Author: Tracy Abell

It’s All Subjective

/ Tracy Abell

For a long time I mostly resisted watching those “Inside the Episode” segments that seem to be all the rage in cable shows. They come on after the episode to supposedly give you a behind-the-scenes glimpse into that creative world. But one “insider” bit I’d watched had the show’s creator saying stuff about the characters that was so obvious, it felt like talking for the sake of talking. (I’m looking at you, Lena Dunham.)

Zippy and I have recently started watching a show we really like, and thought we’d give the “insider” thing another try. We watched a few of those segments and enjoyed getting the creators’ take on what they were trying to accomplish. However, the last one I watched was especially valuable for me as a writer.

The creators/writers talked about an interaction between two of the characters and said the one character acted selfishly and purposely put down the other character. That wasn’t my take. I’d interpreted the first character as being a bit clueless, but also truly coming from a good place. I’d still liked and rooted for her until I got the insider treatment which has now warped my sense of that character.

My two takeaways:
1) Stop watching “Inside the Episode” segments
2) I can’t control how readers will react to what I’ve written.

There’s intent and then there’s interpretation.
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Friday Five: The Swimming Edition

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

1) I used to swim and I loved to swim and I swam a lot. A mile per session. But then I got tired of smelling like chlorine and I stopped swimming and focused on running. For the record, I also love running. But right now my body isn’t doing as well with the running.

2) For quite some time after I quit swimming, I had dreams of swimming. Strong, efficient strokes and flip turns and the black line on the floor of the pool showing me the way. It made me sad to quit, but I couldn’t take the chlorine. Well, this week I dove back in the pool.
file0003550277033) Wednesday was my first time swimming laps in YEARS and I was so happy to be back that I took off too fast and went into oxygen debt which meant I never quite caught my breath. And so I started to chastise myself for being out of shape and such a mess before remembering that, hey, I’d been away from swimming for a long time and still banged out a pretty fast mile. So there, Nasty Voice.

4) Today I swam again and it was so much easier because I didn’t take off like a crazy woman delirious with happiness about being back in the water. I was still very happy, but I was a smarter happy and kept my breathing regular.

5) Downside? Despite my best efforts in the shower afterward, I’m now getting whiffs of chlorine PLUS it seems that I should’ve taken the time to adjust the goggles I wore because they were definitely too tight and I kinda, sorta gave myself two black eyes.
cat in goggles

There’s Clutter and Then There’s This

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

Earlier this week I took a Decluttering class. It was a two-part class and for the second session we were supposed to bring a cluttered drawer, box, or bin to work on during class. It was so very hard to choose just one clutter-filled receptacle from my home, but I ended up taking a drawer that’d been underneath our air hockey table for the past five (at least) years. I ended up dumping/donating 90% of the clutter, and also found this (click to enlarge):
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I’m not entirely sure what it’s called, but this is a game Wildebeest and Zebu created many years ago. Complete with Maps
Fletcher and Harlan homemade game 011Fletcher and Harlan homemade game 010

Tokens
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Currency
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and Power Cards
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I’m holding onto this game. I know, I know. But would you be able to part with The God of All Ninjas? I thought not.

Bartleby, the Scrivener

/ Tracy Abell

I’m using Scrivener for the YA I’m revising and even with all its bells and whistles, sometimes I feel a bit like Bartleby. Obviously, that’s a stretch since that poor dude had to laboriously hand copy legal documents while I’m using writing software and a printer. Still, it feels like forever that I’ve been hunched over this novel, painstakingly revising each chapter.

The good news: I’m (mostly) enjoying the process and have not yet proclaimed “I would prefer not to.” Also? I haven’t alienated everyone around me and am not sleeping in a doorway.

Around these parts, we call that a WIN.
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Lights! Camera! Reflection!

