#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 25

Ever have your garage door freeze shut? I have!

Luckily a few attempts to open and close it jarred the thing free so I could still get Biff and Bash to school on time.

That early smack of stress, though, got me hittin’ the chamomile-lavender tea before breakfast. It doesn’t help my keynote’s in…48 hours. My final interview for a full-time teaching position is the day after that.

But I’m not complaining about all that again, because I’ve found the right music for a far better, far more productive mood.

Bo put this song along with many others into CDs he’d make for me to play on those long drives between home and graduate school. Now that the kids are into the Blues Brothers, we’ve been tapping the Motown, Blues, and R&B for family drives. Out of all the artists, the Four Tops remain on top for me!

Part of it’s the rhythm, upbeat and steady. How can you not tap your feet to these numbers? Part of it’s the ability to sing along–an excellent sensory distraction to keep anxiety at bay while I grade and prep school stuff.

The biggest part of all? They’re damn good songs.

If you’re feeling a little down today, pick up some Four Tops. Hum and dance those downer thoughts away. Like I tell my students, any step taken forward is one more step completed on the academic journey. For us, it’s the writing journey, mental health journey, parenting journey.

The Life Journey. x

Before you sashay on out of here, don’t forget there’s some fantasy fiction FREE & ON SALE to take you on new roads to adventure! Click here for my Amazon Author Page for more.

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 23

ONE WEEK LEFT! WOOHOO!

My apologies for a super-brief post yesterday. I must be too old for writing on the mobile phone, which was all I had in the few minutes wandering one of my hometowns while waiting for a friend. Perhaps someday I’ll stay in the historic bed and breakfast here, the one my elementary classmates always insisted was haunted.

But that’s for another day. Last night was a lovely evening of laughter and griping about books, work, lives, and so on. I could feel a load of tension drop from my shoulders for the first time all week.

Of course, that tension grabbed right back on this morning.

Bo and I were supposed to drive across Wisconsin and Minnesota to attend a family function.

How the hell will I get work done? What if I don’t connect with the other people there? Can my mother handle all three kids by herself for TWO nights? Did they survive the sledding trip? What if we get stuck on the road? What if we get into an accident? What if–

You know how it goes.

We set off before dawn. Rain slid along the pavement, down our coats and along the car’s hood.

And froze.

Oh, the ice set in quick. The road was nothing better than a skating rink. We could see the trailers of semis slowly wing one way, then another. It didn’t take long for Bo to say, “No way. Rain’s one thing. Snow’s one thing. But this is all ice, dear. We can’t swing this.”

THANK GOD.

How could I not agree? Not just for my selfish “I need to work” reasons, but for our own safety, our kids’ welfare. Yeah, I felt bad about disappointing the MN relations, but kids’ needs first, period. Paragraph. Page. Book.

The return home was tense, but at least we only had a forty-some minute journey as opposed to the five-hour trek just to reach the Minnesota destination. I shook with my coffee carafe by the fireplace while Bo made the greatest breakfast food one could possibly hope for on a cold, ice-addled day:

Yup. Bacon.

S.J. Higbee made such a great comment to me last week after my anxiety attack about the importance of comfort. While the Whole30 diet has been important for Bo and me, the lack of comfort food has made recovering from anxiety all the harder. The new teas have helped, yes, and Bo found some essential oils I can use while driving.

But dammit, I miss peanut butter!

Bacon’s a good runner-up, though, and Whole30 compliant if you find the right brand.   That first bite took aaaall the tension knotted between my shoulder blades. We split the whole package of bacon between the two of us, and neither of us regret a single bite. After a month of remembering lost loved ones and fretting over future changes, the dangerous trek on the ice was the last straw for both of us.

Finding that moment of sensory comfort made all the difference.

So, now that I’m calm and safe, it’s almost time to head back out on the road to pick the kids up from Grandma’s!

(sigh)

Don’t worry. The rain’s finally let up and the ice is melting. My tummy’s got comfort food, I have comfy smells to smell, comfy music to listen to.

And a comfy Bo to hold my hand. x

So while we’re off grabbing children between the raindrops, feel free to check out my stories which are free here, here, and on sale here. Don’t forget to leave a word or two of a review when you’re done, because we writers LOVE hearing readers think!

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

#Writing #Music: #AlexandreDesplat II and my #Author #Interview with @bidwellhollow

My previous music post connected with quite a few genres of storytelling: mystery, horror, and adventure. I’d like to spend a touch more time on mystery, as I’m currently writing the third novel of the Fallen Princeborn omnibus, whose plot is riddled with mysteries both solved and begun.

