Category Archives: Health

February 18, 2014

Nosesplosion

Just to be clear: I friggin’ love sneezing. I sneeze big, and I’m not ashamed of that. I like the floopy-headedness that follows a good nosesplosion, and the way it sometimes leads to feeling less stuffy, even if only for a few minutes.

But this week, man… I’ve got this cold, and I’ve had a runny nose since Friday. It’s been kind of miserable, but I’ve been keeping my chin up (if only so that the drip stays post-nasal). I’ve been pretty cheerful about the whole thing. I try not to feel sorry for myself about a little cold, even if it makes me feel like my brain is bathing in snot, you know?

You’re welcome.

But now there’s this tickle way up in my right nostril that WON’T DIE. No matter how many times it makes me sneeze, or how hard, it just comes back. It was fun at first, because WHEE, SNEEZLES! Ha ha, cute.

Not so much anymore.

Guys, it’s like those people who have spontaneous orgasms all the time. You hear about it, and you’re like “Sign me up for THAT disorder!” and you probably high-five yourself because that was super clever. Yeah, it sounds great… until you’re the one stuck exploding five times in the middle of Walmart, and everyone is staring at you, and IT’S NOT ALL THAT FUN ANYMORE.

There is literally no point to this post. I just kind of wanted to touch base and gross you all out a little, because I love you.

You can thank you when I’m clear-headed enough to understand you.

21 Comments | tags: cold, drawing, funny, health, picture, sick, sneeze, snot | posted in Health

December 10, 2013

Good Thing/Bad Thing

By Kate Sparkes

…sometimes, a thing is both.

Last night, we all (as in, my family, probably not you guys) went to the dentist. For many people this is a BAD THING, because they tend to imagine dentists as sadistic, pick-and-drill-wielding demons. The only thing that brings these fiends more delight than pain is causing frustration, and this they accomplish by asking you questions when they’ve got their be-latexed fingers jammed in your gob, making “Ungh, funghuh” the only possible answer, no matter whether the question is “How are the kids?” or “Do you mind if I remove all of your molars?”

I get that. I went to that dentist once.

But I enjoy going to the dentist. I don’t just mean I enjoy that sexyclean feeling my teeth get after it’s all done, though that’s pretty fantastic. I enjoy the cleaning. The scraping. The picking. The flossing.

I find it relaxing, even when it makes my gums bleed.

So really, that was a good thing in all respects. Even better: No cavities in any of us!*

However, I did learn that I have what they call TMJ, which stands for “Your Jaw Joint is F*%&ed, Yo.” This explains why I haven’t been able to open my mouth far for the past month, and why it hurts when I try. It means I need to wear something like a hockey mouth-guard at night to stop me grinding my teeth, which I will probably gag on, because that is a thing for me.

So that’s bad, right?

Not necessarily.

Yes, it stinks that I have this screwed up jaw. Yes, it’s probably going to be a hard adjustment for me to get used to the treatment, and yes, I wish I could go see my friend’s doctor who actually FIXED her jaw… but he’s in Ontario and I’m not, so that’s not going to happen. Yes, I’m told that I now need to cut up my apples and my sandwiches like a small child, which won’t feel AT ALL weird.

BUT… it’s a good thing that I got it checked out, and that there is a treatment for me, if not a cure for the problem. My jaw might start to feel better once this thing is in place. Even better, I might be able to start my days without headaches. Sure, I might still get the odd migraine, but maybe I won’t wake up every morning with the old “I have to get up for painkillers, but getting up hurts” dilemma.

So bad thing? Maybe. But I’m not going to feel sorry for myself. I’m going to be thankful that we have a good dental and health plan that allowed me to go to the dentist, that will cover my treatment (at least most of it), and that might even pay for part of massage treatments on my jaw (YAY!). I’m going to be SUPER thankful that the end might be in sight for my morning headaches, which continue even though I’ve had some success tackling the migraines lately.

