Moving!

I'm consolidating! Please follow me to my new official website:

http://www.monicanawrocki.com/blog

Balance

Every day, I am pulled further into the world of technology. We all are. Whether we like it or not and whether we're ready or not. This is the world we live in.
At the front of the pack, directly behind the creators and promoters, are the enthusiasts who embrace each new innovation as it comes and apparently, can absorb how to use it in their sleep. They leap out of their beds each morning and check their phones to see what has changed overnight. And something always has.
Behind this crowd, the rest of us are spread from Eager to Reluctant and all points in between. At the back of the Reluctant group, a few people are actually chained to a small machine labelled Necessity and are being dragged. They keep their feet and shuffle along miserably for the most part, but are occasionally unable to keep up, actually stumbling into the dirt and being dragged until they can scramble to their feet again. See the one being dragged face down in the mud there? That's me.
I'm not saying I don't appreciate the wonders of technology. I love how easy it is to connect with people, most of all. Behind that are a hundred other things for which I am grateful. But my gratitude list would include things like, "Elimination of typewriter,"  and not, "Ability to sync all my devices and have my watch tell my car where to go."
I'm thinking of this as I sit and watch an eagle  above the lake, playing on the currents of the same wind that giggles its way down my stovepipe to tickle the flames which keep my fingers warm enough to type. The trees are swaying gently in unison - a tall, geeky, green campfire circle listening to Kumbaya. The lake is white capping - as though the resident trout are mooning us with their bellies: Not today, Fishers!
Yup, that's the same wind that regularly knocks trees down onto electrical wires and cuts the power to our little island. When that happens, we fire up the generator to run the well and light a lantern. The stove and oven run on propane and the house is heated by the wood stove. All we really miss when the power is out - is our gizmos. Recharging is possible with the generator, but low on the priority list behind fridges and freezers. And yet, I have noticed, I miss the electronics more and more. I have become addicted to my email. And for the first time this year, there is a tablet in the house. Now I don't have to go to the computer to check my mail. I love it.
I hate it.
The eagle is still playing in the wind, laughing at me, as I sit here with my nose stuck in my laptop, talking to you about being shackled to technology. I am resentful of every minute I spend learning how to use some program I need for my work, that I am not really interested in.
I am grateful for every connection I make with a friend, new or old, by pushing buttons. Miraculous.
Find the perfect balance, whispers the eagle as he tips his wings one way and then the other, finding the sweet spot, that lifts him up so effortlessly.

Shingles

From Monicapedia, the freak encyclopedia

Shingles
Herpes zoster blisters

Shingles, also known as zoster, herpes zoster, or zona, is a viral disease characterized by a painful skin rash with blisters and the urge to throw things. Two to four days before the rash occurs there may be pain or tingling in the area, and the patient is likely to buy something over-priced. The rash usually heals within two to four weeks; however, some people develop ongoing nerve pain which may last for months or years, a condition called postherpetic neuralgia. There have also been documented cases of postherpetic neuralgia-not wherein a patient insists they have pain when there is no evidence of nerve damage. This may be due to intense dislike of doing dishes and/or vacuuming.

Shingles is due to a reactivation of varicella zoster virus (VZV) within a person's body. Chickenpox is due to an initial infection with VZV. Once chickenpox has resolved, the virus may remain inactive in nerve cells. Risk factors for reactivation include older age, poor immune function, stress about publishing a book, and having had chickenpox before 18 months of age. How the virus remains in the body or subsequently re-activates, is not well understood. As a result, we can conclusively state that it may or may not be contagious. 

The shingles vaccine might decrease the chance of shingles by about half in those between the ages of 50 and 80. Or maybe not. It also decreases rates of postherpetic neuralgia, and if an outbreak occurs, its severity. Or not.  

If shingles develops, antiviral medications  can reduce the severity and duration of disease if started within 72 hours of the appearance of the rash.  Opioids may be used to help with the acute pain. Throwing things, taking Tylenol 3 with a shot of Cabernet Savignon, and watching entire seasons of Friends can also help with pain control.

Most patients report a layer of crazy-making itchiness, then a layer of numbness, and then, just below the skin, a layer of tiny bursts of pain that feel like static shocks being triggered randomly under the rash. It's quite a parfait, not unlike the dessert Rachel made on Friends. The pages of the cookbook stuck together, and she unwittingly combined the recipes for trifle and shepherd's pie.  She served a lovely confection with layers of whipped cream, custard, jam, sauteed peas and onions, browned hamburger and spongecake. For a few days at the beginning of the rash stage, most patients feel as though they just ate the entire thing.

Four out of five doctors recommend buying the patient something pretty.

Monicapedia acknowledges that the true stuff came from Wikipedia. With thanks, and apologies. 

Website!