We have all of us had our bloody days, Charlotte. For many it is easier to remain in them than to change. To change requires to face a past stained by screams. (5)
(The first novel in the series is still on sale, by the way! Click here to grab it while the grabbin’s good.)

Finding the right atmosphere for mysteries is not always simple. Is this a murder mystery with a steady body count, death threats and chases galore? Or is this mystery more slow-burn style, a hunt for the conspiracy with little blood seen but destined to be found if the mystery isn’t solved?

I love both kinds, so of course my book’s a mix of both. While scores like Mad Max: Fury Road, Batman Begins, Bourne Supremacyand others of heavy percussion help with action-heavy moments, it’s important to find the music to counter-balance that. Mychael Danna’s Breach has some lovely tension-filled moments, but I’d like to highlight another score of beautiful, unsettling ambiance: Alexandre Desplat’s The Imitation Game.

Once again, Desplat’s use of the piano is superb. Those first few seconds of solo piano and a low running bass note immediately establish a sense of problem, of not-rightness. The repetitive run of four notes throughout the entire track also gives that feeling of mechanization, of clockwork not in our control. The strings that swell in around the 40-second mark bring a bittersweet air to them, harmonizing with the piano, but more often in a minor key than a traditional major one. Woodwinds are held off until the last minute of the track, and here, the oboe gets a chance to shine. I’m usually not a fan of the oboe (I blame one of my elementary school classmates in band who had one and NEVER learned to play it correctly. Honestly, nothing sounds worse than an awful oboe except maybe an awful violin played by me, ahem.), but when done right the oboe provides a strong yet light tragic air to a melody before it subtly fades into the quiet.

Even Desplat’s percussion is kept relatively light.

With another arpeggio, this time in a lower key, and a few percussion instruments like rhythm sticks, Desplat creates a menacing air fitting for the wartime conflict. This story is, after all, not one of the front lines and bomb raids, but the one fought out of sight, where coded words are as deadly as any missile strike. Even xylophones and chimes are put to use, but unlike Danna’s score for Breach, though here patterned melodies provide that feel of mechanization…but not the circuitry of some computer. Here it is time to follow the journeys of logic to decode nature and language.

Whether you are a reader or writer of mysteries, I heartily recommend Desplat’s The Imitation Game to create that air of hidden conflicts and pursuits for truth. Give characters the unspoken need to embrace the mystery.

~*~*~*~

BidwellHollowHomepageLogo

Many, many thanks to the lovely folks of Bidwell Hollow for interviewing me on their site! You can read the interview here.  I’m so excited by their coming podcast series on writers and poets. Please check them out when you have a chance!

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 20

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Even though this day’s not even half over, I just had to write now because I ticked a victory against anxiety this morning!

Hmm. Maybe I should call this the “Climbing Anxiety.”

Anyway.

We woke up to another messy snow, but thankfully Dane County’s trying to keep all the kids in school. Whew! This winter’s already given us twice as much snow as the 2017-2018 winter season, so it’s nice to know that the schools aren’t going to shut down just because yet another couple powdery inches have fallen. Bo left before dawn at 6am, and I worked on getting the kids up and ready for school.

6:30 news: There are reports of an accident near the intersection of the interstate and highway___

Me: OH MY GOD IT’S BO HE’S DEAD

Hang on, Jean.

He’s an extremely careful driver.

He just had the car in for a tune-up.

He’s been driving this route for years now. He knows how the truckers behave.

He’s driven through worse snow than this, too.

If you don’t hear from him in 2 hours, check his work.

For now, focus on the kids.

I simmered down. Got the kids ready. Kept drinking water and muttering to myself about what I wanted to accomplish today, what I should discuss with the teachers at the PT conferences tomorrow. Made sure the phone was nearby at all times, just in case.

I did NOT have a panic attack.

My chest hurt, yes, and I had to do lots of deep breathing, but I didn’t get dizzy or develop tunnel vision or have a racing heart.

Ten minutes to eight: Bo’s at work, safe and sound. Roads were fine for most of the way.

I said a prayer of thanks and saw the boys off to school. I got ready to text him a quick grocery list, especially keen for him to find a tea I saw recommended for handling anxiety. But then I saw a winter weather advisory on my phone: freezing rain was coming through the county today starting at midday and going on and off into the evening.

Bo would be driving in that.

He shouldn’t be stopping at a store, Jean.

But every time I drive in snow–

Shut that noise. You CAN get there and back before the freezing rain comes.

