S.M. Butler's Blog, page 38

I was going to do a ROW80 post today, but it’s only been two days since the round started. I’ll do one next week, I guess, and then I’ll be back on my regular schedule.

But today I’m talking about exercise. I hate exercise. I don’t like it at all. Treadmills are really torture machines. They make me feel like a gerbil. Ellipticals make me want to scream. I don’t want to exercise because i have to.

Because then I have to buy new shoes, and new clothes, and I have to pull my hair back only for it to fall. I have to sync my iPod. I have to go to the gym. An hour at the gym costs me two hours because of drive time, and let’s not even think about getting dressed afterward.

But the problem is that I don’t like it. So it’s even harder to keep up with it. I’ll do good for a few weeks, but then one day I’ll miss for whatever legitimate reason, and then suddenly I’m making excuses not to go.

But diet isn’t cutting it anyway. I’ve been stuck 10 lbs from my next milestone weight for months.

So I need to come up with a plan. Something doable. But I’m not sure how or what.

Getting up in the morning ain’t gonna happen. It just isn’t. I cannot function that early as it is. And you want me to run? Nope.

I’ll have to think about this. I know what needs to happen. I need to find a sport I enjoy. The problem is that most of them cost money, and I don’t have the money to spend. It’s a vicious cycle. I need to exercise, but I can’t do the boring ones. But if I don’t… then I don’t exercise. There’s this kickboxing club I want to go to. But it costs money and it’s kind of far. But I know I’d love it.

Everything in my life is coming down to money.

 

There are so many ways that society tears us down. It’s far from perfect, and sometimes, I wonder why I even choose to be a part of it. I wonder why people put up with the way things are, and then I realize it’s because that is what society has trained us to do. THe human being is a creature of habit, and like dogs and circus animals, we’re molded into being a certain way, acting a certain way. I’m not saying it’s right, or it’s wrong. That’s just the way it is.

That’s why having that built in support system is so important. It’s so easy to let lost, or disheartened. I feel that way a lot. I hate politics. I hate the idea of a bunch of grumpy men deciding what to do about things they have no business deciding. Like the female body. I hate when stupid laws that piss off the public are passed. But people feel helpless against it, like they can’t make a difference in their own government.*

We want politicians to fight for us. We want our loved ones and our friends to fight for us. It’s depressing, watching the world go by and no one notices us, or cares about us. We all want someone to fight for us, to tell us that we’re valuable. That we’re worth the trouble. That we’re special.

Image credit: moori / 123RF Stock Photo

What does fighting for someone mean?

I’m not talking about that old movie romantic notion. Or maybe I am. Maybe they had something there.

Fighting for someone means you don’t give up on them.

I’m not married, so I miss that support system. Hell, I never really had that support system when I was married anyway. I was berated more times in front of people than I care to admit. We were supposed to be in it together, but I was the only one who didn’t give up.

Which brings me to my second point.

Fighting for someone means you got their back.

It’s not just for the military, though it’s one of the aspects of the military that I do enjoy, because there’s always someone I can turn to there. The military is incredibly strict on having a support system, because it’s not an easy life, even for reservists.

My dad and I have an agreement when it comes to my kids, because he helps me so much with them. Whatever disagreements we have about raising my kids, we’re a united front in public.

Fighting for someone means you value their happiness as much as your own.

But not more. I put my husband’s happiness over my own for years. I did everything I could to make him happy. But eventually, it got to be too much work. He was never happy with me. Nothing I did was right. I lived in fear of provoking his temper by not doing something to make him happy.

Fighting gets you what you want.

I don’t mean the physical fights, of course. I mean… What happens when you’re tired? You don’t fight as hard. Being in a situation like I was can drain a person, make them complacent with the sucky life that they have. This is my main reason for doing this blog series. It’s a way for me to fight, to force myself to get up off my ass and get the job done.

I have a timeline of where I need to be each month. These first few months are agonizing, so difficult to keep motivated when you’re broken. But I’m hoping that as I go along, as things get better, then the breaks will heal somewhat. Maybe enough that I can function like a normal person. Maybe enough that I’ll be me again, the person that I used to be before I was broken.

What are you willing to fight for in your life?

