourselves

Today’s Brew:  It’s so gorgeous out, I think it might have to be Margarita Monday.

by Kristen

I have so many things that I want to write about today I’m not even sure which one I should pick. So I’m going to try to make them all make sense.

You can take the girl out of management, but you can’t take management out of the girl.  I used to spend a lot of time at the the hospital with my mom.  It didn’t scare me so much anymore, which should have been my first clue something was horribly wrong.  Of course, now I can’t go into one without having a panic attack, the feeling I’m going to leave without an important piece of my life.  But in more optimistic days, I made small talk with one of the nurses.  I asked her if the hospital had any patterns of busyness, like a store would.  Maybe it was a coping technique that I was even thinking about that while I was there. Anyway, she said yes, there were definite patterns.  Mondays were busy.  No one wanted to ruin their weekend off with a hospital visit.  They also had a spike in visitors after Christmas, due to overeating, depression, and adverse reactions to manufactured, mechanical joy.

The moral of the story:  People don’t want to miss the important stuff, even when they’re sick enough to need to go to the ER.  But yet we give it up all the time, because we’re responsible adults and that’s is what we’re supposed to do. Work and responsibility and bills and in laws and all the stupid crap people put up on Facebook to prove to all of us they are really good people.  This theme keeps getting thrust in my face this last week or so.

We have a new follower, Taking Back Earth.  Basically, his blog is about taking life by the balls and doing what he wants.  I found several other of these blogs in searches for eclectic house decor (oddly enough, although I shouldn’t be that surprised that my hippie design ethos would lead me to such things) A Beautiful Mess, Betty Means Business, and Delightfully Tacky.  Besides drooling over brightly colored decor, what have I learned?  What I knew all along.  Normal bores more.

Tufted Round Bed in Hot Pink Velvet Hollywood Regency Fabulous

One of the brightly colored objects of my desire. It’s a round velvet headboard. There’s a matching footboard. If it wasn’t $25,000, I’d like to think it would already be mine.

It’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.–Marilyn Monroe

“If you want to make enemies, try to change something.” – Woodrow Wilson

I’m blessed not to have to work a 9-5 job.  As cool as my job can be, it’s still work.  And being a freelancer can often happen at the most inconvenient times.  Usually during birthday parties, concerts, roller derby practice, etc. I miss a lot. I’ve always been afraid to take vacations.  I might miss work, after all.  Things started slowly this year and for the first time in a long time, I’ve been able to do a lot of the things I’ve been missing.  It feels good.  It’s made me reconsider my work work work and more work credo.  Again, retail graduate: work til you puke, then work some more.  Brag about working while puking when lesser employees try to call in sick.  

Someone called me for a last minute job on Saturday.  Instead of just blindly saying yes, I asked about the timing.  I wanted to check out the Fierce Reads Tour (which I will be blogging about on Thursday).  At first, the photographer seemed to be willing to let me work a half day, even though I told him that it wasn’t something I needed to do, just wanted to do.  He then called me back to say they found someone who could stay all day.  At one time, I would have been devastated over losing the money.  But now I realize I need to do things for me, too.

I don’t know if writing has anything to do with it.  When we write, we delve in deep and not only figure out what our characters are made of and what they want, but we find out the same things about ourselves.  Even if we’re not technically bleeding on the page, the process of creating a three dimensional character is extremely therapeutic.  Last night I tweeted Julie a line from the new manuscript I’m working on:

“Erin kept time to the music on her accelerator pedal, making my coffee slosh violently around my stomach.”–Night Moves

I do that all the time.  Julie hates it. I wind up injecting a little bit of myself into all of my characters, especially the women.  This particular line isn’t deep, but some of them are extremely introspective. I figure I have enough quirks to spread through several books.

On Wednesday, I’m going to try surfing. I’ve wanted to try this my whole life.  I asked my friend Jessica when would be good for her, she’s got a babysitter that day.  I told her so far it looks good.  She said, “Oh no, you’re booked.  I never have a day off from being a mom.”  I realized she was right.  I’m playing hooky for the first part of that day.  Then I’m going to do a photoshoot that’s simply for my portfolio, something else I’m always scared to do in the middle of the week because I might miss a paying job.  I need the photos desperately.  They’ll wind up getting me booked far beyond Wednesday.

Sometimes, doing the thing that doesn’t make the most money makes you richer than the paycheck ever would.

Post Navigation