I’m certainly not saying I can do this in all circumstances. I’m not Pollyanna, and a lot of the time is’s REALLY FRIGGING HARD to look on the bright side. Sometimes things happen that just suck, and there doesn’t seem to be much to be thankful for. But sometimes it’s possible to re-frame our way of looking at something, and see how much we have to be thankful for.

EDIT TO ADD: Bonus content! Here’s my friend Hayley describing her treatment, which is what I’d like. She’s the most adorable Bugs Bunny ever!

So tell me: Have you ever had a bad news or a bad situation turn into something you could be thankful for?

(I’m going to leave this here… if you’re offended by mild swearing or Monty Python’s Life of Brian, feel free to skip. For everyone who enjoys their trademark absurdity, enjoy.)

—

*This was a particular relief for my older son, who’s occasionally called “Bullet-Tooth” around our house because he has several metal teeth. Just one of those unlucky people who get ALL OF THE CAVITIES no matter how careful we are. He IS going to need spacers put in, but not until after Christmas.

7 Comments | tags: bright side, dentists, perspective, TMJ, treatment | posted in Headaches, Health

November 18, 2013

What, Me Worry?

By Kate Sparkes

Here I sit… accomplishing nothing at all.

I generally consider worry to be a useless state, a waste of energy and imagination. I’ve had enough to worry about in my life (though by no means as much as some), and I’ve learned that freaking out over what might happen makes absolutely no difference in the outcome.

If you can do something about it, stop worrying and do it.

If you can’t do anything about it, worrying is only making it worse.

…or so the theory goes.

About a month ago, I went to a doctor who specializes in… okay, you know what? Just avert your eyes if you think girl stuff is icky. Walk away. I’m not going to get graphic, but I’m also not going to act like I’m ashamed of having lady bits.

I like my lady bits. This is not really about them.

I went to see an OB/GYN about some issues I was having, and we discussed treatment options. We decided on an outpatient surgical procedure that would allow my condition to be treated without long-term drug use, because I’m sensitive to medications. If it has side-effects, I’ll probably get them.

Before I left, he had to do a test. Take a sample. A biopsy, but not a scary “we think you have cancer, let’s check” biopsy, just a test to make sure everything is okay. He said to remind him the day of the surgery to check on the test results, because I wouldn’t hear any more about them otherwise. I got into the least-dignified position imaginable in front of a complete stranger, he made me cry*, it was all good.

A week and a half later, my family doctor’s office called. “She wants to see you for an appointment. I’m going to book you in for Tuesday.”

What?

Um… okay.

That didn’t work out (my husband has to be off work to be home with the kids when I do the 45 minute drive to the doctor), and today was the soonest I could get in.

I told myself not to worry, because that’s useless, and I figured out reasons I shouldn’t worry. She probably just wants to see me about the test results because…

Hmm, I don’t know. She doesn’t book appointments when PAP test results come back negative (though I take some comfort in the fact that THAT was all normal last time).

But she probably just wants to talk about the treatment I decided on, right? And the fact that it was okay to add 2 weeks to the appointment wait time means it’s not an emergency.

I’ve hardly thought about it since I booked the appointment. Still, I HATE this. I hate not knowing. I’m distracted, I should be working right now, but I just keep looking at the damned clock.

I understand why doctors can’t give test results over the phone, even when everything is fine, but there has to be a better way to do things than “she wants to see you, imma book you in like, right nao, mmmkay? Kewl?”**

My fault for having to wait, I know.

So anyway, I’m sure everything’s fine. I’m not worried.

I just want to get this over with.

UPDATE: I tried to beta read to distract myself, since I might as well use this time for something productive. Kobo died, can’t find the charge cord. Not amused.

FURTHER UPDATE: The Chief Risk Officer and Executive Director of China Gungfua Bank in Hong Kong wants to present me as owner of $49.5 million dollars US. Now it’s the BEST DAY EVAR!

—

*For the record, not everyone finds getting their innards scraped as painful as I did, and if your doctor says the words “endometrial biopsy,” you should not freak out… Unless you’re a man. Then you can smile, nod, and back right out of that quack’s office, ’cause you don’t have a uterus. Unless you do, in which case, good for you! (PS: I am not a medical professional, never listen to me. Ever.)