You’ve driven in way worse crap and lived to tell the tale.

You have to face this, Jean.

It’s now or never.

(Sorry, that BOW BOW noise did actually enter my head at the moment. Better than “Final Countdown,” I suppose.)

I get in the car. There’s coffee, water, bad radio, old Christian rock I discovered in a binder from…college?…smelly lip balm.

Okay.

I go it slow and steady towards the interstate. Few cars both going around me, because the hilly country roads are just too damn risky for fast passes. Whatever accident had occurred had already been cleared. I get onto the interstate without sliding.

And fifteen miles later, I’m off the interstate into the hipster town with the hoidy toidy grocery store.

I made it!

It took smearing balm all over the skin under my nose, lots of talking at the radio, and interrogating myself if I actually stole that music from the Christian book store where I worked twenty years ago or legitimately bought it, but I got there.

The hoidy toidy grocery didn’t have the tea I was hoping for, but they did have another from the article that was strongly recommended. I grabbed it, another container of @#^!&$$ almond milk, and some grapes to reward myself for making it this far. I graciously accepted compliments from the cashiers for my Harry Potter hat, and returned to the car.

Time to do it all again.

Me: I got this far. I can do it again.

Damn right you can. You’re halfway there!

(Okay, I openly admit this song only came to me while writing right now and it was too perfect not to use. Who knew Bon Jovi would provide the soundtrack of my day?)

Not  one dizzy spell the whole drive home. The worst spell was actually just the last miles to town, where a semi decided to tail my ass on a road covered with windblown snow. But rather than freak out, my old-school driver-self took over, and I just kept it slow and avoided braking unless absolutely necessary.

And lo and behold, I’m home.

Driving’s always going to be a potential trigger for an attack. I accept that. But this morning I proved to myself that I CAN drive despite the weather and despite the fear.

That’s a win if I ever knew one.

FLAT FINDERS REALTY

Oh! Before I forget: for those of you who’ve read my novel, I’ve been asked to read an excerpt during my keynote. Any recommendations of a bit–ideally without too many cuss words?

And if you haven’t read my novel yet, you can snatch it up for 99 pennies. Or, you can just check out my free fiction here or here. It’s all good, I think. 🙂

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Write on, read on, and share on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

 

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 19

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Thank you all so very, very much for your encouragement and prayers. I know I left things on a bit of a cliffhanger yesterday, so I’ll just pick up from there.

We got the kids from school and fed them an early supper. I tried laying down to see if that helped, but it only made me so damn dizzy to go to the bathroom that I refused to lay down again. I tried eating a little in case I was just lightheaded from not eating–nope. My chest continued to hurt, and my limbs started to feel weird.

Now that, well, that freaked me out.

One look to Bo is all it takes. Short of shoveling food into the kids’ mouths, he gets their coats and says we’re all going NOW. I keep counting my breaths and holding Bo’s hand while we drive. The kids are quiet. Not scared, I don’t think. Probably a little disappointed, actually, considering when I had my first severe panic attack they got to meet firefighters and climb all over the firetruck while the ambulance took me to the hospital. They still recall that as being “a fun day,” the turds.

This time we’re at a clinic, and I’m going to see a doctor. My kids are in the waiting room with their little video games, and Bo has my hand. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.

And I think because I was there, and knowing I was there to get answers, the panic began to subside.

Figures I calm down just in time to see the doctor.

But it was still a good visit. A professional who knows how hearts and lungs should work is telling me everything’s working as it should. She recommends investing in a wrist FitBit (Pffft, like I have money for that) so I have a visual realization whenever it feels like my heart’s racing, it really isn’t. She does go through various medications, and that I could start taking antidepressants if I so chose.

I squirm a little. Why am I squirming? Didn’t I want an answer like this, a pill that will make everything better?

What IS wrong, Jean? Seriously, what’s wrong?

This month marks 5 years since Dad died, eight years since Bo’s dad died.

You’re in the running for a full-time faculty position at the university.

You got named keynote speaker, so the pressure’s on to stand out during the lit conference.

Your sons got suspended from school again, and now you need to work out their neuro-evals for the sensory integration disorder.

You’re wondering how the hell you’ll write if you do land that full-time gig.

You’re worried about your daughter. Are you pushing her too hard, or not enough? Are you spending enough time with her, or not enough?

Money. Always money issues.

Some other family issues I promised not to write about but have been weighing damn hard on me.

Bo’s finally caring about his health, but is it too late?

