BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yes… “STAFF” infection, NOT Staph Infection. That was what the monstrous, hyper-infectious, killer strain of “walking death influenza” was dubbed at this years Samhain Florida Pagan Gathering. Primarily, because patient zero infected several members of the festival staff, who then unwittingly shared it with other staff, then attendees, then speakers, etc. I just happened to be one of the lucky masses to be infected with extreme prejudice. Somewhere around late morning on Friday last I started feeling like crap. By that evening, I was pretty much laid up with a fever and hacking cough that was threatening to send one or both of my lungs flying across the room at supersonic speed. Not a good thing.

Even so, a good time was had. I bunked in with Dorothy Morrison and her husband Mark on one side of the cabin, along with my wife (Evil Kat) and my offspring. On the other side of the cabin was my dear friend Kristin Madden and her son Karl, as well as another set of great buds, Z and Hardee. Even with the attack of the “Staff Infection”, we still got to visit and have a great time. I had a chance to visit with another dear friend, Chuck Cook. Unfortunately, his wife and kids weren’t able to make it this go around, but hopefully we will catch up with them in the not too distant future. I also got to visit with, and even square dance with, my old friend Ann Moura. And, of course, I spent some time with my buds John & Brandie (aka THAT Moonfire!) and their crew. To top it off, I got to meet and kibbitz with Kirk White, an author I had heretofore only known via email.

The fest was well attended, as usual- rumor has it they even broke a record. The workshops were great and we all signed tons of books for festivalgoers. Other than the staff infection I only had two regrets – one being that Paul, our beloved guardian and firetender was not present, as he had just had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Fortunately, we received news that he is doing great, healing quicker than expected, and that the tumor turned out to be completely benign! (Yay!!) So, I’m looking forward to seeing him next go around. Just to make things right, however, someone produced a life size cutout picture of Paul’s face, and we all had pictures taken with it in groups, individually, at at various events throughout the fest so that he could be there with us, even if he wasn’t. My other regret would be that I didn’t get to make my annual pilgrimage down to Rowangrove, which is Druydess’s camp. She’s a lovely gal, tremendous hostess, and her whole crew is a blast to hang with. Every year I make sure to stop by for a few drinks and an hour or two of intelligent, witty, innuendo filled banter. Unfortunately, being laid up with the “infection” I was in no condition to drink, I wasn’t particularly witty- nor intelligent- and I would have hated to spread the virus any farther than it had already gone.

So, FPG was a blast, even with the infection and regrets. I do feel it a moral imperative to say the following- Rayne, of guest services was fantastic! She took care of us like you wouldn’t believe, making sure that we had our cabin cooler filled with goodies and ice, extra blankets (yeah, there was actually a cold snap in Florida, can you believe it?), food, etc. She even had her minions cart our cases of books back and forth between the cabin and tables. As far as we were concerned, she was the Guest Services Goddess! And, as wonderful as the rest of the staff was and is, I also must single out my favorite Guardian, Trauma. She is an absolute sweetheart, and she saw to it that I was well taken care of from the medical standpoint. (Of course, prior to becoming infected, she also tagged me with her infamous “Flaming Dr. Pepper”, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…)

Now…On to some other stuff…That being, “Nasty Rumors”…

When filling out my speaker info packet for FPG, as a joke I put a few notes under “special requirements”… The notes were something to the effect that Dorothy Morrison was old and decrepit and would require a wheelchair. I also added that Kristin Madden is a whiny diva who would demand that she get anything Morrison got, and therefore they should have one for her too.

Now…The staff of FPG knows us well, and they knew this was a joke. They posted it on their official website, as a joke. Some of you may even remember Dorothy, Kristin, and me blogging back and forth at one another about this, and generally having a great time with it.

Unfortunately, someone who doesn’t know us read the blurb on the FPG site, and took offense. They felt that Kristin was being seriously disrespected, and were worried that Dorothy was on her deathbed.

So…Let us quell the rumors. Dorothy Morrison is like my big sister. Kristin Madden is like my little sister. Yeah, I’m the middle child…guess that explains it, eh? (Grin)….Either way, we pick back and forth at one another all the time. It is all good natured fun, and it is how we interact. If you see us in person, all together, you will see one hell of a show. And, if I do say so myself, we are pretty damned entertaining– Well, we amuse ourselves, so hey, what more can we ask… Suffice it to say, there was no disrespect toward Kristin “Don’t Call Me Kirsten” Madden, nor is Dorothy “Older Than Dirt” Morrison in ill health. It was just us kids joking around with one another. End of story.