**Also for the record, this is not how my doctor’s receptionist talks. I have nothing but respect for that poor, overworked woman.

14 Comments | tags: doctor, endometrial biopsy, girl stuff, health, OB/GYN, tests, worry | posted in Health

November 9, 2013

Random Dialogue, The Hulk, And a NanoThon

By Kate Sparkes

Someone recently said (and I’m really sorry I can’t remember who it was) that a writer’s brain is like a junk drawer.

It’s true. We’ve got character flotsam and setting jetsam floating around in there like nobody’s business, waiting for the day when they’ll find a home in a story. Ideas just rattle around until the day when two or more crash together to make something new, and we can pull out the tangled ball of string and paper-clips out and go, “Yeah, I can McGuyver something out of that.”

It’s stuff that many people would throw away, but we train ourselves to remember.

And there’s the dialogue. I know I’m not the only one who finds myself in a situation where suddenly comments from unknown characters are floating in my head, talking about what’s happening. I don’t usually know exactly where they’ll fit into a story, but they hang out, filling the junk drawer, waiting.

This one is re-surfacing for me today:

Him: “I don’t get why you girls make such a big deal about it. Cramps can’t be that bad.”

Her: “No? Imagine that the Incredible Hulk is grabbing your uterus and wringing it out like a damp dish rag, and you’ll have some idea of what it feels like.”

Him: *snort* “I don’t have a uterus.”

Her: “That’s right, you don’t. So just shut up about it.”

Something tells me she’s the one with the cramps. 😉

In any case, here I sit on the morning of the November 9 NaNoThon (or whatever they’re calling it), chugging a hot tea and Advil cocktail, about to start on my to-do list. It’s like I’m the protagonist in a story where my goal is to write, and the author just glommed on to the whole “throw obstacles at your protagonist” thing.

We’re going to visit the in-laws around supper time. AJ is working, so I have kids to keep busy all day (and I should probably feed them, too). I have laundry to do, suitcases to pack, birthday cards to fill out, cat litter to change, scenes to plan, and various aches and pains making me want to say “screw the world” and crawl back in bed.

Are we going to place bets on how much writing I get done today?

*cracks knuckles*

*finishes tea*

Let’s do this.

13 Comments | tags: chores, cramps, dialogue, headache, incredible hulk, NaNoThon, NaNoWriMo, obstacles, writing | posted in domestic goddess stuff, Health, Home Life, NaNoWriMo, writing

November 1, 2013

Writer’s Guilt

By Kate Sparkes

(Dedicated, with love, to all of my passionate, creative friends, and my NaNoWriMo buddies who will be neglecting… well, everything this month)

I wonder…

If I weren’t a writer, would my children have fresh-baked cookies and beautifully decorated cupcakes to take to school on holidays, instead of whatever I could throw together at the last minute?

Would the laundry always be done, folded, and actually put away? Would the floors shine? Would every meal be made from scratch, would they be planned three weeks in advance and would nothing come from the freezer except for the lasagna I made and thoughtfully socked away for busy nights?

Would I have time to exercise for an hour a day, pilates and yoga and cardio, oh my?

Would I be more involved at the kids’ school?

Perhaps.

It’s quite distracting having these characters and random bits of dialogue floating around in my head. This thing that I do, that hurts me when I do it and hurts worse when I don’t, but that brings such joy when it all goes right… well, it takes up a lot of time, doesn’t it?

Time I could use for cleaning, for brushing, for scrubbing, for running, for ironing, for cooking, for planning and organizing and being the perfect wife and mom.

I must be a selfish person to want this time for my work. I must be a waste of space. I must not care, or want to give all of myself to my family.

But here’s the thing:

If I weren’t a writer, I would be a mess inside.

I would have dreams left untended, worlds left uncreated, voices left unheard and choices unmade.

I would do my best to look happy on the outside, but the world inside of me would die. Without this perfect space for my imagination to play, it would wither, and crumble.