 Well, it's done. James at Friesen Press did the heavy lifting, but I did the finishing myself and I'm pretty proud of it. I did okay, for a Troglodyke!
Check it out:
http://www.monicanawrocki.com/

Sequel Fever

Hey, look what I made! A strange feeling to finally hold the book in my hands. The culmination of years of work, thinking, reading, researching, thinking, writing, rewriting, thinking, more rewriting, editing, editing, editing.
I'm looking through it, seeing how Lisa's sketches came out in the final printing, reading snippets - of my own words. Weird.
There was a time, not so long ago, that I could not have read it--AGAIN. Too full. Like the one more bite of turkey that you know will push you over the edge.
There is so much work involved in writing a book. I can't imagine doing it again.
But I will.
You know how they say the pain of childbirth is quickly forgotten? (Personally, I can't imagine that, but I'll take your word for it, moms.) I imagine it's similar for any painful process that ends in a joyful addition to your life. And right now, I am enjoying looking at Lisa's beautiful cover art. I like running my hand over the matte finish. I'm fanning the pages in front of my nose.
I'm supposed to be working on promoting Full Moon. I have a to-do list the length of my arm. In my own defense, I also have Shingles, so most of my days are currently devoted to trying to rebound from this annoying and unpleasant virus. But as I begin to recover and have energy for a couple of office tasks per day, am I doing the things on my to-do list? Nope. Mostly, I sit at my desk and wonder what Maddy and Cat and Draggin are up to. I think about whether they would want to try another dive and see if they can visit their friends from 1941. And what is happening with Malila? Where are those grandsons of hers? What happened to the Tagawas?
My sister is already nagging about the "next book". Full disclosure: I've seen some scenes. Jotted them down. Might go read them right now.
Maybe it's the anti-viral medication and the painkillers talking, but I feel good. Good enough to start again? Well, a few sentences can't hurt . . .

The Turtle (not the yoga pose)

Take it to the page, said my mentor years ago.
I try. I do. But I have two responses to stress and/or anxiety:
1) Turtle
2) Blathering idiot. (That's a blithering idiot who can't stop talking. Or writing.)
I like the blathering. After all, that's how I process. Just this morning, I sat by the wood stove and wrote page after page . . .  and burned them. "Fire pages" help me sort through my thoughts - and trust me when I tell you that 99% of them aren't good for much besides fire starter. Such as . . . today's To-do list (which looks suspiciously like yesterday's), my feelings about coffee grinders, how dull my pencil is getting and how far it is to the sharpener, why I'm such a slow reader. You know, that stuff.
But today's pages had me trying to identify why, for the past several weeks, I have stopped blathering and become this girl:

Well, partly, it's because I was taking pictures of sea turtles. Nice, eh?
But also, it is because I have been struck with a paralyzing anxiety about the release of my first novel for kids, Full Moon Lagoon. It's called New Book Jitters, and it's a real thing.
I have been working on this book for years and am thrilled to have it ready to share, because that was the point, right? And I've known for a month now that is was ready to sell and it took me until four days ago to share that little secret with anyone.
I finally jumped off that cliff by calling my sister. When she answered, I said, "I'm freaking out!" (I wasn't really; I just love drama and knew that I needed the kind of push only a big sister can provide.) Before we were even off the phone, she'd posted an announcement to Facebook and I was pretty much obliged to jump.
And so it begins. The past few days were fun - lots of messages of congratulations that I'm finally finished and many good wishes. That wave of affirmation has moved on and I am floating in the trough between the waves, (not unlike the noble sea turtle), wondering if the next wave - the one after people have actually read the book - will be a fun ride, or a slam into the sand that knocks me senseless.
I'm grateful to have made it this far, don't get my wrong. I've had all the support and good luck I could hope for. So I'm trying not to winge. But I need to figure out why launching this book has put me into turtle mode.
I am at the part of the publishing journey  that requires my most un-turtle-esque self. The "putting it out there" part. And all I can think is how quiet and peaceful it is inside my shell.
I don't remember feeling this anxious about my non-fiction book and it was very personal. It was just me talking and sharing thoughts and feelings on a pretty intimate level. That should have freaked me out. But somehow, it didn't. I think it is because there was nothing to "evaluate". Readers could judge me of course, but I'm okay with that. You could read what is essentially a memoir and you could say, You're okay. Or you could read it and say, You're an idiot. And I'm okay with that.
But this is a creation. Inherent in that is the whole "good and bad" thing - a concept of which I am not a fan.
I don't want it in my classroom, infecting my students' joy and creativity in learning and, apparently, I don't want to have to deal with it in my own creative work. You can like it or not, that's just taste. But the idea that my art must be declared "good or bad" chokes creativity.
So, here I am. I think I know why I've been turtling and I think I know there's nothing I can do about what's making me nervous.
I do want to share this novel with kids so it's time to stop blathering about it and do it:
Head out, now, and move forward judiciously.
And trust the thick shell.