It’s something that the human brain cannot really process: our own smallness.
I have been having to deal with a lot of rejection coming my way lately. Since January I haven’t had any story accepted for publication, although I have been submitting regularly, up to ten stories per month. Every time I open a response e-mail from a publication where I’ve submitted, I feel this crevice opening under my feet and for a few seconds while I read the e-mail I am floating on top of the abyss, completely detached from the rest of the world. And I am so scared. But then I fall back on the ground, barely a bruise or a scratch, as if I was not standing at the edge of the living universe just a few moments before. And I don’t know what to do with myself for a while: who am I again? I find it harder and harder to start writing and submitting again.
That’s a lot of words and too much imagery to say that rejection is soul crushing. I heard someone say somewhere that when encouraged, when praised, people perform much better than they would otherwise. I am assuming the reverse it also true. It’s like our brain putting the brakes at exactly the worst moment. When we should persevere and try harder, we feel so demoralized that we can’t lift a finger to help ourselves. Because we don’t do well feeling small. we need that superiority bias to succeed. But that doesn’t come easily, especially to some of us, especially when so many external factors push you in the opposite direction.
Depression has been negatively correlated with the superiority bias, we need to feel like we’re better than others just to feel okay. I am not feeling okay right now.
Since late last year I fell victim to the bullet journal craze. I am easily swayed by trends, as we all know, but this time I was actively looking for a system that would bring back pens and notebooks into daily use.
Before the bullet journal I used to have a scattered system all centered around the regular journal (a classic hard cover Moleskine) where I wrote very infrequently in the past few years, when I needed to know what I thought and felt about something, or tried to deal with a situation. Besides that, I had a special notebook for each novel (a Moleskine Cahier) where I drew diagrams and explained characters, inspirations, etc.
For several years I’ve also had my Filofax for daily tasks and lists, but it has been a little frustrating with its small size (I think in Filofax terminology it is “personal” size) and the rings making writing a bit cumbersome. I always felt restricted by the Filofax, although enjoyed the feel of its soft leather cover in my hand, its paper bulkiness and the ease of leafing through. I still keep it permanently next to me on my table, even though I rarely touch it. Another, larger ring planner I own (the red one here), gets very little use because those rings are just uncomfortable.
My new system combines the journal and the organizer in one notebook. I started using a Markings by CR Gibson notebook. which is kind of a classic Moleskine dupe, for everything from daily tasks, ideas, story developments, random personal thoughts, dinner party planning, trip packing, everything. At the end I keep lists of books read, thrift store purchases, story ideas, sewing projects and so on. I call this a bullet journal, but I don’t follow any bullet journal notations or anything. I do embellish it by drawing flora and using special lettering for parts of it. I expect it to last me about a year, maybe slightly less. I still keep a separate notebook for the novel I am working on and a separate dream journal.
It is really a joy to have everything in one place, and treat it less seriously than I used to with my regular journal (which I wanted to be the container of only very deep and universal thoughts—I know, I’m rolling my eyes too!). This is just life with everything it carries. It’s a much more relaxed approach and fits my style well.
Because the cover of my inferior notebook was peeling off and looking unsightly, I made a removable leather cover for it. Very excited about that feat! I had actually thrifted this cover some time ago, but it was brown and way too big, so I had to modify it. I cut it down and sewed it back on, dyed it black and in the process I also added two pen loops, which are visible in that first picture. Never want to let it out of my hand now. The thought of being able to use this cover for years, with different notebooks, is particularly comforting too.
Speaking of pen loops, I have discovered that I need at least two pens to use concomitantly: one for writing and one for drawing. For writing I use now 0.4 or even finer point gel pens. My favorites are the capped ones, not the retractable. Most often I’ll pick up the Muji 0.38 gel ink ball point and the Pilot High Tech-C Maica 0.4 point. I can’t express in words the pleasure of writing with these pens: my brain feeds on it like it’s sugar. I now even flesh out stories on paper, and my writing is often better than on the computer, although I sometimes feel the frustration of not being able to write fast enough to keep the pace of my thoughts. In the end, probably a good thing, because by the time it hits the paper, the idea had time to be edited and become more clear.
For doodling right now I am using a Pentel Sign pen, which has a somewhat flexible felt tip that can create variation of line thickness. It works fine. In the future I am planning to get a Tombow Dual Brush Pen so that I have more options in just one pen loop. I know!
