happiness Archives - Laurell K. Hamilton

20 things I’ve learned about true love –

1. If you dread going home to the love of your life, they aren’t.

2. If you’d been happily married over ten years and people tell you, you’re lucky, it’s not luck – you’ve all worked your asses off to stay this happy.

3. Mind blowing sexual passions can last for decades, but you both have to want it, crave it, work at it.

4. Yes, I said you have to work at keeping passion alive in your long term relationships. Why does everyone think that they can work at their careers, their friendships, their family, their kids, their hobbies, but that great sex will just take care of itself? It doesn’t.

5. Find someone who is passionate about you in the bedroom and out of it.

6. Talk to each other, not just about the bills, or who’s driving the kids to soccer practice, or who picked up the dry cleaning, but about things that interest you. Bring your stories, your dreams, your goals, your fancies to each other always.

7. Get in shape together, or at least at the same time. Keep each other healthy. Or at least don’t sabotage each other.

8. Don’t go to bed angry.

9. Don’t be afraid to go to couple’s therapy.

10. Don’t be afraid to push each other outside your comfort zones, but remember to find enough comfort in your lives for you to all be happy.

11. If something is bothering you in the relationship talk about it early, before resentment builds up.

12. Remember that most big fights aren’t about the dirty clothes on the floor, the burnt dinner, the missed appointment, or whatever you think you’re fighting about. It’s about how it makes your partner, or you feel. The dirty sock on the floor can be the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it’s not the whole camel.

13. Schedule couple time regularly and make sure you both agree on what that time is used for, or take turns deciding.

14. Schedule alone time, remember each of you was a whole person before you found each other. Being in a relationship doesn’t change that.

15. Being in love should help you be more of who you are, a better, happier version of you. If you feel worse, sad, and miserable, then something has gone wrong.

16. There will be days when you’re sad, exhausted, overwhelmed, that’s normal. Being in love, even true love, doesn’t mean being happy every minute of every day. Only worry when the bad days out number the good for months. The good should out weigh the bad in a relationship, but it won’t get rid of all the bad stuff in your lives. This is true love, not a Disney Princess movie. (With apologies to both Frozen and Frozen 2.)

17. Remember to kiss and cuddle often. Both are proven mood boosters, and help keep our pair bond with our partners stronger. This is science people.

18. Try to find someone who’s level of skin hunger matches your own. Do not assume that the level of passion in the early days is normal for both of you. Discuss your expectations for passion and touching as the years go by. You’d be surprised at the number of people that assume passion will cool and that’s normal. If you both agree on that, great, but if only half of you agrees that’s a problem. I’m not just talking sex here, but literally the amount of touching, hand holding, kissing, physical affection in general.

19. You can grow together as a couple, or you can grow apart from each other. Choose wisely.

20. Remember that falling in love is the beginning of your story together, not the end.

You be you, Boo-boo, and I’ll be me.

I tried to be jollier than I actually felt for the family holiday get-together. I had these candy cane tights that Genevieve had helped me find; I used to love Christmas the way she loves Halloween, but even at my most ho-ho-ho, I never dressed in the bold colors of the season. I’ve owned one Christmas Sweater in my life and it was a gift. But I had these tights so I put them on and then I had a red skirt and a red shirt and even red laces in my boots. I looked very festive, but the more I passed a mirror the less like me I looked. Who was this person dressed all in bright red with candy canes on their legs? It was jarring every time I caught a glimpse of myself, like seeing a stranger when you were expecting to just see yourself.

I tried to keep the outfit on until the family arrived, and I made it for the first guests that arrived a little early, but by that time I was so unhappy that I excused myself and went up to change. I tried just changing red skirt for black, the boots were black so it still matched. I looked in the mirror and it was a relief to see less color and more black, some tension eased in my shoulders that had been growing all day. But it still wasn’t enough, I still didn’t feel like me, so I got out a black shirt with white lettering that says, “I’m only here because I heard Santa’s elves would be here.” There are red and green elf hats at the bottom of the shirt, but other than that it’s black. I put that on and suddenly there was enough black to balance out the bright blue, red, and green of the candy cane tights. This I could manage.

I went back downstairs to greet more guests still looking festive, but when I caught glimpses of myself in the mirrors it still looked like me. I was much happier and the evening went well. It was a good holiday with everyone, but to enjoy it I had to be me. That’s my bit of wisdom to share today, be yourself. If you are a Who down in Whoville that wants to decorate the house from top to bottom including a Santa Claus Hat with a bell on it for yourself and an apron covered in gingerbread men then go for it; be happy! But if you’re more Grinch, or Goth, then honor that. Find a black t-shirt with a funny, but non-insulting holiday image on it ( I say non-insulting if you’re going to be around family or friends that are more Whoville than you are. Let’s not start the family brawl if we can avoid it.) On the other hand, my fellow Goths do not let The Who’s pressure you into dressing like they do, unless you want to do it. Do not let them put you in something that makes you feel like a stranger to yourself, as if the body snatchers have come and whisked you away. Be yourself, especially during the holidays. It’s stressful enough without feeling like you’re wearing someone else’s clothes. And for you happy Who’s don’t get mad at your Grinch or Goth, if they want to wear black even on Christmas Day. It’s who they are and you love them, right?