*That’s just an example. I do not intend to start political debates on this blog. Comments are encouraged, as long as the discussion is mature and we talk about it without bringing strong emotions into the mix that can quickly degenerate a good discussion. See my comment policy if you have questions.

I’m participating in the So You Think You Can Write Contest this year and voting starts today! I’d really appreciate YOUR support by going to my entry and voting for it. If you like it, you can help spread the word by tweeting or sending to Facebook.

 

It’s time for another Round of Words in 80 Days. In case you don’t know what ROW80 is, go click that link and check out the website. Basically, I’m setting overall goals for this last quarter of the year, and then I’ll do weekly goals posts in which I’ll tell you what I did and where I’m headed pertaining to my goals.

This quarter I’ve set some pretty simple goals. I’m trying to take it easy on myself since I tend to try to do too much. I’ll be separating it into three categories of my life: Writing, Design, and Personal. In some ways, they’ll overlap. In others, not so much.

Writing

For this quarter, I’m diving into self-publishing. I’ve dabbled with it for a pen name and I think I’m to the point where I know what I’m doing and ready to try it with this name. So, the goals:

Finish the hockey romance, Off Her Game, and submit that to the requested places.
Write To Score His Heart, hockey romance #2.
Edit and publish the Christmas novella by late October.
Write zero draft of the untitled fantasy bounty hunter story.
Plan writing/publishing schedule for the Spring/Summer 2013 season.

Design

For those that may not know (because the blog has picked up quite a few new followers in the last few weeks, I run a graphic design business, Soaring Phoenix Media. I focus on authors, because since I am one, I know the target audience and what authors need in general from their graphic work. Plus, I just really enjoy it.

So goals…

Continue to work on school design projects. I’m in the home stretch. I have three quarters left.
Line up projects for 2013. (So, like, if you need some graphic work done… I have some openings…)
I really want to stretch my knowledge and improve my skills so I’ve bought some digital art and Photoshop books. My plan is to read one book or work from one book every two months.
Create a stockpile of pre-made covers to offer on the website in the future. I actually have about 20 right now, but I’m really looking to expand that to 80 before offering them for sale on the website. I like having buffers.

Personal

Continue to blog every day for the 365 Days to Life series, because that’s really fun and it’s doing what I’ve needed it to do.
Increase my income 15% to put me on the path to a new, better quality of life.
Stick to the Total Money Makeover plan and get an emergency fund set aside before the end of the year.

I’ll break it down on Wednesday into weekly goals. I may not update the personal aspect as much, since I’m doing daily blog posts already about my personal life. I do want to talk about my design stuff more. I toyed with blogging on my design site, but really, I like having only one blog. It makes me happy that I don’t have to try to remember to update elsewhere. So I’m thinking in the next website overhaul I do, I will try to integrate the two better so they appear more cohesive. But that’s a project for next year…

And that is what I got today. How are your goals shaping up?

It’s the weekend and I’m not really feeling the blogging love right now. SO I’m going to take a couple days off from blogging, recharge the batteries, focus on some edits, maybe do a little writing.

In the meantime, you can find me on Twitter or Facebook, as I couldn’t cut those out if I tried.