I know a lot of people find stationary irresistible. An article I read recently talked about how humans have found ways and tools to extend their brains—maybe this is why pens and paper have such wide appeal, who of us cannot use a few extensions to our brains? I know I can (and badly need it too).
Another snow day. I heard yesterday on the radio that historically in our area we get the most snow of the winter in the first two weeks of February. Right. So, it’s not over. This winter has been relentless.
But a snow day is not a bad time to write a blog post over here with updates.
It has been a rough start of the year. Cold aside. My grandmother passed away last week and I want to share about what she meant to me but I’m not able to just yet. I’m still frozen.
This year. I don’t know what else it’s going to bring. Several of my closest friends are going through hellish situations that have accelerated in the new year, and it just makes me feel so anxious about life. Life after forty. Why are we so unprepared for getting old? You feel like you’ve known all along but then when it happens, you’re at a loss: it’s not what you thought. Might it be that our culture doesn’t prepare us for it in any way? Why are all the books only about young people? When did you last read a novel where the main character is in their fifties? A woman in her fifties?
I’ve been working a lot on new stories and new submissions. I am still behind schedule with everything. My plan is to get three short stories published, then go back to the novel and do some final edits before starting to submit again. I’m almost there. One more story to go.
I never thought I’d become a short story writer, but I’m enjoying the process now. With a story you feel the stress, the pressure and the obsession taking over for only a limited time, after which you let go. With a novel, you live in the cloud for years. I don’t know which is best. Depends on what mood I’m in. I am looking forward to open that big manuscript again and give it a go.
My daughter has made the most unbelievable strawberry cupcakes as a trial for her little brother’s Valentine’s Day in preschool, and I have licked frosting from every surface that it touched. Generally sugar is not something I crave, unless it’s hidden in chocolate, but I that frosting was from another story, obviously.
And I am going to meet some friends this week for a bead-sorting party, which sounds like more fun than I’ve had in quite a while. What to wear? Leaning toward the raw silk sack dress over leggings and long sleeve t-shirt. And maybe my new silk and silver tassel necklace, because jewelry is obviously a must on this occasion.
Last weekend I left an Eileen Fisher duster in the store. What was I thinking? It was a linen blend, black, an interesting, swingy cut. But then I had also found other things that I wanted apparently more and I didn’t want to go overboard. I bought instead a great wool moto jacket, a knit linen Vince tunic that goes with everything, and a linen/cotton canvas tote by Norma Kamali—I cannot resist bags and I have been looking for a black beach bag for a long time. I don’t remember why.
Looking forward to the end of the week. At least then we’ll have wine.
Although I started with such a clever title, I don’t want to keep up the suspense, which must be killing you for sure, so I’ll let you know right away that I’m talking about the new year on one hand and some sketches I made in the past but never got to publish on the blog, on the other. Your chance to close this page and move on to more entertaining content.
I keep drawing these sketches of my favorite literary women in the form of Cucuteni goddesses, and I can’t say that I am not very fond of them. I feel like they encompass so many of the things that hold meaning in my life: writing, feminism, ancient matriarchies, female deity cults, dark literature, creativity.
I’m obviously no plastic artist of any form, but I do enjoy doodling like everyone else. I guess literary women sketches is something that I do now. And this is quite the elite group, though isn’t it?
Shirley Jackson is joining in from her own blog post, which I did publish on the blog some time ago, when I remembered I had a blog.
I just wanted to gather all these in a blog post, to save them on my website for the future. I haven’t posted anything here in the longest time, and instead I waste a lot of energy on Instagram. Lately, though, I have been feeling that uncomfortable feeling again, that I am giving these social media platforms free content to do with it as they please. And while I get various benefits from it (exposure, connections) I feel like it’s a waste if I don’t publish it on my own website. I am pretty annoyed with Instagram lately and the “algorithms” they push at us, so that my feed is populated by whatever they deem more suitable for me, instead of the chronological order of posts from the accounts I care to see. I probably should unsubscribe from many accounts so I only follow the ones that I care about most. Like reduce the number to under 100. Would the algorithm manage to screw that up also? Probably. I have moments when I feel this urge to republish all my Instagram content on a page on this website. I have resisted it so far. I don’t know how much sense that would make.
