This is coming a little early, but I wanted to write an appreciation post for my best friend and one of my greatest supporters, my boyfriend. Javier and I have been together for ten years. Yes, ten years as of June 20th. We met through a mutual friend when we were thirteen. We both went to the same middle school, and after speaking on instant messenger day in and day out for probably six months, we started going out. Being an only child without a hoard of friends, he was probably the first person I ever really opened up to. 
He’s the quiet sort. If he doesn’t know you, he tends to be reserved, but once he’s comfortable, he never shuts up. Of the two of us, he’s the social one, the one who enjoys a night out but is still content to sit and watch Adventure Time with me and the dogs. What I love about him is his unwavering support. No matter what event I’m doing or where I want to drag him, he’s there. If I need a second set of hands or someone to vent with, he’s there. If I need someone to bounce ideas off of, he’s ready to listen even if he has no idea what I’m talking about (which happens quite often). 
Both of us are creative people. Javier is an artist while I’m a writer. If you’ve ever been to his Facebook page, he’s a cosplayer, which means he creates costumes after video game or anime characters and wears them to conventions. Recently, he’s won a few convention contests, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. No one I know works as hard on their projects. We act as a second set of eyes for the other, figuring out if a piece is out of scale or if a character’s motives make sense. Even if he sometimes gets down about his work and believes he sucks, I know he is amazing and will go far in the future. It’s the little things that make me love him. The way he is willing me makes me a cup of coffee just the way I like it whenever we’re home together or how he let’s me hug him like a koala when he gets home from work. Other times he drives me crazy. He leaves messes around, forgets to take the dogs out, and likes to hug me after working on his projects and thus coats me in black dremel dust, but he’s my favorite distraction. I know he’d do anything and go anywhere for me, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Here’s to ten more.
Category: Personal Life
The Steampunk World’s Fair
On Friday, I attended the Steampunk World’s Fair for the first time and gave my first reading outside of the university. The SPWF was a blast. It was like stepping into an alternate reality. There were fantastic costumes everywhere, leather, brocade, rainbows, tulle. Women in corsets, men in waistcoats and gauntlets. The gamete ran from highly realistic to fantastical, and I don’t think there was a bad one in the bunch. Along with the fair-goers, there were also bands, panels (I attended a fantastic one about Edgar Allan Poe, which makes me really want to go to the Poe Museum), and shops. My boyfriend and I stopped at the haberdashery, and I finally got a pith helmet. What I find funny is that I always wanted a white pith helmet, and it turns out that the white ones are from the Anglo-Zulu War, which is mentioned in The Earl of Brass.
I ended up not getting too decked out this year. I went as a hybrid between modern and Victorian instead of all steampunk because, as the Awkward Authoress, I was afraid being in a full, rather uncomfortable costume would set my anxiety off. It’s amazing how clothing choice can aggravate anxiety. Instead I wore my corset, black pants, and a biker jacket. Probably a bit more cyberpunk than steampunk, but I was comfortable in my own skin and actually enjoyed myself.
My reading itself went a little less smoothly. I ended up being scheduled at midnight as one of the last events of the night, and by then, most of the fair-goers had cleared out apart from the night-owls and revelers. It made me wonder if I screwed up AM/PM on my sign-up papers. Either way, I wasn’t expecting a crowd since I’m a brand new author with a small following. I knew three people were coming for sure, but I was quite pleased to see a few more come. The weirdest part was that my anxiety really wasn’t too bad. I made myself a little outline of what I wanted to cover before I gave my reading, and while I didn’t have a podium, my audience was very attentive and forgiving of the late hour. Then, it got weird.
What I can only describe as a New Orleans style band marched past my door followed by a parade of revelers from the courtyard. I could feel myself beginning to sputter. The band was so loud that I had to stop and wait for them to pass and ended up losing my place. Of course my stress level jumped, and I was embarrassed that I had to stop my entire program for a few minutes. Then, I said to myself, “Would it be better to pretend the band wasn’t there and shout over them?” No, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. As my aunt said when I told her, this would only happen to me. If something weird is going to happen, it’s probably to me, and a brass band marching through during my reading was not something I anticipated. Oh well.
The best part of the night was that a reader vacationing from Canada came to the fair and attended my reading. I knew she was coming since we message back and forth on Facebook, and she brought me a bag of goodies from Canada. All of the nights woes and anxieties melted away. It didn’t matter that the band played over me because someone actually: A) cared enough to come B) wanted to hear me read C) brought me a present when she obviously did not have to. I’m eternally grateful to her because she was able to squelch all of my fears and regrets and ended my night on a high note. Thank you so much, Lois!
Either way, if you ever want to do a reading or present somewhere, take a chance. Even if the night went a bit awry, it was worth it to get the experience under my belt.
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Don’t Be Cruel to Each Other
I can’t say it enough. Don’t be cruel to each other. It doesn’t matter who, whether they’re male, female, transgender, gay, straight, black, white.