And all of that extra time? I’d probably use it to stretch out on the couch and watch daytime TV. I might take up drinking as a hobby to quiet those voices. You never know.

I would resent every cupcake I baked, instead of taking on classroom challenges with joy when I actually manage to remember them. I’m not the type who sees housework as a blessing, who feels fulfilled by a clean home. When I write, I can do these things without hating them, because they’re not my job.

If I weren’t a writer, I would feel like a servant.

And if things got really bad, I’d go back to what I used to be before I started writing, before I let my imagination soar, before I discovered a community of people who share my dream, before I was able to cut back on the antidepressants.

Before I started walking the dog every day, because damn it, I’m worth taking care of.

I would be less than what I am. Less happy. Less confident in my skills and what I can accomplish. Less fulfilled. Less balanced. Less friendly and cheerful and encouraging. There would be less of me, and less to give to my family and my world.

I am a better wife and a better mom for having something in my life that lifts me up and challenges me, even if it hurts and disappoints and distracts and frustrates me sometimes.

So yes, there are dirty dishes in the sink once in a while. Maybe my kids take peanut-free candy to school on Halloween instead of prettily-decorated, Pinterest-inspired bags of home-baked goodies.

When I feel like I’m being selfish for taking this time, for writing these words and imagining these worlds, I will remember:

This is who I am. This is what makes me whole, and this is how I give my family more of myself.

I’m not being selfish. I’m being the best possible version of me.

—–

(PS- I feel like I should add that there is nothing wrong with being a person, male or female, who feels fulfilled by keeping a clean home, who finds creative outlets in decorating and cooking, who takes pride in sending those cupcakes to school. I admire that. Most days, I wish I could be like you. It’s just not me, and I’m done feeling guilty for not being perfect according to standards that don’t fit me. Much love to you all, whether you agree with these words or not. <3)

11 Comments | tags: cleaning, desires, destiny, family, fulfillment, guilt, housework, writing | posted in about me, Depression, domestic goddess stuff, Family, Home Life, Hows & Whys, the kids, writing

September 23, 2013

I Suck, You Suck, We All Suck for Quite a While!

By Kate Sparkes

(Wow. That really didn’t rhyme at all. Sorry.)

I seem to spend a lot of time explaining things to my older son that are actually lessons that I need to learn for myself, or that I’ve learned only recently. This means that either I never learned them as a child, or I did, and it took another twenty years for the lessons to stick. I’d like to blame the former, but let’s be honest: I can be a bit dense. I have no one to blame but myself.

Yesterday’s (attempted) lesson involved something we’ve talked about here before: This tendency that I and many others have to expect our first efforts to be spectacular. Oh, sure, we understand that other people need to practice a lot before they’re good at something, but there’s something in each of us (human nature, or perhaps a heavy focus on self-esteem building in our youth) that makes us think that we are special. We might think we’ll be able to learn to play guitar remarkably quickly, and do it exceptionally well, or that (in my son’s case) we’ll be able to draw things well just because we want to. Sure, Stephen King was writing short stories and novels for most of his life before he sold a novel, but we think that the first thing we write will be brilliant and sell a million copies and make us rich and famous and…

Sure, we say modestly, it will need a bit of editing, but the world will love it when it’s ready. We read (repeatedly, if we’re doing our research) that most books by new authors, no matter how they’re published, sell a disappointing number of copies. They don’t make a splash, don’t earn out their advance, don’t break even on what the author spent on editors and cover designers… but we still think we, individually, going to be the next J.K. Rowling/Stephanie Meyer/Insert Big-Time Debut Author Here.

And kids, it just ain’t so. It’s a fun dream, but as goals go, it… well, it sucks harder than the first draft of a first story.

This is a hard lesson to learn for some of us, but not learning it comes with serious consequences:

We don’t do the work. It’s like an actor sitting around waiting to be “discovered” rather than putting the necessary hours into learning and failure and experience. It’s happened before, but it’s a terrible game plan.
We’re unwilling to try new things, because we know we won’t be “naturals.”
If we do try, we give up as soon as things get tough, or as soon as we realize that this work isn’t as perfect as we expected it to be…
…or as soon as someone criticizes our liberal use of triple exclamation points in our Historical Romance, ~~or the fact that the cat’s leg in our painting looks like a furry penis~~.
In fact, it makes it damned hard to take any criticism at all.

