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Hey. Me, again. I am drinking mint tea out of a black mug that says, “Psycho Bitch from Hell,” on it. That should give you some idea of my mood. Yes, I am hoping to have Anita use the mug in some future book. But today, the mug is mine. It’s Sunday, but it makes almost no difference to me. Because I work out of my home, and my office is always there, always open, and the deadline for this book is so close that any spare minute must be used for the book. The deadline will arrive before the end of the book does. I’ve had to make peace with that, alright, I’ve had to try and make peace with that. I hate missing a deadline, for any reason.
The book is going well, sort of. I’m enjoying the book, always a good sign. I’ve plotted to the end of the book in more detail than I think I’ve done since OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY, or, NARCISSUS IN CHAINS. Here’s hoping that my favorite difficult girl does not throw out the last third of my plot the way she did in NARCISSUS. If Anita does, you’ll hear my screams where ever you are. I have neither time, patience, or enough deadline, for any of my characters to mess with me that badly. But truthfully, Anita hasn’t been a problem this book, well, not by her standards. She’s been suspiciously cooperative. It’s not like her. It makes me wonder when she’ll look up at me and go, aha, now I’ll make your life difficult. Actually, the two problem children for this book have been Richard and Nathaniel, okay, and Damian to a lesser degree.
Richard is still dreadfully unhappy with himself. He’s trying, he really is, but it takes time to heal that much pain. And for all of you that think his only problem is that Anita dumped him (by the way reread the scene, he dumped her), trust me, that’s not it. People act like your lover, you girlfriend, is your major relationship. It is, and it isn’t. Most of us end up in therapy because of things that happen with our blood relatives. Things we did, they did. Things we failed to do, that they failed to do. So messy. I’m just trying to give Richard room to maneuver. I know what’s eating him, Anita hasn’t found all of it out, yet. That heart to heart is still to come. Shit.
Nathaniel has just demanded his share of the book. I can’t blame him, I guess. He is doing almost all the house cleaning. That earns brownie points in my book. I love a man who is more domestic than I am. Of course, it’s not hard to be more domestic than I am.
Damian’s major pain in the butt moments, I think, are done for this book, but we learned a lot about his background that we didn’t know before. We’ve got the beginnings of a future book plot from it. Yeah, yeah, read all the Damian plots and see if you can spot the seed of the idea. Just kidding. Those of you who are going to read it minutely, go ahead, but those of you who just read for enjoyment, just read. Don’t worry about it. The idea is only a seed now. Like OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY was once. It usually takes years to go from that first scribble, or hint, to an actual book.
Right now, I had this fairly simple scene with only Nathaniel, Jason, and Anita in the room. Usually, they don’t argue amongst themselves too much. But no, Richard had to make a metaphysical guest appearance, and suddenly it’s turned into a major scene. Crap. I want to get back to the mystery. I’m tired of wading through other people’s personal shit. Shouldn’t wading through my own be enough? I should have known Richard would make an appearance, because the scene slowed down. Every scene he’s been in, has slowed to a crawl. I thought it was because I was dreading him and Anita fighting, but it happens even when only my subconscious knows it’s coming.
Everyone thinks I’m Anita. A lot of people thought that Richard represented my ex-husband. Hate to burst anyone’s bubble but this is fiction. Try to bear that in mind. I finally, this book, realized who Richard reminds me of. Me.
Richard is that part of me that hated myself. That part that wanted to be “normal”. That part that didn’t want to think differently from the vast majority of people on this planet. That part of me that really did cling to the life my up-bringing told me I was ‘supposed’ to have. I spent a lot of my adult life arguing with myself. Not wanting to like what I liked, enjoy what I enjoyed, or be fascinated by what fascinated me. Not wanting to embrace myself, accept myself. Wanting to reject everything that made me comfortable in my own skin, in my own head, in my own self. Richard is that part of me that is still fighting the good fight. Still trying to pound himself into a square hole, when he is so a round peg. That’s why part of me hates Richard, because I still hate that part of myself. It’s also why I love Richard, because I’ve been there, fought the fight, lost the war, and there’s no t-shirt, no medal. In the end is only the knowledge of who you are, what you are, and that the things that make you happy aren’t evil. You aren’t evil for wanting them. And the only person that can stand in judgment of you, is the people you allow to stand in judgment of you. Don’t give them that power over you. Don’t accept it. Be who you are. I went through therapy to find myself, and not to hate or be ashamed of what and who I am. Richard is at the beginning of his therapy, and that is a frightening, painful place to be. I do not envy him the journey, but I know the destination is worth it, because I’m there. I’m happy. Not only do I embrace who I am, but I get paid good money for some of my ‘strange’ ideas. The very things that made junior high hell, and high school not my best thing, and made me an outsider during college, and hell, an outsider at every parent meeting, or herd event. I finally realized that I’m not a herd animal. I’m the animal on the fringes watching the herd, and thinking, hmm, did that one limp? Predator sometimes. Sometimes I’m the animal in the tree trying to figure out how to shove a stick in a hole and get the termites out, while the herd passes under that tree. I have friends, and they are my pack, my group, but all my close friends share that odd way of looking at the world. We are the fringe animals, not the ones in the middle following the crowd. And that’s okay, it’s okay to be the predator, or the monkey in the tree trying to invent a new way of doing something.
In an effort to put more weekend in our weekend, and a little less work, we have plans with friends. Lunch, a movie, and then I have to get back to work. Funny how that works. But let me leave you with this, embrace whatever animal you are. If you are happy in the herd, rock on, but if the herd just keeps trampling you underfoot, get out of the herd. Find a nice safe rock to hide behind, or a tree to climb, and stop letting everyone make you feel bad because you don’t want to eat grass with everyone else.