See you guys back on Monday!

~~~

There’s a couple ways to keep up with me. First, I’ve got a little RSS button up there on the menu or you can use the form on the right that says “Get the blog in your email!” OR… You can sign up for my email distribution list, where I’ll send out news about new releases, upcoming releases, and advance preview of special excerpts and cover reveals just for subscribers.

Everyone has those hot buttons that ticks them off when they read. Whether it be bullying, or heroines that are To Stupid To Live, or heroes that are alpha-holes, they’re there. What works for one person doesn’t work for another. It may be because of personal experiences. In fact, I’d bet that would be the number one cause of a hot button issue.

So for today’s post, I thought I would share a few of my irritations, especially since I’m reading a series that seems to encompass everything I hate in a book. I’d stop reading it, except I’m kind of fascinated by it, in a sort of train-wreck-can’t-look-away way.

1. Make the entire book about a misunderstanding.

You know what I’m talking about. Couple gets together. They have a good time and then they break up. Hero gets female friend (who is married and having issues with her own husband) to petsit for him and goes off for the weekend. Meanwhile, heroine goes to apologize to hero. She knocks on the door. Hero’s friend is arguing with husband on the phone, wearing hero’s robe. Then tells heroine that the hero isn’t there and then slams the door in her face. Then conveniently forgets to tell the hero that the heroine came by later.

We’re all human, which means we forget things. But when no one talks about these things? I’m just put out. A series of them becomes coincidence, which while it happens in real  life, isn’t enough to carry a story on the page.

2. Have your heroine make the worst decision possible.

Now with this one, that might be a good thing… except when it adds up to negligence. Like, for example, I’m reading this book, a romance. The heroine gets a call from the police (we won’t metion the inaccuracy here about police procedures…) saying her store is in a hostage situation and she has to come immediately.

Now at this moment, she’s taking care of her Alzheimer’s-afflicted grandmother, who is sleeping. I read this part, cringing, because I realized what the author was going to do. She calls a friend, gets said friend to come stay with grandmother. But the police show up and friend isn’t there. Heroine ASSUMES friend will be there in a few minutes and leaves the grandmother alone, when it’s been proven already that she can’t be left alone.

Now there’s a lot wrong here. Like why didn’t she ask a police officer to stay with her grandmother until the friend got there? What possessed her to leave someone by themself who has proven they can’t be left alone? After this, I was done with the heroine. The hero was already on my nerves, but this situation and the handling of it by the heroine turned me off.

3. Make your secondary characters more loveable.

I have mad love for secondary characters. I really do. It’s the stuff of sequels. But when it gets to the point where the secondary characters take over the book? It’s too much.

Probably the one offender that sticks out for me is JR Ward’s Lover Unleashed. The book is supposed to be about Payne and Manny… but ends up being a second Vishous and Jane book. Don’t get me wrong. I liked Vishious and Jane. But I was super excited for Payne, because she was this warrior chick and all RAWR! and I wanted to know more about her story. But then… yeah… I won’t spoil it for those that hadn’t read yet.

4. Try to make it an issue book.

There’s a current trend to make romance more literary, or to talk about issues. The problem with this is that it ends up being a preachy book.

I don’t read romance to be preached at. I read it to escape and while I want these characters to deal with every day problems, like losing their jobs, or their house burning down, or having to care for their ailing grandparents, I don’t want that to be the central focus.

I want to see how these things shape the character, not how these things are shaped by the character. So please, talk about rape, or losing a job, or fire safety, but it needs to be secondary to the relationship in the romance. Otherwise, I’m not getting the escape I want.

5. Make me scream in rage at my ereader.

I think this should go without saying. If I’m screaming at my ereader, I’m not the only one. It’s one thing to be so totally invested in a character that you’re mad at the author for treating them badly. It’s another for the book to enrage you with needless stupidity.

What kinds of things make you rage against a book?

As kind of an addendum to my I’m sorry post, I thought I’d spout out five things I’ll never be sorry for.

1. I swear a lot… and I like it.

Now this started at a young age and I have to admit that I am crude. I keep it tightlipped around the Monsters so that I’m not corrupting them completely. I know sometimes it comes out and makes people uncomfortable. I usually try to respect the company I’m in. But there was that one time I let a “fuck” slip in church. I’m also a USN Sailor, so swearing sort of comes with the territory. I usually have to retrain myself after a drill weekend.

2. I say what I think.