And we need that to grow. We need to be able to fall down and scrape our knees and know that this has nothing to do with us being special snowflakes or not; it just means that there’s more to learn, and there’s no shame in that.

This can be exciting! I’ve discovered that there’s freedom in saying “Yes, I need help,” and finding that there are people willing to offer it. There’s freedom in understanding that this is freaking hard on so many levels, but there’s no shame in trying to improve, and there’s freedom in knowing that you don’t have to be the best of the best to contribute something to the world, whether it’s stories or sculptures or sermons or songs (or photos or recipes or lemonade, or other less-alliterative things).

It’s actually funny that my son and I were talking about this yesterday (Me: “They say it takes 10,000 hours to master anything*.” Him: “Wow. That’s more than two days.”). I wasn’t going to do a blog post about it, but this morning I opened a Weekly Inspiration e-mail from Life Manifestos, entitled “Yes, You Suck– Now Get Over It.” I recommend clicking on over there to take a look. It’s exactly what Simon and I (and now you and I) had been talking about: learning that we’re not the prodigies, naturals, or Mary-Sues** we dream we are, but going out there and doing it anyway.

This is why NaNoWriMo was and is so important to me. It’s not about being the best on your first shot. It’s about getting out there and doing the work that needs to be done before you can be great. It’s about not waiting for perfect inspiration or perfect skill to materialize out of thin air or to develop on its own, with no work or input from us. It’s about enjoying the journey, gaining a support group of people who are learning these same lessons, and having a ton of fun even as we work through the frustrations of revising, editing, maybe even publication… and then doing it all over again, knowing that it only gets better.

I hope my son will learn this lesson more quickly than his mom did. I don’t want him wrestling with perfectionism and insta-discouragement*** and thinking that everything he does should be amazing right away. I hope he’ll be open to improvement instead of being hurt by criticism like I was for so long. I hope he’ll learn to be willing to work and to put in something beyond the bare minimum (as this is a huge issue for him right now).

As for me… I’ve got to get back to work.

–

*No, I haven’t read Outliers yet, but it’s on the list.

**Come on, in our dreams we’re all that girl/guy who’s good at everything, the genius who everybody wants…

***Just add water!

17 Comments | posted in linktastic, NaNoWriMo, Perfectionism, writing

August 5, 2013

Two steps forward…

By Kate Sparkes

…and then, inevitably, one back. AMIRITE?! *puts imaginary gun to head*

Two critique partners have pointed out a disgusting flaw in my story to me. It’s not one that previous readers mentioned, but now I’m slapping myself for not seeing it, and my muse has been sent to sit in the corner and think about what he allowed me to do.

BAD BOY. STAY.**

Anyway, it’s nothing I can’t fix, and everything is going to be better for it (this is why I loves my CPs), but it’s something that seems relatively simple at first glance… and then makes you go “holy crap, this changes SO MUCH OF EVERYTHING.”

So two steps forward (people like the story, things are good), one step back (partial revisions needed again). Pretty much what I expected, basically. Sometimes you know something’s not right but can’t figure it out, and you have to find people who care enough to gently smack you with a 2×4 of readerly/writerly wisdom to help you focus on potential poopstorms.

I’m actually happy about this. I want my work to kick as much ass as possible and I never want to put out a book that makes multitudes of readers go “Why did no one point this crap out to her?” My inner perfectionist, however? She is pitching A SHIT FIT. She’s such a bitch, I swear. I can critique other people’s work, find flaws, and think no less of them as a writer or a person. If I make a mistake, though, Miss Perfect gets all huffy and tells me I should be embarrassed, get all emo, give up already, maybe re-think the whole writing thing or switch to something marketable like zombie porn. (Don’t look at me like that. These are both huge things in publishing today!)