So let’s avoid the Christmas wars this year and everyone be themselves. Be the happiest most you version of yourself this year and remember to honor the people you love and their level of Christmas cheer. If you are a Who, allow the family Goths to wear black, or at least don’t force them to wear that bright sweater with the glowing reindeer on it. If you’re a Grinch, don’t suck the happiness out of your family Who’s by behaving as if just sitting down to dinner with all of them is torture worthy of the Spanish Inquisition. Also, no sullenness or whining unless you’re under ten and need a nap. Sullenness and whining sucks the crunchy goodness out of everyone’s holiday no matter what side of Santa’s list you’re on.

So happy holidays, everyone! May you Who’s enjoy the season, the whole shiny package! May you Grinch’s find something to enjoy in between all this crass commercialism! May you Goths find a black shirt that celebrates the season just enough to keep the rest of the family from shoving you into an ugly holiday sweater! May those of you who love the big family and friends dinners have all the happy togetherness and great food you want! May those of you who think that Christmas should be spent alone reading by a fire with not a mouse stirring find your peaceful haven! Whatever the holidays mean to you, whatever will bring you the most joy, the most peace, the most contentment may you find it for the holidays and all the rest of the new year.

Choose Joy

Choose joy

Yesterday was a hard day. I had a serious fight with someone I love. No fight gets as vicious as one between loved ones because we know each other’s weakness, and the painful spots, so we can drive the knife in deep where it counts. Fights with people we care about are the worst for that reason and because if it’s bad enough you can irreparably damage the relationship – forever. There came a moment of decision.

I could hold a grudge and make things worse, or I could choose joy and give the person who hurt me a chance to redeem the relationship. I chose joy, they worked their issues, and it was good. It was so much better than holding onto the resentment and anger would have been. A grudge leaves no room for joy, or healing. I chose to try and to believe we could work things out and today is a much better day. But I did not choose blindly and it took the other person, who was part of the negativity, to work their issues and risk being vulnerable enough to come to me with renewed effort. I did the same, because no matter who is right, or wrong, it usually takes both people in a fight to cause it – even if only a little on one side. Don’t keep score; heal, do better, talk, communicate the shit out of how you got into the bad moment and what you can do to get out of it and onto something better.

Please, notice above that I didn’t forgive and just accept the apology and go on. We both worked the issues that had led to the fight and talked about it. We talked about it until the discussion is almost as hard as the fight, but without the talking and the willingness to work the issues involved, forgiveness doesn’t work. Yes, you read that right. Forgiveness is empty if the person you’re forgiving keeps doing the same hurtful things over and over again because that means they didn’t mean the apology. Or, if they only mean the apology when they are in the middle of the fight, or see the pain they’re causing their loved ones, but then they go right back to the bad behavior – they aren’t sorry. Or they’re not sorry enough to change the behavior causing the problem. If that’s the case, then you’re screwed. Your only choices are to either settle for being dragged into their painful drama forever, or to walk away. If people won’t work their issues, you can’t work them for them. You cannot carry another person’s burden without depriving that person of the lessons they’re supposed to learn to become the best possible THEM, they can be. Look at it this way, if you keep rescuing the princess, she never learns to rescue herself. Or, if you keep putting up with the ogre’s horrible behavior, he will never turn into the handsome prince, because you’ll stay with the ogre. Its hard work to become a prince, or a self-rescuing princess, or a princess if your ogre runs to the feminine sort, or a self-rescuing prince – its freaking hard work to change yourself. People seldom do it for real, they do just enough to get by and then the old habits come back. Old habits, even self-destructive ones are strangely comforting, because they are the known, the familiar. The unknown and the unfamiliar scare the hell out of most people, but if you let the fear of the unknown stop you, your life is automatically limited. Is that what you want, a limited life? No? Then you have to forge ahead into the unknown, explore new worlds, new possibilities, because when the old habits lead you to the same bad places, bad relationships, dead end jobs, unhealthy bodies, the only way to find a better place to be, better relationships, a job you love, or one that supports you and your family better, or both, and/or a healthier body, is to try something new. Don’t let old habits, old pain, old issues, old fears, old unhappiness win! If you and your loved ones are willing to do the work you can find new, healthier habits, heal the pain, work through the issues that are stopping you, conquer the fears, and find yourself happier!

Choose joy, but understand that joy takes work. Decide to be happier, healthier, more productive, whatever you need in your life, and then be willing to do the work to make it happen. Choose Joy, and then work your ass off to get it, and keep it.

Welcome Home, and Thanks for all the Fish!

I plunged my hands into the cool water watching the fish swirl away and school in the far side of the big tank. I was back at the pond store, just like last year, to add to the koi in our water garden. All but one of our fish survived in the new pond even with this amazingly harsh winter. Sorry, everyone on the East Coast, I know you’ve had it harder than we had it here in the middle of the country, but it was the worst winter I’ve ever seen here in Missouri. We had more snow, colder temperatures, and just plain serious winter here, so I watched the frozen pond and worried about our beautiful koi. We honestly worried that all the fish would be dead come spring, and then it was still snowing here in March. Again, it was the worst “spring” on record here because winter seemed here to stay, but the thaw finally came and we watched anxiously as the ice melted. Much to our surprise all the koi, save the one, survived. The pond has a very deep section in the middle with a rock that spills over it like a protective roof, and apparently it was enough shelter to keep them all safe and sound.