Trust me, if we ever get mad at one another you won’t see us bickering. There will just be three smoking holes left where we each once stood. But, I can pretty much guarantee you that such will never happen, so no worries there.

Okay, I need to go check on Evil Kat since she is now dealing with the Staff Infection. I’ll leave you with a few pictures…

Thought I was kidding about the square dancing, didn’t you?

More to come…

Murv

It came screaming into the world with a -30-, Fin, The End, insert your favorite editorial mark here because some of the symbols don’t seem to want to show up in the blog, tagged on its rear, yesterday afternoon, right about 5:00 PM…

Yeah, that’s right. The latest manuscript is finished, submitted, and all that good stuff. Sent off to “college” with only a virtual suitcase and class schedule (read: date with an editor) as I waved goodbye from behind the keyboard.

One of my friends asked me what it is like to finish a manuscript– Elation, Relief, Joy, Sadness, what? So, I thought I would share the answer here, hence the title of the blog…

Uh-huh…Writing a manuscript for a book, especially one that is contracted and has a deadline, is a lot like giving “intellectual birth.” No, not birthing a really smart kid (although, the Evil One and I managed to do that somehow– Our daughter is brilliant and will probably take over the world by the time she’s thirty, but I’ll brag on her later)… What I mean is, by the time you get to the end of a 100K word manuscript, you are spent. Worn out. Ready to just collapse.

For example, I jump out of bed at 5:15-5:30 every morning. You can almost set your watch by me. Today…Not so much. My feet finally hit the floor around 8:00, and it’s not like I stayed up late celebrating or anything. My celebration took the form of the wife and kid taking me around the corner to the new Mexican place for dinner (so I didn’t have to cook)… That was nice. It was excellent. All was good. But, I went to bed at my regular hour. I was just plain exhausted…

Some may wonder how you can possibly be exhausted by sitting on your ass behind a keyboard and typing for hours on end. Well, I don’t just sit. I get up to go to the bathroom and refill my coffee or tea… (Actually, I do make sure to get activity in, but that’s a different story)…

The real deal is the exhaustion you experience is purely mental fatigue.

(Well, there is the stiffness from sitting in one position, hunching over some research looking up something, the itchy eyes from staring at the screen, the cramps in your hands from typing all day… but this blog is about the mental stuff…)

Remember, when you are writing you are pretty much living with this set of characters. I know that may sound insane, but trust me, that is how it works. You are walking around in a daze for the 4 to 6 months it takes you to tap out the story on your keyboard, and you have a whole host of folks bopping about in your head. Whispering in your ear. Telling you how THEY would do something that you are doing. Letting you know THEY would never eat a Braunschweiger sandwich because it’s yucky… Well, you get the picture.

These imaginary characters become a part of your family, and for a period of time, a good portion of your life. You can’t do anything without thinking, “How would XX respond to this?”… “What would YY do if she was in this situation?”…And, more often than not, they tell you in no uncertain terms. Of course, you are the only one who hears them and that makes you look like you are talking to yourself…So, you try to avoid doing so in public lest the men in white coats come to take you away… The point is, they are with you night and day. You cannot get away from them, and if you try, they chase you down and make your life a nightmare. Why? Because you are supposed to be paying attention to them while they tell their story, and if you ignore them they get pissed.

So, what it comes down to is the feeling when that -30- goes at the end of that last page…

Well, it’s all of them. You run through them just like you would the stages of grief….You feel accomplished, you are elated, you are ecstatic. You are ready for these folks to go back in their box and leave you alone for a while. Then you get worried. Things happened to them in this story. Are they handling it okay? Are they going to make it through without counseling? Are YOU going to make it through without counseling?… Then you are sad…. It’s like houseguests who have been staying with you forever who finally leave. You think you are happy they are gone, then you realize you have grown so accustomed to having them around that you miss them terribly and want them to come back…

So, name an emotion, I’ve probably felt it, or will over the next couple of days… That’s why I warned you in the last blog my brain would be like oatmeal for a while…

It’s a rollercoaster…And, I’m on it right now.

But, you know what? That’s okay… Because, last night I got to sit and have a normal conversation with my wife– That means not once did I stare off into space wondering how Rowan, Felicity, or any of the other characters would respond to the innocuous things being said.

Of course, in a couple of months when I start the next manuscript, I am sure they will be happy to fill me in on what they thought…They always do.

More to come…

Murv