*zombie/prostitute joke removed because I respect you all too much*

But that’s just Miss Perfect talking, and I’ve learned one important thing about her: She’s not me. Simple, yet profound. These thoughts are not me. These thoughts are not truth. These thoughts lead down a rabbit hole I have no interest in exploring. I am allowed to tell my old ~~friend~~ ~~companion~~ tormentor to shove off and take her nastiness with her. It’s a good feeling.

Why am I sharing this with you all? Two reasons. One, because I think honesty helps all of us. If me talking about my failings/setbacks helps someone else understand that mistakes are okay, we can’t do this alone and shouldn’t expect ourselves to, then I’ll do it. The second reason is that I might not be talking too much about writing for a wee, tiny little while, just until I get this all sorted out in my mind.

My thoughts needs to incubate, yo. Hang on a sec.

*sigh* Yes, you can come out of the corner…

OK, back to work for us. I’ll be posting a few times this week, probably about my trip to Ontario. There’s SO much I wanted to share with you guys! You know, besides the unicorn. That one couldn’t wait.

I don’t know whether I’ll be posting for WIPpet Wednesday, but I’ll be back to commenting on everyone’s work this week, and trying to get back into commenting on ROW80 stuff, too.

See you around!

–

*Just kidding. I love him… this is so my fault.

24 Comments | posted in critique, Perfectionism, Revision, writing

July 20, 2013

A Bad Time (Day 20)

By Kate Sparkes

SKIP THIS ONE. SERIOUSLY. I’m only posting so as not to leave the challenge incomplete. Go look at something entertaining. Now.

–

I really wasn’t looking forward to writing this, but stupid Past Me didn’t write this one in advance, so Present Me has to take care of it now. Up yours, Past Me!

I’m supposed to tell you about a difficult time in my life. I can think of a few. Four BIG rounds with depression (and many other times when it just sneaked up behind me and punched me in the back of the head for fun. Asshole).

The single “difficult time” that comes to mind is when I was pregnant for the second time. Now, you all know I love my children. I think they’re amazing, and they were worth every bit of pain I went through to get them this far. But they were both surprises, and our situation was less than ideal for having children both times (yes, we were using birth control. Apparently only performing demolition on my insides could stop this from happening again). At the time, all I knew was that I didn’t think I could go on. Looking back, I can see this highly-imperfect storm of factors:

Simon (#1) still wasn’t sleeping through the night, and I was exhausted
AJ was working full-time and I was working part-time when he could be home. We hardly ever saw each other, and it was putting a lot of strain on our marriage
I was on antidepressants that turned me into an emotional zombie before I got pregnant, and that did other horrible things to our marriage. I actually don’t know how Ike happened…
We were both working, but in retail. We lived in a crappy basement apartment. We had less than no money. We were in debt recovery over credit cards we’d used to buy groceries, trying to pay off that and student loans and still buy those groceries.
AJ was miserable, but he’s never agreed to be checked out for depression. He was definitely depressed at that time, but not getting any kind of help for it. He worked, he hated his job, he came home to a messy apartment because I had no energy or motivation or will to live. Not good, and I felt guilty about that. I still do.
Pregnancy hormones do horrible things to me. 40 weeks of morning sickness was actually the highlight. I was in so much emotional pain (the hormones got past the antidepressants and pushed me into the sub-basement of depression) that I couldn’t function. I was having panic attacks. I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep all the time, but I had a kid who needed me.
I wanted to not be alive anymore. I couldn’t kill myself (not with a kid who needed me and another one that literally couldn’t survive without me). I just wanted to be dead.

When you have depression (major depression, clinical depression, not emo-ism), pain and darkness consume you. You want to look on the bright side, see that life is worth living, but there’s just nothing there. Most of the time when I was dealing with it, I felt so much like this comic that it’s frightening for me to read this:

Depression part Two (really worth a read if you haven’t yet, whether you have Depression or just want to understand why we can’t just pull ourselves out of it and BE HAPPY, DAMMIT)

When I was pregnant, I had that emotional nothingness AND tears, anxiety, soul-crushing sadness and hopelessness. Don’t ask me how you can have both, but you can.