So, today we went back to the same pond store that I bought those hardy koi at, because the pond is huge and I love the koi. I’ve wanted a koi pond with enough fish in it to boil in a shining, mouth-gaping mass when you feed them, just like at the Botanical Gardens, for years. We have koi to feed, but to have that beautiful carnivorous looking boil we need more koi, which is why I was trying to catch some of those bright, swirling shapes that swam just out of reach.

Last year we’d sent pictures and used FaceTime to show Genevieve, our long distance girlfriend, as I added the first koi to the pond. The FaceTime had frozen and timed out, and finally we’d gone to talking on the phone to her as we walked around the pond and spilled those first shining fish into the water. We shared it as much as we could with her, but the technology that helped us stay in touch over hundreds of miles was very frustrating that day. Smart phones, tablets, and the internet in general allowed Long Distance Relationships, LDR, to work better than ever before, but last spring was about the time that it just wasn’t enough with Genevieve. We wanted more with her than just texting and shared pictures, or even phone calls. It just wasn’t satisfying enough after four years of dating.

Skip forward a year and today I was back at the same pond store walking among the pools of fish. I wasn’t talking on the phone with Genevieve this time, or sending pictures, because she was there beside me. We picked out the new fish together, plunging the net into the water, herding the fish towards each other with our hands, as if we were bears catching salmon, but we weren’t going to eat these fish. They were coming home with us because now Genevieve and her husband, Spike, are living here. Home is all four of us in one house now.

The fish swim and swirl through the water, quick silver, flashes of gold, shining white, Halloween orange and black, gray-blue like lightning kissed clouds, all dancing through the water, fins flicking, tails like lacy rudders. The butterfly koi are serpentine in their pools, graceful and delicate. The regular koi are heavier, more fish than serpent but still beautiful, shivering living pieces of art that open hungry mouths and run from our hands as if we really are hungry bears reaching down into their world of water and lifting them up into our’s of air.

It was Genevieve that remembered that it was only last spring that we had that frustrating day of koi and failed technology. We smiled at each other and reached across the car to touch. She said, “I’m so happy I’m here this year.”

“Me, too,” I said grinning at her.

She grinned back, and we drove home with our new fish. Home has always been a great word, but it’s even better this year because now, “home” holds the people we love under one roof, at last.

New Blog – Happy Winter Solstice from Our Family to Yours

Listening to Christmas carols and the ocean, as I sit outside and write to the glow of holiday lights. The windows are open behind me so the carols on the blue tooth speaker are background noise to the pounding waves. The wind has picked up from the gentle slap of earlier. The sea had sounded almost lazy as we walked along the shore, but now the sound alone makes me know there’d be no swimming off the beach and even a small boat would be a rocky ride tonight. The stars that had been so brilliant earlier are hidden behind a thick cloud cover. It’s a black night beside the sea and even with the glow of the Christmas lights I’m strangely melancholy. I guess it’s the time of year for it, remembering the people that aren’t here for the holiday and never will be again this side of the grave. Missing my mother is a constant, but I wonder what my grandmother would think about our tower by the sea, to my knowledge she never saw the ocean and never wanted to.

I can smell the steaks cooking under Spike’s watchful eye. Genevieve is helping Jon prepare fresh green beans for pan sauté with garlic and a few other spices. It’s nearly eighty degrees outside while Bing Crosby sings about a white Christmas that will never happen here. The ocean pounds, the carols sing, the lights glow, the dogs wonder why I won’t throw the ball while I type, and it’s almost time for dinner with my polyamorous foursome. Life is good, but there will always be those people who aren’t with me at the holidays that make it a strange time of happiness and sorrow.

Trinity, our daughter, will be joining us from college later. This is her first year away and the first time she has to come back for the holidays. It is both wonderful and a little sad, as well. She is off on her own adventure and we’re thrilled, but it’s another big change and all change can translate to loss in our heads and in our hearts if we’re not careful to remember the difference. It’s all good, but it is different.

Genevieve introduced me to the song, ” All I Want for Christmas is a Real Good Tan,” by Kenny Chesney from 2003. It was pretty appropriate for this year, though we all slather ourselves up with sunscreen in an effort to avoid sunburn. The idea of a tropical holiday isn’t new. Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters were singing about it with, “Mele Kalikimaka” the Hawaiian Christmas song in 1950. Ella Fitzgerald crooned, “Christmas Island,” in 1960. When I was a little girl I loved having a white Christmas with lots of snow, but I’m pretty good sitting here with a warm ocean just outside the door and palm trees swaying in the tropical breeze. White sand will do just fine as a stand in for all that snow.

The picture with this blog is from my office for the day where three of the dogs helped inspire me, just like they do at home.

I hope that all of you reading this will have a wonderful holiday celebration whether it is Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Yule, or Winter Solstice, and that family, whether of choice or of blood, gather round you. May you have friends, and if a solitary holiday is what you want I hope you enjoy your own company, because in the end no matter how many people we love, or love us, it is ourselves that we come to in the end and always.