/ Tracy Abell

My favorite aspects of these holidays are the lights. We don’t have a tree this year (Wildebeest borrowed it for the house he shares with five others) but we do have two strings of lights artistically draped across our mantel. We also have a bunch of lights outside. This year, Zippy and I wrapped our locust tree in lights.
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As you can see by this accidentally reflected photo, I smile every time I look at it.Birds + Christmas lights + smoothie 028

Bathroom Blogging

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

So here’s something from 2014 that I feel good about: I finally went ahead and made some changes to our bathroom. For years I’ve wanted to get rid of the white plastic tub surround that was installed poorly and, therefore, buckled and pulled away from the wall along the top of the tub. It was impossible to keep clean and I couldn’t take baths because it’s difficult to relax when everything at eye level = YUCK. (When showering, I was actually grateful for my poor vision because then I could kinda, sorta pretend the bathroom looked all right.)

I knew I wanted something new but couldn’t decide what that something new would be, and decisions are not my friends. At least, decisions didn’t used to be my friends. We’re still not BFFs, but we’re doing better. Once I put in the call to the general contractor a friend had recommended waaay back in May, I made decisions Bing-Bang-Boom. Tile? Got it. Accent tile? Found it. New vanity top and sink? Check. Paint? Check again. Window treatment? Okay, that took a couple tries but not for lack of decision-making, but because of dimensions. Shower curtain? Done.

My bathroom went from feeling cold and dreary to being one of my favorite places in the house. In fact, I’m sitting on the edge of the tub right now.
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Don’t Let the Door Hit You On the Way Out

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

I tend to withdraw when things get rough, which explains why this has probably been the year I’ve blogged least frequently. 2014 has been a non-stop year of challenges for me and the people closest to me (and a whole lot of people I only know via the news). More than once I’ve threatened to stab 2014 between the eyes. And way more than that, I’ve screamed at 2014 to go fuck itself.

Did 2014 care? Not in the least. Were my threats of violence and profanity healthy responses to a year that closed out by kicking my family squarely in the ‘nads? I’d say that’s an affirmative, but your mileage may vary.

Looking back on the past year, I’m struck by how I kept expecting things to improve. Starting in January with my glute/hip/lower back issues that kept me from running and lifting weights and yoga and hooping and all the other stuff that helps keep me sane, I was positive that in the next week or so I’d regain my physical self and, therefore, also my emotional equilibrium. But it never happened, at least, not 100 percent. However, the shit kept coming and I had to make-do with what my body could handle. And when that wasn’t enough to raise my endorphin levels, my thoughts turned stabby. So maybe that’s why I’m feeling especially worn down right now: in hindsight, that optimism feels so naive and pathetic. I didn’t get all better and it never got easier.

Which is why I’m torn about welcoming a new year. This last one sucked sucked sucked and the next might, too. On the other hand, 2015 is still shiny and full of hope and no one’s had a chance yet to stab it between the eyes. I’d call dibs, but maybe me and mine will catch a break this time around and there won’t be any need.

Happy New Year.
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I Can’t Breathe

/ Tracy Abell

I’m a writer and I’m supposed to be able to express myself.

But for the past two days I’ve struggled to put down words about the stark contrast between my experience as a white female in this society and all the black women who can never, ever take for granted that any of the males in their lives–sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, nephews–will walk back through the door at the end of the day.

I’m heartbroken. For all of us.

En Garde!

/ Tracy Abell

It’s felt like one challenge after another this year, and I’m starting to think I should’ve busted out the protective gear months ago. Something like this or this:

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I like the idea of being able to lunge and parry with something sharp and stabby, but that heavier sword looks pretty good right now, too. Whack.

On the other hand, it’s probably a major hassle to go pee when wearing all that stuff. Maybe I should settle for this in 2015:
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Sunshine + Birds = Improved Outlook

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

It’s been soul-crushingly cold this past week, but today the temperature in the shade is hovering at the freezing mark and is almost tolerable in the sun. My feathered friends have been here throughout the week, eating seeds and drinking from the heated bath. I’m grateful for their company.

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Stay warm, friends!

Self-Preservation 101

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

On this election night, I’m taking steps to avoid a full-on freak-out:

  • I vacuumed up the dog hair, cat hair, geranium petals, and miscellaneous debris because I feel less angst when I’m doing something, even if that something is a mundane housekeeping chore.
  • Then I listened to The Clash’s Combat Rock at full volume while lifting weights.
    Combat Rock album cover“Know Your Rights” felt particularly timely and I pumped that iron with a fierce determination.