This has gotten me into trouble. I believe in being honest and authentic with people. Unfortunatley, I also have no filter when it comes to bullshit. I’m not mean for no reason, but expressing myself isn’t something that I can keep inside anymore. I used to and it ate me alive. So now it all comes out, good or bad. It’s hard to balance it, trying to stay my honest self without hurting someone I care about or purposely hurting someone’s feelings. There’s a point where people can be constructively honest, where it can be beneficial. But I won’t apologize any more for being honest. If you don’t want to know what i think, or you just want an affirmation, I’m probably the wrong person to ask.

3. I’m more of a dog person than a cat person.

I’m the odd one out with writers here. Most writers I’ve interacted with have cats or animals that don’t require a lot of attention. I love having dogs. I love how they cuddle up to me, greet me at the door happy, how they can’t stand to be away from me for too long. I love the way my dog lays on the floor next to me, no matter what room I’m in.

4. I can handle myself.

Seriously. I may ask like I can’t, and I may whine, but when it comes down to the wire, I’m the one who comes out on top. I don’t like feeling vulnerable and helpless. I want to do things like kickboxing, and ice hockey. I want to take all kinds of martial arts. I havne’t been in a lot of physical confrontations in my life. But living with an abusive man makes you doubt yourself and your ability to care for your family. I promised myself I’d never be that helpless, that alone again.

5. I love being female.

Political statements aside (because I can be very opinionated on that matter) I enjoy being female. We have the best clothes. We have such a variety of shoes. We can be just as strong as guys in one instance, and in the next, demure and soft. I love wearing things that show off my body. Not the slutty-should-be-underwear stuff, but some of the awesome tasteful flattering-to-a-curvy-woman clothes.

What are some things that you would be unapologetic for?

 

So I’m at the point in my blogging life where it’s getting hard to blog every day. Topics elude me, or I just don’t feel like it. But I think this is the point when I need to force myself into it.

I have what’s referred to as the New Shiny Syndrome. As in, I will go all out on a new story, new project, whatever, for a few weeks until I suddenly putter out.

I do this with all aspects of my life. Not just writing. So now I’m trying to figure out how to fix it, because that’s what this year is all about. Fixing the shit that is wrong with me.

But then I came up with a really great topic. Change. It’s at the core of what I’m trying to do here. Part of what I blog is to figure out where my thought process has gone wrong and to change that behavior. Because if I don’t figure out what’s wrong, i can’t fix it. Many of my failures came from my way of thinking and my refusal to see what was wrong. Marriage is forever, no matter what. As long as no one beats the kids. But so what if he beats you or abuses drugs. So what if he tells you that you’re fat because you’re lazy and dumb.

My decisions about my morality were skewed, hopelessly skewed in the wrong direction. And it screwed with my head. It’s that thinking that I’m trying to change.

I’ve concentrated on what I’ve been doing wrong but I haven’t really considered what I’ve done write. I think that’s true of anyone. The other day, at my last hair appointment, I went to a local beauty school, because they’re cheaper.The one question they’re required to ask that always renders me speechless is “What do you like about your hair?” It’s not that there isn’t soemthign that I like about my hair. There’s lots of things. But when someone asks me, I always draw a blank. I find myself thinking about all the things that I don’t like instead.

We don’t think about the things that we like about ourselves. My current theory is the whole “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” The things that work, well, we don’t have to think about them because they work, and therefore, don’t require change. But the thing that that particular saying doesn’t take into account is that even the best engine parts need maintenance, so you can’t ignore the things that run right.

But human beings aren’t engines, and therefore we can’t treat ourselves as such. We have flaws, and that’s what makes humankind beautiful. I love people for their flaws as much as I love them for their  good qualities. This is where it’s important to accept WHO YOU ARE and let yourself be that person. I saw a video with Nora Roberts and her happily ever after life. I wanted that. Then I realized that it’s because she was true to who she was that she achieved that level of success.

My path won’t be exactly like hers, but I’m also not writing books in the 1980s. She did. She achieved her success when I was still getting potty trained. Thirty years later, she’s grossing $60 million a year. I could say that’s where I want to be, but it wouldn’t be true to who I am. All I can be is me. And I’m not Nora Roberts.

So here’s where I accept certain things about myself:

I have an exceptional temper that is usually followed by a lot of profanity. I could rein it in, but would I be true to myself then? I don’t think so.

I am tactlessly honest. I often wonder if I could be more diplomatic, but that always ends up in feeling false.

I am passionate and emotional. I cry when I’m pissed off, which only makes me MORE pissed off, which sets off a whole new set of waterworks that enrages me more. Vicious cycle, that.

These are things that I am, and that aren’t going to change. Things that I’m not, I will no longer try to be. I will be me and no one else.

 

 

Hi everyone! I’m cheating a little and having Becky Lower come talk with y’all today. Tell her nice things so she doesn’t hate me, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow with more #365tolife posts!