Celebrating being #1 on the New York Times List!

The newest Anita Blake novel, Jason, is #1 on the New York Times List! Thanks to everyone that bought the book and showed how much they loved Jason the novel, and Jason the character! Thanks to all the booksellers virtual and brick and mortar!

When I sold my first story, my first husband took me out to a fancy dinner. When I sold my first novel, Nightseer, it was my Dungeons and Dragon group that surprised me with a party to celebrate.

When Guilty Pleasures, the first Anita Blake novel, sold, my writing group, The Alternate Historians, made me a cake shaped like it’s cover and we had a party.

When I hit the New York Times List for the first time I was alone on tour for A Kiss of Shadows. I thought I was being calm, cool, and collected until the room service waiter brought my hot tea. I had about an hour before I had to get ready for the signing that night, so I’d ordered tea to relax. I was so calm about the news that I accidentally gave the waiter a fifty dollar tip. I caught my mistake and fixed it explaining I’d just learned about the Times List, and then added, “If you came back with a fifty dollar tip they’d think you did more than just deliver tea.” He didn’t think I was funny. My media escort took me out later to a very nice restaurant with a view of the sea.

When I cracked the top five with Narcissus in Chains, my second husband, Jonathon, was on tour with me. It was our first tour together. In fact, it was the first time I’d brought anyone on tour with me. We used up the cell phone batteries in his phone, my phone, and our media escort’s phone calling his family and my writing group to tell them the news. We were in San Fransisco, because we went into China Town there and bought a necklace to commemorate the event.

When I made #2 for the first time with Cerulean Sins, I went to a wonderful local bakery and bought three to five cakes of flavors that they didn’t make cupcakes in, so we could finally taste them. We invited Jonathon’s parents and other friends over and had a cake tasting party. This was before I started exercising again, or watching my nutrition. Though honestly, I have a serious weakness for cake, not sweets, but cake is yummy.

I made #2 with A Lick of Frost for the Meredith Gentry series. There were other times that the Merry books hit the List, but I honestly don’t remember what I did to celebrate for each book. But there was only one Anita Blake novel, Incubus Dreams that hit #2 before Micah brought home the gold medal.

How did I celebrate that first #1 with Micah? Which, incidentally, was my last original paperback novel; like Jason, it was a shorter piece featuring the title character though it was a mystery complete with zombies and mob connections and background on Micah that even Anita didn’t know. Years before this I’d told my friend Joanie that if I ever made #1 I’d take her family and we’d all do a trip to Disney World. When I called to tell her the news, she reminded me of the promise and that’s what we did. Joanie, her husband Jim, and their daughter, Melissa went with Jonathon, our daughter Trinity, and me to Disney. Yep, that’s right, I celebrated my first New York Times #1 book by going to the Mouselands.

I can’t remember precisely what I did to celebrate my first hardback #1 Blood Noir. I know we did dinner somewhere nice, but after going to Disney World for Micah, it was just hard to top that, especially because I was deep into writing the next Meredith Gentry book, so there wasn’t time for a trip.

So how did I celebrate Jason hitting #1? I got the calls from my Agent, Merrilee, and then my editor, Susan, while I was changing for gym. I continued getting dressed, and when I got off the phone the first thing I did was tell Genevieve and Spike. This included much jumping up and down, hugs and kisses. Jonathon wasn’t at home. I debated on texting him, but waited until I could tell him in person, much kissing ensued. Then . . . then I went to gym. I had a great workout, came home, showered, and celebrated with my happy polyamorous foursome. My real life has become special enough that my normal plans are a celebration. Realizing that truth made Jason being #1 a very special milestone.

The flowers in the picture on this blog are from my U.S. publishing team at Penguin Random House, thanks guys!

New Blog – The Four of Us

We’re getting ready for Halloween and have just finished carving pumpkins. Our foursome is complete and under one roof, Genevieve and Spike have moved in with us! We are forming a household together. One of the interesting things that’s been happening is that we aren’t getting to sleep until very late. Yes, sometimes it’s for fun and nefarious reasons, but more often it’s just that the conversation that started at dinner keeps going until late. We talk like people who don’t see each other often and have to catch up, but we’re doing it night after night. This is after celebrating four years of dating long distance.

When we first started talking seriously about moving in together there was an afternoon down at Spike and Genevieve’s house where we’d talked about everything from biology – birds, migrating geese, Monarch butterflies, dragons; video games – Shadows of Mordor, Assassins Creed, Dragon Age, to Star Wars. We’d talked for at least two hours and the far ranging conversation showed no signs of slowing down. The conversation had gotten quite silly with Jon and Spike taking turns doing lines from one of their shared geeky interests and making both Genevieve and me laugh.

Spike said, “This, if we couldn’t do this together I wouldn’t have agreed to trying to move in.”

“Me, either,” I said, “if we couldn’t do this it wouldn’t work.”

All four of us have what they used to call lively minds, which means we’re quick mentally, verbally, and all of us can hold our own in topics from heavy to light. You never know if we’ll be talking philosophy, religion, science, guns, weaponry in general, childhood memories, favorite movies, games, politics, places we want to visit together, places we’ve been, and just sharing the chemistry of four people who have found that they never bore each other.