And the bloody cherry on top of aaaaaall of this is that my Aunt Flo came this morning. (sorry male readers)

With all that on you and then the monthly hormonal chaos, is it any wonder a panic attack slammed you in the chest again, Jean?

The doctor’s still talking. Not about meds any more, but sensory distractions: essential oils, for instance, working more with music. Drinking a calming tea. Taking a Vitamin D supplement to counter the severe D-deficiency we all experience in these dark winter months.

I take my notes, thank her for her time. The kids are starting to go nuts in the waiting room, but Bo is there. His hand finds mine.

It’s going to be okay.

Maybe I’ll still need those meds, but I’d like to try the tea and the D and the smelly stuff first. No matter what, I’m gonna keep fighting this. Anxiety doesn’t own me. It won’t break me from my family or what I want to do. If I need Zoloft or something to help me fight back, then that’s what I’ll take.

But I will fight this, God. You put me through so damn much to make me stronger. I will not stop fighting, I will not. Stop. Fighting.

Nor should you stop fighting, readers. Never ever.

Keep reading. Sharing. Writing. Shining. Reach out with your hands to those around you. You never know who needs that hand of love to pull them out of the darkness.

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 15

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Yowza, I nearly forgot to write today! It’s been a mess of school work and Blondie. For the first time in ages, the majority of my students actually give a cheese wedge about their work. For a teacher, this is both awesome and awful all at once.

Awesome: Yay, look at all this in-depth idea-sharing and topic-exploring!

LEARNING!

Awful: I gotta grade ALL this? Dammit.

So you know how on the 8th I wrote about the boys getting into a fight and pulling me away from Blondie’s parent visitation day? I made up for the time lost with Blondie by taking her to the local humane society this afternoon. We learned about being volunteers, and…yup, I signed up to volunteer with her.

I gripe so much here about stealing time from my kids, about trying to make time for them. It hit me watching her with the cats that I need to make time for her. If I don’t make it a thing, then months are going to pass before we have moments like this again.

Dammit, I will NOT let that happen. Come summer, we’re going to the humane society 1-2 times a week, and we’re going to work together to help these animals and clean up the place. She’s going to learn that caring for animals is more than playing with them, and I’m going to learn that my jobs do not have to dominate my life.

LEARNING!

We also learned some hopeful news about the boys from their school’s social worker. Turns out the fight they got into last week could have been prevented: last-minute scrambling for a substitute resulted in all sixty kindergarteners sharing a classroom at one point, where both Biff and Bash usually use the same seat, just one different days. Well both went to “his seat” and no teacher thought beforehand to get a second seat. Fists ensued.

The social worker apologized about that, and also informed me that after talking with some other peers in behavioral studies, she thinks Biff and Bash have what’s known as sensory integration disorder. Basically, it means that new stimuli in their regular environment or a new environment with lots of stimuli can basically overload them and they cannot process it decently. They don’t know how to function, sooooo they get out of control, or they break down, etc. It would take an official diagnosis to find out, but if this is the case, a diagnosis would help the boys get some extra help at school and protections from teachers eager to write up the “naughty” kids and send them home.

For the first time in years, it sounds like we might actually have an answer to what the heck is going on with these guys.

LEARNING!

Okay, back to grading for me. Thank you all for your continued support through this month of blogging, teaching, writing, mothering…and now the kids get to eat cheesy pizza and I can’t touch the crusts and I hate all food and why, WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!

Ahem.

See you tomorrow!

Oh, and check out my fiction if you’re bored. It’s around. The novel’s just 99p, the story on my site’s free, and the short stories are still free on Amazon and other platforms. It’s all good. 🙂

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

PS: I made it to the second round of interviews! I’m guessing the panel doesn’t know I used a Charlie Horse puppet to teach college students about research questions and thesis statements…

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

 

#Lessons Learned from #MotherNature: #Inspiration for the #Monsters of #Fiction Hide Under Every Leaf.

With the eighteen gazillion snow days my kids have had this winter, reading’s been all but impossible. Cabin fever sets in sure and fast, nerves fray–you know the drill. It’s like the fall after our basement flooded, only now we can’t even utilize the outdoors much due to the extreme cold that sweeps in, sweeps out.

Yet here I am, determined to write a “lessons learned” post SOMEhow. Look to something I read a while ago? Well I could, but that would take some research time that I don’t have because my job interview for teaching full-time’s in…90 minutes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Don’t worry, this is NOT like the panic of yesterday. It’s just that I haven’t worked full-time since Blondie was born, making even the potential for this culture shift intimidating. As Bo says, though, it is NOT worth worrying about unless I actually get the job.