 

 

 

  • I just remembered the photos I took this morning, of the tenacious cottonwood leaves clinging to the tops of the trees down the hill from me. I’ve been watching and admiring them for the past week and I’m posting them here as a reminder that all the political ignorance and ugly out there right now is no match for nature’s beauty. So take that, climate-change denying authoritarian soulless candidate who might be my next “voice” in the Senate!
    Lone cottonwood leaves 001
  • Beer.
  • Netflix.
  • Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

(And you know what else? In the spirit of self-preservation I’m also gonna quit wasting my time trying to get that effing bullet point to line up where it should line up!)

What I Saw While Running to Nowhere

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

When I woke up this morning it was cold and wet, the streets covered in an icy, slushy mess. My plan had been to run outside, but the moisture plus 40 degree temperature convinced me to have a “boring” run on the treadmill.

HA! It was anything but boring. And no, I didn’t fall overboard or go flying off the back.

My treadmill looks out onto my backyard that is planted with native shrubs and covered in mulch. There are bird feeders and bath, squirrel nut munch, and an ear of corn that yesterday I harvested from the volunteer corn stalk growing against the house. In the 35 minutes I was on the treadmill, going nowhere fast(ish), I saw:

  • a flock of European Starlings swooping up and away from the wild plum bush growing behind the fence, only to return and line up on the fence in front of me
  • oodles of House Finches exploring the leaves and mulch
  • a Goldfinch moving from sunflower to sunflower, in search of seeds
  • a Black-billed Magpie alighting on the fence and allowing me two whole seconds to admire its gorgeous plumage
  • Mourning Doves and Eurasian-collared Doves, wings spread wide as they descended in the yard
  • a whole slew of Dark-eyed Juncos acting like bullies on a playground
  • a male Northern Flicker that popped up from behind the fence with his dapper ‘tude
  • a squirrel and a Western Scrub Jay working to extract kernels from the corn cob (although not at the same time)

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have seen a fraction of this activity on the street, so I wanted to document this treadmill workout for later in the season when I’m longing to be outside. I need to remember that, sometimes, running in place is where it’s at.

View from my treadmill.

View from my treadmill.

Revision = To See Again

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

John Irving wrote in the opening to Trying to Save Piggy Sneed,
“Half my life is an act of revision.”

Ain’t that the truth.

I share Mr. Irving’s love of revision. I enjoy blue ink on paper, deleting the fat and plumping up the skinny parts. I love drilling down to find the essence of what I want to convey.

Right now I’m revising the first several chapters of my YA. Again. I recently received stellar editorial input on my opening pages that has allowed a minor miracle: I am reading the pages with new eyes. I’ve already worked and worked and worked some more on those chapters, yet this editor’s input changed my perception of what was there on the page. It’s as if her reaction to what she read is forcing me to “defend” each and every word, every motivation. I’m no longer reading the pages with the mindset of someone who knows the entire story and all the backstory, but as a brand new reader! I didn’t think it was possible to read stuff I’d already read gazillions of times with fresh eyes, but it is. It really is.

Wow. Amazing stuff. Yet I’m alternating between thinking, “This is so cool that I have this new heightened awareness!” and “What is wrong with me that it’s taken so long to achieve this awareness that any writer worth her laser printer should already have?!”

So, in an effort to be kinder to myself, I’m focusing on this quote from Ernest Hemingway:
“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.”

Take that, nasty voice! I will prevail.
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Seeing Things and Doing Things

/ Tracy Abell

Saw this beauty sunning itself on deck rail and captured with telephoto lens:
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The maple leaves are turning and I leaned over deck rail for a close-up look:
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The Christmas cactus sits next to the window so I zoomed in on its delicate beauty:
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Haven’t only been looking at lovely stuff, but am keeping my oath and making great progress on the final scenes of my YA. The End is in sight!

You Heard It Here First

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

I’ve been creeping toward The End on this YA project for FOREVER. (Okay, it obviously hasn’t been forever because that would indicate a major hiccup in the time-space continuum. Not to mention that “forever” would mean I’d have even more wrinkles than I already have.) So let’s just say it feels like a mighty long time I’ve been working on this book, yo.