I can show in my novels the sex and kink, the romance, the conversations that are pertinent to the character development, or plot of a given book, but I can’t show you the conversations that are utterly necessary to being a great “couple” because they would have nothing, or very little, to do with any plot. In real life it’s both more silly and more serious than I ever get to show on screen. All serious conversations in the writing must serve the larger purpose of the novel it’s in, but in reality there is no plot, no overarching plan for the “season”, or the series. You spend a lot of time winging it in real life, but in a mystery series you really can’t do that. I love any time I’ve been able to show the silliness that is absolutely necessary for me to be in a happy coupleness. I’m never going to be able to discuss politics, or philosophy on stage unless it relates directly to the book I’m writing. I slip in a few geeky happy moments, but mostly it’s all editing the fiction down to serve the purpose of the plot. Real life doesn’t work that way, it is far messier, surprising, even shocking, the turns that your world can take when you say, yes, to the adventure before you.

J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan said, “To live would be an awfully big adventure.”

It really can be if you’re willing to believe in the magic of the people around you, and understand that it’s not all romance and hot sex, that sometimes you have to plan menus and decide who does the dishes, but if you do it right, even that is part of the adventure. After all, if you don’t have dinner you never get to desert. Yeah, *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Laughs!

New Blog – When I grow up I want . . .

From the time I was twelve-years-old I never planned to marry. I would live on an island with lots of animals and write my stories, because writers could live anywhere; right? At twenty-one I left my grandmother’s house to marry my first husband. I never owned my own apartment, never lived alone, and then suddenly I was part of a couple. It had been just my grandmother and me, and now it was just my husband and me. It seemed not that different, and yet entirely different. I think if I’d come from a bigger family that I might have had more trouble transitioning to this two person system, this couple, but two seemed familiar, seemed right. By the time we celebrated our first anniversary we had one Yellow-naped Amazon parrot, a hand fed luntino Cockatiel, and a canary that would come out of its cage and play on the parrot playground. I was writing and trying to sell my stories when I wasn’t working in corporate America. We’d moved to California, so I was at least by the ocean, I was part way to my island.

Fifteen years later we were living in St. Louis, Missouri, the middle of the country, and I’d almost forgotten that island dream. I was a best-selling novelist and I was separating from my soon-to-be ex-husband. I got my first apartment that was just mine. I was able to pick out a kitchen table and chairs without consulting anyone’s opinion but my own. It was GREAT! I reveled in the freedom of just me. Well, not just me, because one room of the apartment was for our daughter, Trinity. I let her pick the color and the decor. She was five-years-old and wanted a totally pink room. At her age, so had I, and she wanted a pink canopy bed, and so had I, so who was I to argue with her? Besides, I’d already told her she could pick everything, this would be a promise that I would never make to a child this young again. The pink paint was called Candy Pink, or something equally innocuous, but we, the painters, the people who delivered the furniture, all of us, dubbed the color Eye-Bleed Pink, because it was so bright it made us nauseous to be in the room too long. One of the men who delivered her pink and white canopy bed declared the color made him dizzy. But Trinity loved her room! The rest of the apartment was mine to decorate as I saw fit, and I loved being on my own. I was never going to marry again, it hadn’t worked for me, monogamy with the wrong person is a trap I never wanted to fall into again. My ex-husband got to keep our remaining parrot and I got the two dogs; we shared Trinity.

Six months later I would be engaged to a friend I’d known for eight years, Jonathon, and we’d be planning our wedding. My first husband swept me off my feet in a gentle, geeky kind of way. Jonathon and I snuck up on each other, just friends until the moment we realized we weren’t. I’d done the big wedding once, but he hadn’t, and what my sweetie wanted, I wanted to give him, so we did it up big. Trinity and her best friend were our flower girls and they got to ride in the horse drawn carriage at the end after we were pronounced husband and wife, because if you have a little girl and you have a horse drawn carriage they get to ride in it too, that’s just a rule somewhere, or should be.

Jonathon and I celebrate our thirteenth anniversary next Monday. We are happier now, more in love now, than when we started. Having been through a marriage where ten years in, that was not the case, I value this love and our life, all the more. Trinity is happy, healthy, and off to college. We have three dogs and about twenty koi in the pond. We still live in the middle of the country, so no closer to that island I wanted at age twelve, but I am now a #1 New York Times Bestselling novelist (my agent always insists I write it that way *waves at agent*) so part of my childhood dream is on track.

Four years ago, Jonathon and I were in love with another man. He was our third, and I’d hoped he might be a live-in third someday, but the situation was too complicated. No one’s fault, just not enough honest communication and grownup straight forwardness, I think. But our ex-third introduced us to a woman and her partner. The woman was Genevieve, and her partner doesn’t matter much to this story, because two years later he would be an ex for both of us. But Genevieve would be my first girlfriend ever, and she dated both Jonathon and me. Even more than our ex-third she loved us both, equally, and I hadn’t realized how much I, we, needed that until we had it. She was states away, and we settled into a long distance relationship, LDR, most of our polyamorous relationships have been LDR. She met another man. We knew all about Spike from the beginning, because poly has only one hard rule: that everyone is honest. Spike would talk to us for hours as he planned her engagement ring. Who knew her better than we did, after all we’d been dating her a year longer than he had. We were part of the party where he planned to surprise her with the proposal. I got to help distract Genevieve so that when I turned her around he was just down on one knee with the ring held up to her. It was wonderful and we’d worked as unit to pull it off.