So, let’s divert from that bridge for a moment and think of warmer climes, where dew drops hug the tree leaves and a million lives scurry around us, out of sight. Every day, every hour, these lives are in life or death struggles to eat, fight, and survive. Duels over prey, wars over homeland. Nonstop action at every turn….

…until winter when everyone’s gotta hibernate.

I’m talkin’ about bugs.

flowers macro praying mantis insect
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Bash is our bug kid. He’ll stare at books on insects for ages. He’ll watch ladybugs and ants traverse across the sidewalk (until Biff comes over to stomp on them). The tiniest life fascinates him.

I forget how, but I stumbled upon a cancelled show still on YouTube that brought his love for bugs to his siblings. This show was a savior during the snowdaypacolypse.

I’m talkin’ about Monster Bug Wars.

Just listen to that cool movie-trailer voice they got to narrate this show.

Every episode is like this! “In this life and death struggle….For the centipede, will it be fight, or flight?…The katydid, katydidn’t.”

Okay, I made that last one up, but this narrator is full of dark and dangerous turns of phrase to make every showdown the most epic showdown of them all. You’d think you’re watching a wrestling match, or some action schlock movie (probably why like it, then, ahem).

But more than the voice, my attention was hooked by the bugs. For instance, check out this snippet on the moss mantis.

Look at that camouflage, all the little mossy-like bits on its exoskeleton. How it sways in the breeze like any other leafy growth.

Imagine something like that the size of a dog. A bear.

Suddenly those hooked arms and mandibles are pretty damn terrifying, aren’t they?

~TWO HOURS LATER~

How in Hades did I forget about the time difference?!

Okay, the job interview is done and done. A bit of rambling, a bit of awkward Loony Tunes-style vocal staggers into the phone, but I was me, and that’s…well, dramatic, to say the least. No different than I am in the classroom.

Anyway. Back to bugs.

As a fantasy writer, the pressure’s always on to create worlds unique unto themselves. This means I–and I’m assuming other writers–feel like we have to create from scratch. Yet when I look at creatures like this mantis or spider, I can’t help but wonder: why are we starting from scratch when such amazing monsters already live among us?

No, I’m not saying you make giant bugs be the monsters of your stories. What I am saying is that these creatures are a wealth of inspiration: the way they melt into their surrounding environments. Their weapons. Their weaknesses. Their fighting styles. The way they hunt, breed, survive.

Our world overflows with creations both beautiful and terrible. In the writer’s quest to bring the unique and never-before-seen to readers, we too often forget the wealth of unknown predators that move in our oceans and forests. Utilize the mind-blowing traits of such predators, and you’ll create a monster that truly terrifies characters and readers alike.

Speaking of creepy monsters in the forest that want to feast upon you, nothing says “Happy Valentine’s Day!” like a book about monsters, magic, and love. Check out my novel on sale for 99 cents!

we have all of us had our bloody days, charlotte. for many it is easier to remain in them than to change. to change requires to face a past stained by screams. (15)

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 13

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

Working from home has lots of pros. I can prepare my non-sugar non-dairy non-gluten non-joyful lunch with anything handy here. I can run errands whenever. I can sit in the recliner with my dad’s ancient laptop and ice my back while writing. I can work with my students at 5am or 8pm, whenever’s convenient.

But I’m with my own thoughts aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the time.

And with depression always lurking on the edge, this isolation can get nasty.

Take this morning.

The heater goes wonky.

I’ve got fifty posts from students to sort through, not including their projects. This all needs to get graded in the next few days.

I have an interview for a full-time position to prepare for.

I have a novel that needs serious course correction.

Will the boys be sent home again?

How will we afford Bash’s ER visit from that damn lego up his nose?

What if the heater breaks?

What if the roof starts leaking from all that heavy snow?

Blondie so badly wants to spend time with animals. Where to do that, when to do that…

I have to go to choir tonight on these shitty roads and I HATE driving on slick roads, I’ll spin out, I’ll end up in the ditch and how will we afford that?

My heart starts going nuts.

My breathing rushes.

I get light-headed.

I KNOW WHAT THIS IS.

NOT A HEART ATTACK. A PANIC ATTACK.

I WON’T LET IT GET TO ME.

I stagger upstairs, call Bo. He talks about work, about the roads, about anything as I slowly get up, open a window. Breathe.

Breathe, Jean, breathe.

Panic attacks fucking suck. They have a strong ally in depression.