I don’t know what to do about Facebook either. Many ethical dilemmas there. But I feel like I do need it to connect with professional groups that I need to be involved with. So I deleted my old account that contained too much personal stuff and started a new clean one, which I plan to keep strictly professional in tandem with the author page. It’s not working already.
Keeping up with social media is becoming too much work, right?
I listened to a podcast on Me & Orla yesterday on using Pinterest as a business and found it so interesting that I had to implement some of the advice immediately. I do like Pinterest a lot and use it frequently especially for food and clothes, not so much for promoting my writing or to send traffic to this blog. Vertical images with text. And mixing up your own pins with repins on the same boards. It’s what I’ve come away with.
So, yeah, I might post more over here this year, because social media always ends up scary and disappointing and making you feel like a tiny, stupid cog in a machine controlled by malevolent forces.
See you around ?
One of my horror short stories, “Picture Perfect”, that has been published in the Myths, Monsters, Mutations collection, edited by Jessica Augustsson, and published by JayHenge. It’s a really beautiful collection of stories, and I’m so proud to be included!
I’m off to celebrate with a handful of chocolate-covered espresso beans.
Not going to put any schedule on these anymore, because it just doesn’t work.
Anyway, since I last checked in, I went with the family on a short trip (by train) to D.C. It was a sunny trip that coincided with the climate march, which we didn’t join I guess because we chose to explore the museums, which were cool and comfortable, instead of letting the kids be scorched by the sun outside. We kind of expected to run into the march at some point and join in for a short period of time, but somehow we just missed the whole thing. I feel a bit conflicted about that, like maybe I shouldn’t advertise it, since I’d like to project a more militant image, but no many would be fooled anyway, right?
The highlight of the trip was a breakfast we had at a place called A Baked Joint. I had a salmon bagel with fried capers that I had dreams about the following night, so “dreamy” is the proper adjective here. The Spy and Space Museums were fun too. Food and museums—this was all our trip.
I packed brilliantly for this, all the clothes worked out perfectly except for the bag which snagged my clothes and I am right now considering getting rid of. But I’ll wait for a bit before I do anything I might regret. I am working on a packing post, since it was the first time I was happy with all my clothes and I don’t want to forget how I achieved such a feat.
I have been reading some good books. My friend Charity let me borrow two of Michelle Paver’s scary books, Dark Matter, A Ghost Story and Thin Air. I liked both quite a bit, although they could have been scarier. But very pleasant and entertaining reads. I also read Wicked, by Joanne Fluke, which . . . was okay for a gym read. I loved, loved, loved Mariko Koike’s The Graveyard Apartment (read this one on my way to D.C. and back). There is nothing like Japanese horror, is there? It’s not a perfect book by any means, but it is gripping and chilling. I have just started The Cat in the Coffin by the same author and it is very promising also. I find even the titles of these two books brilliantly simple and scary.
I finished the last season of Wayward Pines on Hulu. Really good, I thought. Now I am giving The Strain a try and it’s okay, I think. Although the Alien-type parasite coming out of the mouth is a bit too revolting for my taste. I am also watching Hotel Beau Sejour on Netflix, a Flemish-language ghost series, and it’s very atmospheric, which I like a lot, but rather slow moving, which might be a problem for some, but I don’t mind.
The weather has improved and although it’s still kind of cold most days (I am wearing a wool sweater and wool socks in the house right now), but it’s sunny enough to be pleasant and to start to get me out of my winter’s funk. I think. I am feeling much less anxious and even a bit optimistic, if I dare admit it. Like not all is lost and life is not over just yet.
Here is a list of things that made me cry last week:
I’m sure there is a lot more that I am forgetting, but this is about it for now.
Ten items of clothing for ten days. It’s one of those challenges that flourish over on Instagram, although the credit for initiating it goes to two style blogs, Style Bee and Unfancy. Since I had been following some of the women who did it several times in the past and derived a lot of pleasure for watching them mix and match those few items of clothing, I felt an impulse to join in and play along.
I am not a capsule wardrober or much of a minimalist when it comes to the number of clothes I own. I like options, get bored quickly and enjoy my thrifting adventures that contribute to my about-to-burst closets. But this challenge might be interesting, I though to myself one morning, and in ten minutes I had a pile of ten items to wear for the next two weeks (I didn’t include the weekends in the challenge).