One of the reasons I’ve been taking it slow is that I don’t like to write myself into a ditch. I’ve learned that if I allow the words to gush willy-effin’-nilly, I often live to regret that output because it can take an awful long time to get the literary wheels back on the road. However, it just occurred to me that because I am only scenes away from The End, that I can’t possibly do great damage. Even if I write myself in a wrong direction, it won’t be any big woop. I KNOW the big picture and I KNOW how this story ends and I KNOW what needs to be written. If something doesn’t feel right, I’ll delete. No big woop.

So here’s my public announcement: I am going to finish those scenes this week!

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Eyes Forward, Fully Engaged

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

Sometimes as an act of self-preservation I have to turn my back on all the craziness in the world and focus solely on my needs. I block out most everything going on around me in order to nourish my body and spirit.
Assorted birds 021And then when I’m ready to re-enter the fray, I try to hold onto this kind of mindset:

Colin Wright quoteOkay, going forth now . . .

Sucks Too Much to Give It a Name

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

This has been a bad day for a variety of reasons I don’t need to list here. However, I wanted to document it because it’s important to acknowledge the less-than-stellar days. Less-than-stellar days can, by comparison, make the coming days seem almost shiny.

So in order to document this day, I needed a representational image so I went to MorgueFile.com where I typed CRAP into the search box (and yes, I realize I was opening the door to all sorts of eww). This is what I got:
file1291238007940Hmm. Almost looks edible, kinda like gummy dice.

So then I typed in SUCK (again, very much aware of eww potential) and found this:
KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERAMan, all that cute has drained my energy for this documentation shite. Let the record show it’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Three Blossoms, Three Perspectives

/ Tracy Abell

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.”                                   ~ Henry Ward Beecher

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“The age I’m at now, you go from being a young girl to suddenly you blossom into a woman. You ripen, you know? And then you start to rot.”  ~ Liv Tyler

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“People think that their world will get smaller as they get older. My experience is just the opposite. Your senses become more acute. You start to blossom.”                                                                                                           ~Yoko Ono

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Friday Five: The Next Chapter

/ Tracy Abell

(1) Zippy and Zebu were at the tail-ends of their colds when I got sick two days before we had to start our drive to Washington. Of course. We left on Thursday morning with a big box of ultra-soft tissue and the rental car trunk loaded with Zebu’s stuff. We’d chosen a chevy impala trunkChevy Impala for its impressive trunk capacity and ended up getting one equipped with satellite radio. We drove many of our 1600 miles laughing at comedy routines and only once did I fear for our safety when Lewis Black had Zebu and me (behind the wheel) in tears. I highly recommend comedy for road trips.

 

(2) Zippy and I are now officially empty nesters (if you discount the two dogs and two cats), and I’m handling the transition pretty well. We arrived back home late Sunday night and while I did wash my face and brush my teeth on Monday, I spent the day in my jammies on the couch, watching flawless movie stillmovies (Party Girl with Parker Posey and Flawless with Philip Seymour Hoffman, pictured here with Robert DeNiro), some television (The Mindy Project and Californication), and staring into space. I’ve since roused myself, put on real clothes, and rejoined society.

(3) Now that we have Zebu settled at college, I can no longer put off finishing my YA. I thought my slow progress was solely due to feelings of trepidation regarding what happens when a manuscript is polished Daggerand ready to go (something that feels like the equivalent of putting my heart on a platter so that others can stab it over and over again), but a couple days ago I had an epiphany about my slow progress. I haven’t just been procrastinating in an act of self-preservation, but have been writing slowly because I was headed in the wrong direction. I thought I knew the ending, but I did not. Rather, I knew the final scene but had a few key details wrong. I believe my middle-office mind knew that and was patiently waiting for me to wake up to the truth of the story.

(4) I applied to and was accepted into the Rutgers One-On-One Plus Conference held next month, which is another motivator for finishing my manuscript. Yikes.

(5)  I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing, but as a result of all the preparations and then the emotional aftermath of getting Zebu off to school, I’ve largely ignored the fear-mongering and bloodlust dominating the airwaves. May I just say, for the record, that I am so very tired of the U.S. government thinking it can end fundamentalist ideology by bombing it out of existence? It hasn’t worked before and it won’t work now. Also? Not only is it stupid, this latest bombing is illegal. But, hey, we’re Team USA! However, . . .

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