But you won’t beat this lady. I’ve faced postpartum depression twice without meds. I’ve battled my own body. I faced the Monster who abused me. I’ve overcome loss and pain and FUCK you, panic, you will NOT own me.

I’m gonna keep breathing. Fighting. Mothering. Writing.

Never give up, my friends. Never, ever, give up.

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

Oh, PS, the novel’s on sale, yadda yadda. 

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

 

#Author #Interview: #Wisconsin #Indie #Writer Walter Rhein Discusses #Family, #Reading, & the #WritingLife in the Current #BookPublishing Environment

Featured

50572361_575484532926888_3999712917447507968_nThe kids are stuck home for yet another snow day. This is No. 5? 6? In any case, writing’s pretty much out the window.

Thankfully I’m pleased as cheese (that I can’t eat, but still, Wisconsin is the Dairyland State) that I can introduce you to multi-genre author Walter Rhein.

Let’s talk first about reading awesome stuff. What is your favorite childhood book? C’mon, say Voyage of the Dawn Treader, you know you want to! 

Haha, is that your favorite Narnia book? If I was to go with something from C.S. Lewis I’d say Out of the Silent Planet. I’m a big fan of Roald Dahl, it’s hard to pick one, maybe James and the Giant Peach. Also, I’ve been reading Calvin & Hobbes to my kids at night, and I’m always impressed by how much insight Bill Waterson has into the fundamental nature of childhood. Do other people identify that much with Calvin or is it just me?

OH MY GOSH YES! We found all our old Calvin & Hobbes collections when the basement flooded. The kids LOVE reading them, which is awesome…until one starts using some of Calvin’s vocabulary at school and winds up seeing the principal as a result. That’s not so awesome.

Anyway, what authors did you dislike at first but grew into?

I think that The Catcher in the Rye is one of those books where there’s a small window in your life where it really hits you like a punch in the face. I think high schools do it a disservice by teaching it in Sophomore years. I think you need to approach it a bit later. Sooner or later you’ll feel what Holden was feeling, and Catcher is magical if you pick it up at that moment. However, if you’re reading it against your will it becomes absolutely miserable…which is unfortunate.

I know just what you mean. I recall being forced to read The Count of Monte Cristo in college and absolutely loathed it, but when I tried it again a few years ago, I was completely enraptured. It’s like there needs to be a shedding of expectations, an allowance to read for reading’s sake, and allow the story to dictate the pace rather than the reader.

What is the first book that made you cry? Where the Red Fern Grows made me sob when I was a kid.

I remember being pretty upset at the end of The Elfstones of Shannara. I also found the first 6 minutes of Transformers: The Movie completely devastating. I know it was just a big advertisement to get us to buy toy robots…but it meant something to me dang it!

Oh yeah, I made the mistake of showing this “kid’s movie” to my sons. Watch the opening if you dare, folks. This movie opens with an entire planet of living robots BEING EATEN. Kids love death on a planetary scale!

(Gotta say, though, that the theme song is totally metal.)

Bash sobbed for ages after it was done, and I don’t blame him–you’re watching beloved Robots in Disguise MELT TO DEATH throughout this movie! Biff thought it all amusing and wanted to watch it again. (Yes, we are watching him.)

 I’m sure you get a lot of authors and/or stories recommended to you that you just don’t dig—a reader’s block, as it were. Do you fight your way through to finish the story, or do you shelve the story, never to be finished?

The main reason I don’t finish a book these days is just a lack of time. Endings don’t surprise me anymore so the main craft of a book is in the beginning I believe. If an astute reader hasn’t guessed the ending of a book then there are problems with the build up. It’s pretty rare to encounter a book so terrible I have to put it down. Whether a book is published by a small press, a major publisher, or independently, there is almost always a memorable line or scene. Everybody has a worthwhile story to tell.

Excellent point. In all my years I can’t think of more than a few books that I just couldn’t bring myself to finish.  Have you read anything that made you think differently about fiction?

Actually, your book, Fallen Princeborn: Stolen has given me something to think about.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Did I mention my book’s on sale this month? 

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Grab it today!

But I interrupt. Go on, Sir. 🙂

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Walter Rhein with Janet & Chris Morris at the Library of Congress

I like the onomatopoeic words that show interjections of simultaneous action during a dialogue, and the present tense portions create a sense of urgency. Janet Morris does something similar in her Beyond series, although she slips out of it into a more traditional narrative voice. I might try doing a short story in your style just to see how it feels.

That’d be cool! It’s important to test different styles. Yeah, they might not work, but some other excellent character or plot idea may arise in that attempt, and that makes the experiment worth it.