My thoughts after the challenge: I like options and I get bored quickly. Still it was fun, because I didn’t take it all too seriously and I switched my items around later in the day when I felt a need for it.
All my items came from the thrift shop:
I did include outwear (the two cardigans) and shoes in my initial ten, but at some point during the challenge I decided to switch the shoes for two more items of clothing. I ended up only adding one pair of leggings.
It was a frustrating exercise. The fun part was the companionship and camaraderie I felt with the women who participated on Instagram, but the getting dressed itself was annoying. My enjoyment of my clothes was somewhat diminished by the limitations of the exercise. My clothes are not useful and functional, they are playthings. I kind of feel like the minimalist and utilitarian approach to clothing can only suit those who don’t really care about clothes, but I know it is not true—many women who do capsule wardrobes and reduce their options love their clothes. So I don’t know where we differ, but this is not for me.
Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again as an exercise. It is good practice for vacation packing, for example, although I have been known to take ten items of clothing for merely an overnight trip.
My favorite outfits to wear were probably 4 and 5. 1 is a good contender also. I don’t know if I could name a least favorite—they were all pretty good. Maybe outfit 10 was out of my comfort zone a bit, with too much going on, and outfit 7, where the scarf annoyed me with its bulkiness.
That’s about it. I had a good time and I plan to do it again, given a chance. Nothing earth-shattering.
Haven’t been feeling very chatty in the past two weeks. I go through these phases of withdrawal regularly, when I can’t bring myself to talk to anyone, say anything about myself, and I generally just want to hide. I am surprise I still have any friends at all, considering this terrible behavior. I certainly don’t deserve the ones that I have.
My need to hide usually coincides with feelings of insecurity and unworthiness, when I feel like I have no reason to show my face out in the world because I haven’t been productive, useful, etc. These moments have become more frequent later and have made me understand one thing: the more I withdraw, the worst I feel. I am not my own best companion. So the instinct is not right, in this case. I should be looking for people in times of discouragement.
Not having been able to finish that New England story in time really brought my work to a standstill. I didn’t know what to pick up next and felt unproductive which in turn really made me not produce anything. Then the small kid got sick and didn’t let me sleep for several nights in a row, which drained me.
But I have been upping my gym frequency which I’m feeling good about. I even bought my first ever pair of sneakers, just because the elliptical was starting to hurt my feet after a while in the canvas shoes I wore to the gym. I am taking my Kindle and a water bottle with me in the evenings, when the husband is back from work, and retreating into the neighborhood gym for about one hour. So relaxing and satisfying! Although it hasn’t helped me lose any of the weight I’ve gained over the winter.
The weather has also improved around these parts, and I have been to the playground with the little kid two days in a row. I didn’t even take my Kindle with me, but instead just tried to enjoy being out and in the sun.
Have been watching Father Brown on Netflix every night. I enjoyed the first season the most. Maybe it was the lightest in mood, and it became increasingly darker. Nothing is as satisfying as a good dose of darkness, but I was looking for more small town coziness in Father Brown. Still enjoying it nonetheless.
I read an article in the dentist’s office about the Twin Peaks revival. Has it aired yet? I haven’t checked, but I am almost afraid to watch it, because I’m afraid it will ruin it for me. It was interesting to see how the actors have aged in the promotional pictures. They all look very good. Was a bit disappointed not to see Lara Flynn Boyle in the cast. Donna was such a pivotal character and for some reason the one I identified with the most.
I finished reading The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters and kind of hated it all the way. I just felt like it was going nowhere. Not a good feeling. I’m really not into the classic (old) narrative style at all anymore. Glad to be done with this one. It only reinforces my belief that good scary books are just very hard to find.
I am still working on the Daphne du Maurier biography, while also reading (mostly at the gym 🙂 ) Mayhem by Sarah Pinborough and Ten Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Bly. Mayhem looks good, although I am bothered by the too many characters introduced too abruptly. But the Jack the Ripper London is fascinating. Ten Days in a Madhouse, is non-fiction. It started as an investigative reporting article and the book was originally published in the 1887 as a journalist’s first hand account of insane asylum conditions in those times. It is not the easiest read, both in terms of writing style and subject matter, but very interesting nonetheless, considering the unique perspective.
