November 26, 2008
Writing the Demons to Sleep
I noticed something about me. Not only do I write out my nightmares and daymares to get them out of my head, I write out my personal fears and angers as well. Not specifically, like I do my nightmares – because, hey, nightmares can make for great horror fodder. But, intellectually. If I am angry, I write vicious stories with high body counts. If I am sad or insecure, I write stories that bolster my mood. They usually involve overcoming some disaster.
Recently, the drama llama reared its ugly head and exploded all over the place. I got caught in the crossfire because every person in the conflict (except the culprit) was talking to me about the situation (even before it was a conflict). I got a bird's eye view of the whole mess, lies, obfuscations, reactions and overreactions included.
When I tried to explain the consequences of one person's overreaction, I got slapped down by the person behind the whole mess, telling me it was none of my business and that I should just go "write something or whatever it is you do." At first, I was insulted. Not only was I not speaking to him, I was not actually talking about the mess in general. Just the consequence of one overreaction that, in my mind, had crossed a line that should not have been crossed.
But, as it turned out (and I'm sure that it was not the intended result), it was good advice. I was furious. So, I started working on a story for ShadowRun. The betrayals and body count in the story are beautiful things to behold. The story itself is, currently, poorly written and needs editing, but the story itself is sound. And I feel so much better after writing it.
I'm still peeved about the situation but writing out my fury has returned to me my objectivity. That and some friends who made sure I was in a good mood, not to mention a completed Serenity assignment and a completed Amazon assignment.
Coming up Thursday and Friday are two big Thanksgiving gatherings for Orphans and friends that both me and the husband will be going to. I always have a bit of reluctance and fear when it comes to going big holiday shindigs. Mostly because holidays are hard on people. In turn, people are hard on other people – friends, family and strangers alike.
I have vague, awful memories of one holiday at home where my father and brother were in a screaming fight that included my brother shouting things like "I rebuke you! I rebuke you in the name of the Lord!" I can't remember what I did other than cry. It was a really bad holiday. My mom was elsewhere for some reason. I remember really missing her.
Obviously, not all holiday gatherings (or even many) with friends and family have been pressure cookers of pain and anger. But I have enough bad memories of friends freaking out on each other that I'm gun shy.
And yet, like a fool, I keep trying. Even when my mouth dries out and my knees quake. Me and the husband will be hosting an Orphan's Christmas this year.
Still, I have much to be thankful for this year. My husband, my house, my cats, my career, my friends, all of it. I am one lucky woman. I love my life despite the pitfalls. I would not trade it for anything. I wake up to my husband's kisses (or the kittens' meows for attention) each morning. My commute is all of fifteen feet away to my at home office. I'm healthy. My husband is healthy. My kitties are healthy. I have a steady stream of freelance work that keeps me busy but not too busy that I can't work on my fiction. I am lucky and grateful.
I hope everyone out there has a good holiday. Drive safe, godspeed and steady hands.