How did publishing your first book change your process of writing?

I think you gain more confidence in the process as you go. Usually there’s a theme or an idea that I want to work through, and I come up with a lot of stories that surround that idea. Once you have a hundred pages of stories, you start to see how they connect in a storyline. I imagine that The Hobbit came as a result of Tolkien saying, “I’d like to daydream about a place called Middle-Earth for a while.” Writing a book is very much taking a journey. You take the journey because you’re curious what the scenery looks like.

You’re currently a member of the St. Croix Writers, a writing group based in the beautiful North Woods of Wisconsin. Can you share a bit about this group and its awesomeness?

StCroixWritersI just met those folks as a result of a concerted effort I’m making in 2019 to be more active in writing groups. I found a web page that listed all the writing groups in the state of Wisconsin and I wrote all of them a message. Thomas Wayne King sent me his phone number and encouraged me to call for a chat which I thought was very nice. I plan on attending their next meeting. I think a lot of writing groups could come into the 20th century a little more. There are a lot of ways that writers can support each other and I think that needs to be encouraged.

Yes, indeed! Especially because it’s easy to feel a bit cut off where we are, the “backwaters” that “real writers” don’t live in.

So of course I have to ask about Wisconsin, too, being a “Cheesehead” myself (yet not a Packer fan. I know, I know, I’m lucky not to be banished to Illinois for that.) Do you feel there’s something about Wisconsin’s land, people, or culture that inspires your storytelling? How so?

I think a lot of stories from rural Wisconsin are overlooked or dismissed. There’s quite a bit of arrogance in the writing community, and an impulse to disregard certain stories, which is unfortunate. Everyone has a story to tell, and all of those stories are very important and deserve attention. Actually, if you want to read more about my thoughts on this matter, check out my article “Not Worthy of Study: The Catastrophic Arrogance of the Literary Community.” Go Packers!

Ugh, don’t even TALK to me about the Packers after this lousy excuse of a season!

Aaaaaaanyway… 😛

It can be a huge struggle balancing the writing side of life with that of family. Does your family inspire your stories, or support you in your writing endeavors? In what way(s)?

I’ll often read my stories to my girls at night before they go to sleep. If they pay attention all the way to the end, I know I have something good. If they drift off, I know I have to rewrite. They’re very honest and that’s vital.

Aw, that’s so awesome! I haven’t dared share my writing with my kids. When I see them, the fear of disappointing them digs too deep.

You regularly travel between the United States and Peru to visit family. How amazing to be immersed in such different cultures! What kinds of inspiration do you draw from the Peruvian landscape, culture, and people?

I went to Peru when I was 26 and it was super helpful to me because it was so inexpensive to live there. As a writer, you need a lot of time, not just for writing, but for reflection. Also, you can go a lot time between pay days writing, so it’s nice not to have a lot of financial pressure. Being in a foreign country is great for anyone because it shows that whole societies are built on radically different ideas. This is useful to see in person if you’re one of those people who walks around thinking, “So many things in our society seem wrong to me.” People will tell you that you’re crazy if you point out an error. “That’s the way it’s always been,” they say. It’s a massive existential boost to see that, no, it HASN’T always been that way in other parts of the world.

As much as I love my kids, they can be my writing Kryptonite: nothing zaps the creative drive like a call from the principal or a kid waking waaaay too early for his own good. What is your writing Kryptonite?

The internet.

HA! 

I’m the first to admit I “Google as I go” as far as researching is concerned. How long do you spend researching before beginning a book?

I think research is more important to a tech type writer, somebody like Tom Clancy where historical items are far more important to the plot. I’m a character type writer, so research doesn’t play that big a role. However, my most recent release, Paperclip, required some research. We did it on the fly, and we found exactly what we were looking for. It turns out there were some documents that were supposed to be shredded by the government but got misfiled instead—you can’t make stuff like that up!

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Oh, what a lucky find!

You and I are both published via small presses, which are different than self-publishing programs or the “traditional” publishing houses, so we see things a bit differently in the publishing industry. What do you think is the most unethical practice in the publishing industry, and what can be done to change it?

There are a lot of things I’d like to change in the publishing industry. One of the things I really dislike is that people seem to be afraid to express their own opinions. A narrative gets created about a book, and people fall in step with what the narrative states. I’ve been fortunate where I’ve felt the tidal effect of a positive narrative, but it still is a disquieting feeling. I used to get in trouble in college classes a lot because I like to offer nuanced opinions, but the mass of people want to reassign you to a larger, dumbed down narrative. “Well it sounds like you’re saying this…” they say, when you aren’t saying anything of the sort.