Over the last few years, we’ve heard stories of young people killing themselves after being bullied. At first, it seemed to cause a sensation, but now, we let out a collective “Awe, what a shame” and go on with life. It shouldn’t be that way.
We should be asking ourselves why this is happening and try to stop it. We can try to instill in the next generation that no matter race or sexuality, we are all human and should be treated as such, but we need to start with ourselves.
It makes me sick to think that someone is sitting in their room or their car or their school bathroom crying at this moment because of something miserable someone said to them that isn’t even true. You’re fat. You’re worthless. You’re stupid. You’re retarded. You’re too short. You’re too tall. You should kill yourself. No one should hear these things, and there is no need for anyone to ever say them.
Words are the most powerful force in the universe. They can raise and lower mountains, build worlds and crush spirits. We must choose our words carefully because their impact is irreparable. Can you think of something someone said to you that hurt you deeply? Was it years ago? Yet, you still remember it. You’ve felt the effect of it yourself, so now imagine someone saying that to you every day. How would you feel to have your self-worth stripped away constantly? It doesn’t matter how many times someone tells you you’re amazing or pretty or smart because you still remember that awful thing someone said to you, and that will always cling to your mind.
So how do we begin with ourselves?
Watch your words. Some of us have a quicker filter than others and can stop ourselves in time from saying something unkind, but the first step to strengthening that filter is a bit of foresight. Think about what you’re going to say before you say it, and does it need to be said? Not to make you feel better but to help the other person. Will it hurt them? Would it hurt if someone said it to you? It’s such a simple thing, to think of how we would be affected, but it’s shocking how often we don’t do it.
If you see someone else abusing another person verbally, step in and say something. Nip it in the bud. Don’t be abusive back, but stand-up for the other person. Tell them it isn’t right to treat someone that way and why. Try to defuse the situation and give the other person comfort and support. Ask them if they’re all right. What would make you feel better? The best outcome is that the bully/abuser will back off and hopefully think twice about doing it again, and the other person will remember that someone stood-up for them and not that their worth was stripped away once again.
You never know how powerful your words could be. You could destroy or save someone, but which would you choose? I should hope you would want to stand-up for someone because if you were in that situation, wouldn’t you want someone to help you? It’s such a small thing.
Errant Plots and Acccepted Proposals
The other day I received an email from the director of my graduate program that my thesis proposal was approved! Not only that, but she wanted the file to use as an example of what a proper MFA thesis proposal should look like. I beamed with pride for most of the day, and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. In the fall, I will officially begin my thesis and finish up with my MFA in May of 2016, which really means I’ll be going into book three full force as soon as possible.
Part of the reason I hoped my proposal would pass in one shot is that I am trying very hard to separate myself from what I wrote in it about book three. For the professors to approve your proposal, you need to show that you have your shit together and are really prepared to take on a big project and actually finish it, so you have to provide a lot of info about your work even if you really haven’t thought it through yet. It’s all subject to change (thank god), but I had to do quite a bit of cooking up of ideas in a brief amount of time. Now, my very anal analytical side wants to take all of my half-assed ideas from the proposal and check them off, but I know it won’t turn out well. The ideas I wrote down aren’t forming the story I would like to read.
Because of this, I know I need to take a step back and re-evaluate my ideas and where the story is going. It’s been on the backburner for about three weeks while I was working on classwork, but now that the semester is wrapping up, I can finally go back to it. It feels great to be able to finally go back to my writing after a self-imposed hiatus, yet it’s daunting knowing that I need to figure this out before moving forward.
My writing style is somewhere between plotting and flying by the seat of my pants. I don’t like to plot the whole thing out, but I need to know where I’m going before I begin writing a chapter. This system gives me structure but allows for fluidity and for my characters to stretch their legs a bit.
At the moment, I feel a bit lost with The Earl and the Artificer. I have a few chapters done, which are shaping up to be a good foundation, but it feels like an insurmountable task to figure out where I’m going. The good thing is, I say this every time I begin working on a new book and by 10,000 words in, I’m usually fairly on my feet. I don’t think the anxiety goes away until I’m two chapters away from finishing it.
I’m also back to reading historical fiction again, which always seems to help. I’ll be outlining and diagramming and creating monstrosities that look more like summoning circles than outlines, but now that my proposal has been accepted and my final paper is well under way, I should be able to finally get into book three. I plan to keep everyone posted on the writing process and what I discover along the way with research or writing or myself, but first and foremost, I must write.
The Anxieties of the Awkward Authoress
Fears…
Most of us probably have a list of fears that we keep tucked close, hidden where they cannot be seen, where others cannot seek to infiltrate and destroy us. I’m pretty open with a lot of my fears. In the past I have wondered if there was anyone else who felt the same way I did, so by sharing my experiences, I hope I can spare someone that feeling. This weekend, I confronted one of my main fears– social anxiety.