How did that turn out? Well, the sun kept on rising, so I had no choice but to keep plodding through my life. I went back to the psychiatrist who had treated me during my first pregnancy, and she put me on a second antidepressant, because obviously Effexor (the drug from hell) wasn’t doing what it should. I got through it. AJ got through it. Simon got through it without being neglected or damaged. The cats got through it, but probably could have used more-frequent litter box scoopings. We survived. There were some better days, especially with Simon (have I told you how he used to do all of the dances from Hairspray?), but mostly it was survival. Existence. Trying not to let the bad parts consume me.

GOOD EFFING TIMES.

And then AJ got into the RCMP. When Ike was two months old, he had to leave for six months. Things got better once he was back with us, but I think I’ve put you through enough for today.

Well, I feel better. Or not. Thanks a lot, blog challenge.

2 Comments | tags: bad times, depression, pregnancy | posted in 31 Day Blog Challenge, Depression

June 2, 2013

Sunday #ROW80 Update: Writing, Reading, and… Cleaning?!

By Kate Sparkes

Hello! First Round of Words update since JuNoWriMo started yesterday, so I guess it’s time for those updated goals, isn’t it?

Yes, Kate. Yes it is.

50,000 words in a month breaks down to 1667 words a day, which isn’t so bad on good days. Sadly, they’re not all good days, so I set my goal at 2,000+ words a day so that there’s some wiggle room when family stuff comes up and I can’t write, depression decides to kick my ass into the corner, my personal muse decides to sit his own ass in the corner and pick the dirt from under his fingernails instead of doing his share of the work… whatever.

So here are my goals for June (which will take me past the end of this round of ROW80):

write 2,000 words a day on TORN
read one novel a week
continue edits on BOUND after writing is done for the day so I can get that out to my dear darling special reader friends and start looking for an editor (eep!)

We’ve had some not great news concerning my husband’s job. He’s not losing it, and I’m probably not supposed to share details, but it looks like he’s going to be having a very stressful summer. Not pleased. So in addition to my writing goals, I’m making a set of goals focusing on making his home life easier and less stressful, since there’s bugger all I can do about his work life. He’s been my biggest supporter (and to be honest, my hero) through a lot of my tough times. Now it’s my turn to be at my best for him. It might affect my writing, but there’s not much I can do about that.

full menu plan for each week with healthy meals (eating out/getting pizza still allowed, but should be planned)
10-minute tidy (or 15 on bad days) with the kids every day before AJ comes home (clutter REALLY stresses him out) and before bed
get the basement in shape so the kids want to play down there more and keep the upstairs tidier
save extra money so when he does get days off we can get out of town and he can relax (I hope), and also to buy an elliptical for days when he can’t get out to exercise (and days when I can’t get out with Jack)

That’s all I’ve got for that so far. I know from experience that if I set my goals too high I’ll fail and give up, so I’ll leave it at that for now. If you have any suggestions, though, I’m open to them, and prayers and happy thoughts over the summer would be much appreciated. And no, he’s not a drinker, so I can’t greet him at the door with something alcoholic in hand when he gets home (and he’s going to be on-call anyway, so no drinking even if he did. Which he doesn’t. I, on the other hand, might take up drinking as a hobby. YAY!)

So what have I achieved since my last update?

Not much on Thursday or Friday, but yesterday was a good day. I woke up with a migraine (bloody weather), but I took a frightening amount of painkillers and cranked out 3800 words over the course of the day. Were they good words? Darned if I know. I think they were.
Started reading Fallen. It starts out with one of my least favourite set-ups (people who are DESTINED to fall in love and they JUST CAN’T HELP IT!), but I like the writing, and I’m going to keep going to see what happens. It might lose me if an IMPOSSIBLY GORGEOUS AND PERFECT BOY shows up, but I’m giving it a good chance. 🙂
Still struggling with reading fiction on the Kobo. I’m about 12 chapters in on First of Her Kind by K.L. Schwengel. I like the story, but the format makes me put it down a lot, and that makes me sad. Would be better if I was travelling. Great for reading in the bathtub, though (except that my husband thinks I’m nuts for having the Kobo near water)
Holy crap, how is the living room a mess again? Nobody is doing anything! Ugh, guess I should go round up the troops to take care of that…