Oh yes, I’ve noticed that, these “narratives.” There’s hype that will lump the book into a certain group, and if you disagree than you’re an awful person. There’s no nuance anymore, no “I liked Element A in the book but not B, and here’s why.” It’s all or nothing.

Mostly, I’d like to see new authors get more of a fair shake, but part of advertising is to take customers away from the competition. The thing I’m doing to change it is to read and engage with as many new authors as I can. I’ve become pretty bored with major Hollywood releases, there are some fascinating works out there in small-press and independent publishing.

Kudos to you, Sir! There’s such a wealth of amazing tales out there that the mainstream media never touches. It’s up to us to dig them up!

Lastly, what are common traps for aspiring writers, and how can they avoid them?

A lot of the general beliefs about what it means to be a writer are just flat out wrong, and there are a lot of people giving bad advice. The big thing to remember is that the money is supposed to flow TO the writer, not FROM the writer. Even if it’s not a lot of money, it needs to be going TO you. The other thing to keep in mind is that your work will often be rejected without being read. There are some agents and publishers who send out really snooty form letters, and you’ll get these even from an email query that doesn’t even include an attachment of your work. It’s pretty much a rigged game with no chance of success, but play it anyway. Maybe we should all be thankful for that because I think too much attention is just as destructive to your ability to do important work as too little. Every story is important, and every story has an audience. Thanks for having me!

And thank you for taking the time to chat! Lord willing I can drive up to Chippewa Falls sometime for a chat. 🙂

If you’re in northern Midwest, Rhein and co-author Dan Woll are having a talk about writing and marketing thrillers. 

Check it out on February 18th!

About the Author:

Walter Rhein maintains a web page about travel, musings on writing, and other things at StreetsOfLima.com. His novels with Perseid Press include: The Reader of Acheron, The Literate Thief, and Reckless Traveler. His novel The Bone Sword was published with Harren Press, and his novel Beyond Birkie Fever was originally published with Rhemalda Publishing. He currently splits his time between the US and Peru, and can be reached for questions or comments at: WalterRhein@gmail.com.

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed

#Whole30 #Writing Log: Day 5

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (3)

How the heck am I supposed to cheat with the good creamer when Bo’s home from work?

It’s taken a lot of stealthy sneakery, let me tell you. I put him on tooth-brushing detail before the school bus came. I’ve waited until he’s checking something on Facebook. I’ve listened for him to shut the bathroom door.

Aha! Creamer! It’s mine, I tell you, MIIIIINE!

Ahem.

And then he had to go into the kitchen to make his lunch. Can’t he cook somewhere else? Use the grill, most of the snow’s melted by now.

Dammit, now I gotta use the cashew milk.

BLECH YUCK BLECHITY BLECH

Ahem.

So why is Bo off of work? Biff and Bash have a concert this afternoon during their school day. It’s themed “All Things February,” only without anything Valentiney for some reason. Who wants to sing about Valentine’s Day when you’ve got American presidents, groundhogs, weather, and nonsense words like “skinnamarink”?

Buuuut it’s a bunch of kingergarteners, so therefore it will be cute. So long as they’re not singing about poop or farts, I’m fine.

What, don’t your kindergarteners sing about poop and farts? Don’t your third graders? Mine do!

No, I’m not subjecting you to that nonsense. If you want a taste of their humor, go check out the best-selling Middle Grade comic series Dog-Man.

515fAmmGpEL._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_In the meantime, I’m trying to broaden the kids’ horizons with a little poetry. I found a gorgeous picture book edition of “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” by Langston Hughes. Every line receives a painting rich and passionate, so you move slow through the poem, savoring every line.

Langston Hughes is one of my favorite poets. Reading him is always a journey of multiple senses, twisting and turning down the white-space of the page, feeling both the cut of the language and the long echo of the visual.

Just listen to this.

My favorite lines:

I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
     flow of human blood in human veins.
...
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

“When dawns were young”…what a magical phrase, infinite and divine.

Not that my kids would listen.

“Look, Mommy, I made Bumbleebee fart on Starscream!”

Sigh.

Give’em time, Jean. They’re kindergarteners. You’ll get them there in time.

Go read Langston Hughes this month. Read him out loud, too, so others can be touched by his language.

Buy my book, too, or you can read my FREE fiction here or herebut only after you read some Langston Hughes.

Free Fiction Has Come from the Wilds (2)

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

JeanLee-nameLogoBoxed