The weather has been much nicer these days so I got to go out without the winter jacket, or any jacket for that matter. I started a 10×10 challenge (10 outfits from 10 items of clothing) on Instagram to have some fun with clothes, and it’s going all right, although I have moments when I feel the anxiety of being trapped in the horror of only having a small assortment of clothes at my disposal. Clearly not cut out for minimalism.
I haven’t been wearing my scarves lately, since the black&white wardrobe experiment and I miss them. I bid on a beautiful silk square on eBay which was a sort of Japanese brush design, really pretty, but someone outbid be quickly, which I can’t say I feel too bad about: I prefer to buy on my thrift store trips, which are all sorts of fun, rather than by sitting my couch. But this scarf was a beauty and I have a feeling I am going to be looking for this exact one for a very long time. Still, I must trust my thrifting magic. It is going to come my way sooner or later. Just putting it out there. And it is something to look forward to. Instant gratification is for wussies.
I am becoming slightly more involved lately with the Unitarian Universalist congregation in my town and over there every meeting starts with a “check-in”—where we go round the table and talk about our week, days, where we are. I always dread the check-in and never find anything of importance to say. But I am thinking I could do it regularly on the blog. I’m not good with sharing my inner workings, even with the people closest to me, so why not try to do shout it from rooftops in a more public space, right? Right. Here we go. (I’m sure you’re all curious just like me about how long this is going to last.)
This past week has not been one of the easiest and mainly because of the weekend snow storm that we were contemplating. My parents back in Romania have been gardening and basking in the sun for weeks now. But here spring always comes so late, it’s disheartening. Winter never leaves before it sucks out all the will to live we might have had. And thought the pattern repeats every year, I haven’t yet become used to it and don’t know when I will.
I am tired and I hate my winter coat so in spite of the cold this week I haven’t put in on. I have a lighter, unlined coat with only a minimal wool content (it’s 70% rayon and 30% wool). It fits me differently than the model, hitting close to the knee, and besides I have modified the hem a bit with a few darts to give it more of a balloon shape. I am enjoying it a lot. I can’t wait for sunnier days when I can wear my several long wool cardigans with only t-shirts underneath.
I had plans of finishing a New England short story for a particular publication but it proved more difficult than I though and the story just didn’t want to come to life. Although I have been collecting first-witness accounts of insane asylum stories, and that part has been fun.
I have been trying to finish a collection of horror tales called Nightmares, A New Decade of Modern Horror, edited by Ellen Datlow. I picked up the book while walking by the new additions shelf in our town library on the way to the children’s room, like I do all my library picks that are not digital. I’ve been observing how some stories are predictable and yet haunting, while others are highly original but don’t manage to keep my attention or capture my imagination. It’s a very good collection, though, I’d recommend it.
And yes, I am reading stories by men too. I am slowly relaxing my rules regarding reading only women writers, when it comes to genre fiction and non-fiction.
I am also progressing in the Daphne du Maurier biography. Biographies are usually my weakness and I go through them in no time, but this one, well, no so much. I can’t yet put my finger on it. Maybe I really cannot identify with the subject at all, or maybe it doesn’t offer as much depth into her character as I’d like.
But the book that has been slowing me down the most is The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. I mean, it’s well written but very slow and full of descriptions of this old house which are captivating only up to a point. I feel like the classic prose style adopted for this book is its downfall. It’s been touted as Gothic, but really, I can’t see where that comes in, except for the decrepit house character and a mere suggestion of the supernatural, but that doesn’t do it for me.
I ended our subscription to Acorn TV this month. I was hoping they would have a larger collection of British cozy mysteries and comedy, but most of it is drama, and I have enough of that on other channels. But I watched the whole Agatha Raisin (I always remember it as Agatha Apple) it is an adaptation of the novels of M.C. Beaton, who looks like a very interesting author who started by writing historical romance but ended up highly successful only when she switched to mystery. I’ve also watched a New Zealand based murder series called The Brokenwood Mysteries, which was light and good. The TV show is super fun, Agatha a very quirky character who tries to make light of being a single, middle aged woman trying to make a new home and create new relationships in a closed, somewhat unfriendly community.
Today it’s supposed to be warm and the snow is melting. I am afraid to check the weather prognosis going further. I don’t remember having missed the sun so much any other time. And I bet I forget yearly.
Copyright 2018 Lori Tiron-Pandit