Next week, just after Jon and I celebrate thirteen years of wedded bliss, Genevieve and Spike are moving in with us. They are bringing their two dogs, and yes we have introduced our packs with the help of a local “Dog Whisperer”. Genevieve will also be bringing her fifty-five gallon aquarium of fish. She and I have already talked about a possible lizard, and more fish. Both Spike and I are terribly allergic to cats, and that is a blow to her, but she loves us both, even enough to risk never owning a cat again. I am getting shots, and hope to find a way, someday, for her to have her beloved felines again. She has also asked about parrots, but I am allergic to feathers, which was one reason I had to give up the parrot to my ex-husband. I miss having birds, very much, and hope to find one type I am not allergic to. I’m the writer I dreamed about being, and we will soon have as many dogs as I envisioned as a child, and I hope, nearly pray, that we may add more animals as time goes on, now all we need is that island. Some place tropical, Genevieve?

New Blog: Filling up the Emptiness

You know that empty spot inside you? The one that feels like a bottomless pit that’s as wide as the Grand Canyon? If you don’t have one of these desolate places inside you, then you don’t need to read any further. Enjoy your happy and issue free life! But if you are like many of us and understand exactly what I mean, welcome.

I don’t know if I had the empty spot, before my mother died, but since I was only six at the time it’s hard for me to judge. Whatever the reason that caused that dark space inside me that nothing seemed to fill up, I did try to fill it up with many things. I tried books and reading, then I found writing and that worked for a long time. Then I fell in love for the first time and I thought that would do it, but no love outside of ourselves can completely fill that void. Years later, the marriage broke, and I vowed I’d give up on love, but dating led to falling in love with a friend. I thought this is it, this will work, and it did, it has, it is, but it doesn’t fill up the emptiness. Love is a light in the dark, but it does not destroy it all. I say again, no love outside of ourselves can fill that space of need. If religion fills that void for you, then wonderful, but though I am devoted to my path of faith it does not fill the hole. What Deity showed me, was the isses that dug the hole in the first place, and how I might heal the damage. If I was willing to work hard and experience most of the pain again, then I could heal, but it wasn’t guaranteed. If your God, or Goddess, promises you an easy path, and surety of success then you may not be hearing the voice of God, but the voice of something you want to be true. True faith is a path filled with many stones and thorns, because it is not the easy road that makes a warrior. If the word warrior doesn’t work for you, then find another, but its a good word for me.

I kept writing and I was successful, beyond my wildest dreams successful. I never thought I’d hit #1 on the New York Times List, or be the #1 best selling paperback in the country ever. These are all goals I’ve reached, but never had on my list of goals to reach. My goal for my writing was much more humble. I simply wanted to make enough to support my daughter and myself after my divorce. I’ve done a bit more than just support her and myself, a great deal more. I am blessed, and lucky, but as with most luck it’s because I put the hard work in before my opportunities came. Lucky people are usually prepared people.

All the success, all the books, and my wonderful characters and worlds, filled up part of me, because writing isn’t just a job for me, it’s a calling. Unfortunately, my calling didn’t fill up all the holes, or heal all the wounds. Having a child didn’t fill it up. I love our daughter, and she is great, but it’s not her job to make me feel whole, nor is it my job to make her a whole human being. Parents are supposed to give their children wings, but the kids have to learn how to fly with them. Hard to let go, but necessary.

So what fills up the hole? If love, success, money, art, children, marriage, sex, religion, faith, God, Goddess, if none of that fills that horrible emptiness completely, then what does?

I don’t know if anything does, there, that’s the truth. I wish it wasn’t. I wish I had a magic word, or pill to share with you and we could all be happy and healthy and whole. The only thing I know that helps that black emptiness fill up some is therapy, and facing the issues, the wounds, that dug that piece of my soul out. Therapy is hard, good therapy is very hard, but it’s the only way I’ve found to truly heal and cope, but that alone isn’t enough. For me, I need a strong faith, a personal relationship with Deity every day. Loving relationships, because what one person damages, another can help you heal. Animals, dogs right now, because I find that they are damn near essential to my happiness. Exercise, because it effects my physical health and my mood. For me it takes hard and frequent exercise to get me where my orthopedist says I need to get and stay, but staying out of surgery is worth it. Good nutrition, again effects health and mood. Time management, there is time to do it all, but not if I sit down and watch three hours of television, or more of movies a night. I like TV, love some shows, and love some movies, but I’d rather spend couple time with my husband, or our girlfriend and her husband, or have a good heart to heart talk with our daughter. I’m trying to get outside at least once a day, five days a week, because I feel better when I do. That’s the trick to filling up the void inside, to find what makes you feel better, truly better, which means when you do this whether it’s religion, exercise, dating, marriage, sex, parenting, building model airplanes, sculpting, collecting stamps, or playing the sport of your choice, whatever it is that makes you feel better, also makes your life work better. If what you’re doing dulls the pain, but makes your life worse, then it’s a crutch, maybe even an addiction, seek professional help and cut the destructive shit out.