I hope you’re all having a fantastic weekend wherever you are, whatever you’re doing. Take care, and I’ll see you later (I’ve scheduled posts for Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Will there be Engrish? Stay tuned to find out…)

6 Comments | tags: #ROW80, goals, home, JuNoWriMo, migraine, work | posted in books, Bound, domestic goddess stuff, Headaches, Home Life, JuNoWriMo, ROW80, Torn, writing

May 26, 2013

#ROW80 Update- Depressed Edition

By Kate Sparkes

No, it’s nothing you did. It’s nothing anyone did, it’s nothing that happened. It just is what it is. It happens. I have depression, it’s being treated (usually very successfully), but there are days when my brain goes all wacky anyway. I think it might be hormonal. Who am I kidding, it totally is. Both times I was pregnant, I spend 40 weeks wanting to be dead. Not wanting to kill myself, just kind of not wanting to exist anymore.

Stupid chemicals.

So yeah, my brain is topsy-turvy today, which lets in the negative thoughts that I have to fight off, but also leaves me with no energy to do so. Nice twist there, Mother Nature. Send someone to attack me, and magically make all of the knives in my kitchen disappear and paralyze me so I wouldn’t have been able to use them anyway.

Not much I can do except keep pushing back (praying, reframing and challenging negative thoughts, breathing deeply and trying not to scream at my family to leave me alone), and reminding myself that it will pass in a day or two. And yes, even at times like this, I’m grateful for the fact that I can assume that now. One of the worst things in the past was not knowing if or when it would get better.

Seriously, guys, depression sucks. I son’t recommend it.

Anyway, #ROW80. I doubt I’ll get much done today… Wednesday’s write-in with the writing ninjas* was great; I was only on for an hour and a half and got 1,500 words in, which is 150% of my daily goal. I clearly need more small-group word sprints in my life. I doubt I’m going to finish this novella before JuNoWriMo starts, so that’ll have to be put on hold for a while starting on the first. I’ve decided to re-draft Torn for JuNo, which I guess means that WIPpet Wednesdays next month might take us back to the world of Bound, which will be fun. For me, anyway.

Since my word count goals will have to shoot up next month to 1677 words a day (I prefer 2000 to give myself some wiggle room), I’m going to give myself some time off this week. Not OFF off… I’ll still be writing. I’m just not going to put a lot of pressure n myself to get 1,000 words a day in. That’s the beauty of ROW80, right? Real life interferes, you adjust your goals.

As for my reading goals, I’m not getting much done there, either. I need to shut down the computer more often and just read.

For more (and probably more cheerful!) Updates from the ROW80 crew, click here. 🙂

I’m going to leave you with a very deep thought that came to me through my “pending comments” folder. Somehow, this little gem slipped past the WordPress spam filter and made it to the “awaiting moderation” section.

“Your buy cheap viagra online chance to makeher adore you”

OH IF ONLY LIFE WERE THAT SIMPLE.

–

*Wednesdays at 8PM EST on Twitter, #NinjaWI. Sign up here… but I keep forgetting to update.

19 Comments | posted in Depression, ROW80

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Category Archives: Health

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Writer’s Guilt

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Sunday #ROW80 Update: Writing, Reading, and… Cleaning?!

#ROW80 Update- Depressed Edition

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disregard the prologue

Category Archives: Health

Vines and Vices (All the Queen’s Knaves book one)

Urban Fantasy (writing as Tanith Frost)

Bound (Bound Trilogy Book One)

Torn (Bound Trilogy Book Two)

Into Elurien

At Any Cost (Bound Trilogy prequel novella)

The Binding (Short Story)

Follow via Email

Kate Sparkes

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