~~~

Lately, I’ve been asking myself the question–was my love of American history fueled by the rumor of an Indian in my family tree, or did I acquire it just by living in this great country?

My answer has to be the latter.

I didn’t find out about the Cherokee heritage until I was in high school. And by that time, I was glued to my television every week when Bonanza came on. My biggest desire was to learn how to ride a horse and to explore the West, like the early fur trappers and settlers did.

It took me some time to get through my high school bucket list. I did learn how to ride a horse, albeit not well, I followed the Santa Fe Trail on a cross-country road trip, I’ve seen the Redwoods, I’ve helped trap a muskrat, I have a complete collection of Zane Grey westerns. I now write American historicals, which deal with the social issues facing the country in the decade leading up to the Civil War.

I think I’ve become a fairly good researcher over the years, but one thing I still can’t put to rest is the Indian in my family closet. I’ve been searching for years on Ancestry.com and the Latter Day Saints genealogical websites. I’ve been in the Library of Congress and touched documents my ancestors signed as they joined the Union forces in the Civil War. I’ve had countless ideas given to me by relatives on what really happened and how this man became part of my culture. But documented evidence? Not to be found.

In a way this is great for me, since it leaves my mind open to the possibility that there is, and was, a romance between a handsome, strapping Cherokee and a maiden from my family, while her husband was fighting the Civil War. Years went by while she kept the homestead running and he was engaged in battle. Civil War soldiers didn’t get R&R visits home, so for five or six years, she wouldn’t have known if he was alive or dead. My head would have been turned by a handsome, strapping man with a bare chest, too. Especially if he offered to carry a bucket of water for me, or split some logs. The way to a woman’s heart hasn’t changed in all these years. Make her life a bit easier, and she’ll be most appreciative.

I suppose a DNA test would answer my questions. But, I’ve also been told that anyone who can trace their ancestry back to the 1600s in America definitely has some Indian blood, since there weren’t that many people to select a mate from back then, and there was intermingling aplenty. All my years with the Ancestry.com and Latter Day Saints sites have made me realize my roots are very deep in this country, so who’s to say the Indian blood that would be uncovered by DNA is not from the early ancestors and not the Civil War ones? I think I’d rather not know the answers and instead work on the plot line for my great-great grandmother’s life. Someday I’ll write her story.

Buy this book at these online retailers:

Amazon  |  B&N 

 ~~~

About Becky Lower

Ever since submitting her first screenplay to Bonanza at age twelve, Becky Lower has had a love affair with the American west. Now she pursues her passion by writing about it.  Her debut novel, The Reluctant Debutante, is available now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iTunes. The second book in the Cotillion series, The Abolitionist’s Secret, is scheduled for release in December, by Crimson Romance. Becky is a graduate of Bowling Green State University and lives in Oberlin, OH with her dog, Mary. She can be reached at www.beckylowerauthor.com

I missed my first post yesterday. It’s finals week here at Chez Suz so I spent a large amount of time doing final projects, which can be time-consuming, especially since I go to an art school. It’s not surprising that blogging slipped my mind last night. I felt it this morning, because after two weeks of blogging every day, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. In fact, I spent most of yesterday on the verge of tears for no reason other than I was still thinking about Thursday’s post. I think that if I’d blogged yesterday like I was supposed to, I would have been able to get some of that out, at least enough to actually function like a normal person.

So now I’m worried about blogging becoming a crutch, something I use to relieve the pressure of my own emotions. If I go a week without blogging, will I become like the junkie who hadn’t had a fix? These are the things I think about. LOL

Anyway, today is kind of a branch off of Thursday’s post about losing my best friend. Because it’s been on my mind a lot lately. Of the two times that we’ve stopped speaking before, i was the person who reached out first. I’m not saying who was right in those situations and who was wrong, but that’s just the facts. I am the one who sends that initial email or text message and starts the conversation again.

The reason for this is that I automatically think it’s my fault. I apologize, regardless if it’s my fault or not. Which is weird, because apologizing is easier when it’s not my fault. When I’m wrong, it hurts physically to say “I’m sorry.” Here’s the thing. Have you ever noticed that “I’m sorry” is used a lot these days? Someone says “I hate the weather today” and our response is “I’m sorry.” Someone’s grandmother dies, and it’s “I’m sorry.” But neither of those are our fault so why do we apologize for them?

We always think that we’re responsible for things that we’re not, and by “we” I really mean “me” so don’t feel like I’m including you in my generalizations, though if you feel the same, maybe I should.

The other day, my mom sends me to the store to get milk.  So i go, and I pick up our regular 2%. I set it down on the counter and my mom stares at it for a moment. Then her shoulders slump and she sighs heavily. “Damn. I forgot to tell you to get the whole milk this time.” Before I even think it through, I’m apologizing to her and she’s looking at me like I’m insane because I just apologized for something that wasn’t my fault.

So, I’m sorry that I missed a blog post yesterday. I’m sorry that blogging has become somewhat of a crutch for me. I’m sorry that my best friend no longer wanted to talk to me. I’m sorry I missed her child’s birth and I’m sorry that I was wrong. I’m sorry that I can’t read my mother’s mind and figure out that she wanted whole milk instead of 2%. And I’m sorry that I’ve spent YEARS assuming responsibility for things I had no right to.

There. There’s what I had leftover, because until I actually do something WRONG, I’m done with sorry.

I haven’t spoken to my best friend in seven months. The funny thing is that there wasn’t a big blow up. There wasn’t some huge fight. We just stopped talking.

It’s my fault. I know it is. This year has been super rough for me, so much so that I’ve slowly been retreating into myself. I’ve developed tunnel vision, so much so that I completely missed the birth of my best friend’s baby. I know, I suck. I got the voicemail from her husband a week after the baby came. Well, the voicemail was from that night, but I hadn’t checked my voicemail in a week. I immediately texted her, apologized for officially being the worst friend ever. No response.

I should have called my best friend (we’ll call her Joanne here) instead of texting. I know that. But I think I was so afraid that I didn’t. I was afraid that if I talked to her directly, that she’d tell me how disappointed she was in me. Anyway, I texted her a few times after that, but I never got a response. Then I saw Joanne unfollowed me on Twitter. I’m on her Facebook, but she could have me hidden for all I know. The few times I’ve commented on her status updates or photos, I’ve never gotten a response. I’m pretty sure this is her way of saying she’s done with me, though I’ve never known her to be silent about things. Maybe I’m not worth yelling at, even though I totally deserve it.

I’m a lousy friend. I’ve been so focused on me, on how my life sucks, and how things are just unhappy, that I forgot my best friend on one of the most important days of her life. It’s something that I’ll never forgive myself for. I had to stop writing this post right here, because I’m dying here. Tears are streaming down my face and my throat feels like there’s a truck lodged in it. I hate feeling like this.

I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be that person who floats through life, completely oblivious to everyone around them. So focused on herself that she doesn’t realize that other people have lives too, that they have issues just like her. I used to be this dependable person, you know? I used to be the one that people turned to when they needed someone, when they needed a shoulder to cry on.

This is turning into a huge whine. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that friendships aren’t forever. They can be, but like any relationship, they take love and devotion to make them work. If you just assume those people will be there because they are your friends, if you go through life expecting them to stick around, one day you will turn around and they’ll have moved on with their life and forgotten you in the process.

I watched this happen with another couple of friends of mine. They were close. One of them got a boyfriend. We’ll call her Vicki. The other got married. We’ll call her Betty. Over the next few months (because those two things happened pretty close to each other) Vicki started to pull away to spend more time with her new beau. She’d make plans and then break them because she made other plans with her boyfriend. Betty was understandably upset. She tried to understand but eventually, she wrote Vicki off. She decided that if Vicki wasn’t going to consider her, then she was done considering Vicki.

It strangely mirrors what happened with Joanne and me. Except for the boyfriend part. She got married and settled into a happy life with her husband. I was still single and alone. But instead of being there for her, I flittered off doing all the things… except being a friend to her.

So she’s written me off. And you know what? I deserve it. She has created this awesome life for herself. She has a husband that loves her. Three little girls that adore her. A job she loves. She has everything that I don’t have. She has managed to take herself out of a crappy situation with her ex-husband (who was abusive) and made the best of her life. She went through a huge legal battle and came through it barely scathed by it. She surrounded herself with people who love her and loved them back.

I kind of admire her. Hell, I do admire her. Joanne is the best friend I ever had. I ruined it, you know? I was selfish and stupid and scared.

So that’s where I’m at this morning, thinking about the past, thinking about what I could have done differently.Missing the friends that I’ve lost in my life. Clinging to the ones that I have now. Because losing the ones that I have left isn’t acceptable.

Regrets, man. I got ‘em.