You know how I said, love outside of yourself won’t fill up that empty space? Well, love inside yourself may. You need to love yourself. I know it’s hard, but its necessary. We have to love ourselves in the end, because if we don’t we continue to look for validation everywhere but inside ourselves, and in the end, we’re all we’ve got. Lovers, husbands, wives, children, bosses, jobs, houses, cars, flowers, pets, everything, comes and goes, but we remain. The face we see everyday in the mirror is our only constant companion. I used to think that was lonely, but I’ve come to understand that it’s not lonely, it’s just hard, but doable. If we’re following the path we’re meant to follow and doing the things we’re supposed to be doing we will find the people that we need and want in our lives. They will come to us, if they do their work, and we will help each other be better. That emptiness inside can fill up, I know, because mine is much smaller than it was, the difference between every ocean on the planet and now just a swimming pool and even that is getting smaller. I am healing. I am walking my path and meeting the people that I’m supposed to meet. I am learning from them, and they from me. We impact each other far more than we know, but as we heal and become more solid, we are less impacted by others, and our influence on them grows. So walk softly as you heal, and understand that others may not be so far down their paths, but walk softly and carry a big stick as Teddy Roosevelt said. Or as my faith would say, “Do no harm, but take no shit.”

If sharing part of my journey helps you, I’m glad. If you read this and are totally puzzled by what I mean, then you didn’t need this message. If you need it, I hope you do understand it, and f not now, then someday. Be well, be safe, be brave, trust yourself, and find people to trust, and be worthy of any trust that is placed in you.

New Year’s Resolutions and Working Happier

You know those New Year’s resolutions that we all make, but never keep? Well, I made one to read some of the books on my to-be-read pile. I started with Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell and enjoyed it. It was thought provoking, though I don’t agree with everything he proposes, it still had a lot of new ideas, new ways of looking at things, and that turned out to be something I needed. I came away with one personal insight that was very valuable to me. I realized that the one positive thing I hadn’t been able to give my daughter was to show her my happiness with my writing, my life’s work. She saw the deadlines, the tours taking me away from her, the research trips that did the same, and I guess I put all my negativity that I wouldn’t allow anywhere else in my life on my work. I didn’t realize I had done it, but I have. Maybe that’s why my very artsy daughter doesn’t want to make a living as an artist of any kind. “It’s too hard, mom,” she says. She’s right. If you don’t want it more than anything else in the world art will eat you alive, and spit you back out. Most of us never make enough money to live well, if at all. Many writers have to keep their day jobs forever, and write on the side. Most actors spend more time waiting tables than being on stage, or in front of a camera. I have worked very hard for my success, and been very lucky that what I want most to write so many people want to read. I’m one of the ones that made it, but for every amazing success like mine, there are hundreds that aren’t so positive.

The next book I picked up was The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, and that was also very well timed, because it got me thinking about happiness. I’d been working on my personal life for over a decade to make it happier. It had led me to leaving my first marriage and finding my husband Jonathon. I realized that one of the things that made my first marriage fail was that I wasn’t really cut out to be monogamous, so from the beginning Jonathon and I were polyamorous. It means to love more, even before we knew that poly was a word and there were other people out there doing it, we dated other people and added them to our lives. Thirteen years together as a couple, or more, and it just gets better. Part of truly being happy for me meant letting go of old ideas of what I thought marriage would be and embracing what worked for us.

Which brings me back to my career, my writing, what was once the passion of my life and had become a job. I’ve worked harder, faster, smarter, but I decided that I would try to work happier. I started to try and figure all this out while I was writing the newest Merry Gentry novel, A Shiver of Light, I gave myself permission to write anything I wanted part of the day, as long as I got my pages on the book done, too. Before this, with rare exceptions, I had forced myself to stay on one project at a time and write until it was complete, but when I was writing two best selling series for two different publishers, the deadlines were crushing. It was one of the things that led me to consolidating my two series under one publishing roof, though ironically the two publishing powerhouses have merged. Allowing myself the new freedom to spend part of the day on other projects didn’t slow me down on writing Merry, but seemed to energize me. It led to two e-specials. Dancing which is a novelette featuring a more happy domestic and relationship side of Anita Blake, my other series character, and tow of her boyfriends, Micah, and Nathaniel, along with a visit to see Detective Zerbrowski and his entire family at home. It was a lot of fun to write and many of you have told me how much you enjoyed reading it, so yay! I also wrote, “Shut Down,” which was an e-special gift to all of you for free while our government was behaving so childishly. I couldn’t make the politicians do their jobs, but I could give you a short story featuring Richard, our handsome, but self-loathing werewolf, and Ulfric (wolf king). Then I started what I thought was a Jason short story, and it got out of hand. It wouldn’t end and I began to fear I had a short novel on my hands. I finally had to stop working on it and let Merry and her world eat everything for awhile. For me, as a writer a book eventually consumes everything. It’s not unusual for me to work eighteen hour days for weeks on end as I finish a novel. I’d love to not work like that, but it’s simply the way my muse and I work best. Every time I try to write a few hours, then quite, and hit it the next day, my productivity grinds to a halt.