I feel I am getting better about dealing with a lot of people in one area. It’s odd, I can go around New York City, moving shoulder to shoulder with the crowd, but when the crowd is vying for my attention and wants to talk (and go off script), it’s hard to deal with. At my university, I worked two events, one Saturday and one Sunday. Sunday’s event was an open-house, which I’ve done several times already, but Saturday was my first writer’s conference. Luckily, I was only manning the sign-in desk along with the other graduate assistant. Unfortunately, I forgot the signs I printed earlier in the week, which threw me off, but thank god, there was a script I repeated about eighty times that day.
For the rest of the day, it was smooth sailing, but when I got home, I threw myself down and took a two and a half hour nap to recharge. I should really say surrendered to the nap. I don’t think I could have stopped it. That’s what happens quite often with social anxiety. Dealing with other people is stressful. They’re unpredictable, sometimes rude, pushy. More than often, they’re none of the aforementioned things, but one never knows when they’ll surprise you.
In May, I’m doing a reading and small seminar at the Steampunk World’s Fair, and of course, I’m worried about it. I worry about not making a good impression or that I’ll be dreadfully boring. Will I stutter or will they hate my books? If more than a handful of people show up, will I freak out? Of course I will. I’ll bring water and coffee and possibly a bag to hyperventilate into, but I won’t stop myself from doing my reading. Probably a dozen times I’ve asked myself why I signed-up to do a reading. I’m a nobody author with a tiny following. I know at least two people will show up, and if more than that comes, I’ll be eternally grateful. As a writer, my biggest fear is that they’ll hate my books. As a person, my biggest fear is I’ll make an ass of myself. Honestly, they aren’t too far from each other.
No matter how many times I read aloud or do group events, the fear is still there. I’m hoping that practicing every few days for about three weeks leading up to the reading will help to lessen my fears. Pretending not to be an anxiety-ridden introvert takes a lot of energy, and I’m beginning to wonder how long I’ll sleep after the Steampunk World’s Fair.
On the topic of the Steampunk World’s Fair, I’m supposed to have a short story in a you pay what you want bundle along with several other artists and musicians. When I get more information about the bundle or what day I’ll be giving my reading, I will let you know, but for now, if you want to get a ticket, which is good for Friday to Sunday, please go here.
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Mr. Wilde and the Awkward Authoress
As I have said in the past, I feel a kinship with Oscar Wilde. This connection probably stems from my love of Victorian literature and what I have learned about him over time. The more I learn, the more I feel drawn to him, as a person and as a writer. In a previous post I mentioned how much I love the movie Julie and Julia, and in the same way Julie feels a connection to Julia Child, I feel connected to Oscar Wilde despite living over a century apart. When I think of him, I picture a large man with a quiet yet large presence that isn’t tied to his foppish ensemble. Along with, that, I picture champagne, fine dinners, a restaurant gilded and gleaming with a haze of cigar and cigarette smoke somewhere posh. He was a presence, a man known as much for his wit and intellect as for his talent. That level of sociability is something I aspire to, but in my introverted, anxiety-ridden bubble, I feel that it is unattainable. Then, I saw this:
Continue reading “Mr. Wilde and the Awkward Authoress”
Why I Love Julie and Julia
There is something that resonates with me when I watch Julie and Julia. I cannot count how many times I have watched this movie. Probably thirty times since it came out.
If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about Julia Child’s journey from housewife in France to chef while Julie Powell, a blogger, goes through a personal journey to find herself as she spends a year going through Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
Both Julie and Julia are told that what they are doing is pointless and a waste of time because they will never be like -insert professional-. Luckily, both, especially Julia Child, have this kick-ass attitude. Tell me I can’t do it and watch me do it and succeed. Continue reading “Why I Love Julie and Julia”
Me, My Self, and I
What am I doing today? Well, part of it will be taken up by going to Panera for an early birthday meal for my boyfriend (happy almost 24th birthday to him) and the rest will be devoted to me and my writing.
I am embracing being selfish and self-involved and all of those horrible “self” words people hurl at you when they think you should be doing something else. Continue reading “Me, My Self, and I”
Spring Semester, Sales, and Stories
I have realized that when the semester begins again, I am horrible about updating my blog (I’m going to try to work on that this time). It has been a crazy week but a good one.
This week was the beginning of the spring semester at my university. At the beginning of each semester I am a bundle of nerves complete with tension headaches and the urge to vomit. Last semester began with me coming home my second day there and crying at my kitchen table for feeling like an inadequate fraud after I didn’t know who Kerouac and Carver were. Continue reading “Spring Semester, Sales, and Stories”
Migraines and Deadlines
As the saying goes, “Even the best laid plans go awry.”
Earlier in the week, I decided to set up the Kindle pre-order of The Winter Garden (IMD #2), and of course, I made a schedule for what I need to accomplish each day for the next two weeks. Each day, I planned to edit about 5 chapters while finishing up the ending. Luckily, I built in quite a bit of padding and I figure I will be able to get it done by March 31st (technically the 21st because that is when Amazon needs the final file), but I am sick. Continue reading “Migraines and Deadlines”
Kara Jorgensen 