I finished the Merry book, and was exhausted, drained, used up, as I usually am at the end of a long novel. This book had been unusually exhausting and emotional for me. It was the first Merry novel in four years, the babies were finally born, and I had to remember some personal sorrows so I could do Merry and her story justice. I went to some pretty dark places to write this book. I cried more than once, and came away feeling like I’d broken my own heart. As you can imagine, it takes a bit to recover from something like that, so I didn’t force myself to write something else right away, as I usual did. I didn’t even make myself finish the Jason piece. I wrote if I was moved to write. I wrote if an idea came to me. I made notes on ideas. I made notes on Anita. Eventually I even made some notes on Merry and her crew. I’m world building at least three brand new worlds, and some day, one of the three will raise it’s hand and be ready to be written and shared with all of you.

I thought I’d be finishing the Jason novelette first, but then two other shorter ideas got my attention and I wrote on them, but . . . they weren’t ready. As my writing group, The Alternate Historians, says, “it wasn’t soup yet”, so I let the stories simmer and didn’t push myself, normally I would have. Then came two weeks of travel that included one of the most fun Geek-loving weddings Jon and I have ever participated in – we got to be part of an arch of light sabers for the Bride and Groom to exit through! Yeah, that kind of wedding! We flew straight from that out of state wedding to Spring Break with Jon’s parents, and our daughter, Trinity.

We left this overly long, overly cold, overly snow-filled winter behind for tropical beaches, Caribbean blue oceans and 80F temperatures. It was glorious. I usually try not to write when I’m on family trips. First, it’s incredibly difficult with so many demands for my attention. Second, because sometimes, I feel punished when I’m writing while everyone else is playing in the sun and surf. It’s like being in a pretty cage. Yeah I can see the sunshine and ocean, but if I can’t touch it, what’s the point? But it had been so many weeks without really writing for me, that I began to search for a place to write.

I was poking at every flat surface that would hold my iPad and full-size keyboard. I put on my new Bose headphones and made notes. But one day, I wrote enough that it felt like writing, not just notes and it was an older idea, but suddenly a new idea had bumped against it, and there was a spark. I wrote until that spark faded, and it was time to have dinner with my family.

I’ve been letting myself write on whatever my Muse and I wanted to work on, and that’s been fun. I’ve had more ideas come to me in the last few months than I’d found in years. I’ve let my Muse and I play, and it’s been glorious, but I need a deadline, a focus. Its been so long since I’ve let my mind wander through the Looking Glass without worrying about where I’m going, or when I’ll get there, that I’d forgotten that deadlines are my friends, not my enemies. They help me concentrate and narrow my vision down to a laser point and create. I had three stories ready to go, but no idea which was cooked enough to be soup. I let myself write on any of the three, and then suddenly one of them took the lead and we were off!

Today, for the first time since I typed, the End, on Shiver of Light, I wrote so long and so hard, that when Jon interrupted me for lunch, because when you eat healthier you really have to eat regularly during the day, I was inpatient, snapping at him. I knew it, I apologized, but I felt like if he didn’t get out of my office and let me finish the scene I was writing I would scream. He kissed me, and left to fetch lunch. He let me know when he got back, but today was his day at gym, not mine, so he had to eat on time, I could fudge it a little. When I was done with the scene, my injured arm hurt like hell. (It’s a permanent injury, more muscle helps which is one of the reasons for my dedication to the gym.) I was dazed and almost stumbled downstairs with the dogs trailing around me. I joined Jon in the other part of the house. We had a few minutes together while I started eating and then he had to go to gym. I put my feet up for a few minutes and cuddled the dogs on the couch and watched CSI. It’s one of my go-to shows when I’m writing well and want to be entertained, but not distracted from my story. I think we got through the first five seasons while I was writing Merry, so today was the beginning of season six. Then I went back to work. It was mostly notes, but I know exactly what happens next in the story. I know which idea I will finish next. I’ve given myself about two weeks to complete the story. I want it done before we get on the next plane for our next trip, which is about two weeks away. (I actually didn’t make that deadline, but finished it on the plane for the trip.)

I told Jon that I knew what I was writing next. He said, “I know.”

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Because this is the first time since you finished Merry that you were frantic to write and shushed me, so I’d leave you alone to write.” He smiled, kissed me, and left me to work.

I love my husband, and part of why loving each other works for us, is that he understood that me practically snarling at him today was a very good sign. He didn’t take it personally, he understood. He married me after I was established as a novelist, so he knew what he was getting into as much as anyone can that marries an artist. We are not always easy to live with, and if you expect us to play by muggle rules then you will be sadly disappointed. But since Jon is no more a muggle than I am, it works for us.

I don’t know if I’ve figured out all I need to work happier, but I’m getting there, and it’s not the view from the top of the mountain you need to love, it’s the climb up, because you can’t stay at the top of the mountain forever. That gets you one goal accomplished. I’ve got a whole mountain range spread out before me, and I want to climb them all.