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November 24th, 2012 AUTHORS, BOOKS, Colorado, fiction, Human Nature, Kate Genet, Kelli Jae Baeli, PSYCHOLOGY, RELATIONSHIPS, Uncategorized, WRITING No Comments »

Prequels, Sequels, & Spinoffs

Syzygy. Amazingly, the only English word with three Y’s also happens to describe a rare astronomical event involving three heavenly bodies. A syzygy is the alignment of three celestial bodies in a straight line…

On December 3, 2012, Saturn, Venus & Mercury will align. On that same night, 3 women align to see that justice is done.

Ponzi Bonnet thought she had found the perfect husband. A psychologist could certainly understand her damage. But her suspicion of infidelity turns out to be something far worse. Far more sinister. And he had to be stopped.

This new book I’m working on–and almost finished with–is altogether different from any of my others. For one, it’s darker. I usually like to write “dramedy”– an equal mixture of drama and comedy. And I lean toward romantic – suspense – adventure -style plots. The plot in Syzygy is adventuresome, but perhaps that’s where the similarity ends. It deals with some darker subjects. Some disturbing places in the human psyche. I’m not sure of it…I haven’t even let Kate read any of it. She will be acting as my first Beta reader, because I want an impression based on the entire book, without any foreknowledge of content. (Just like most readers get to approach a book). But this has also made it more challenging, because I can’t discuss it with her to help me work things out–to be fair, or to perhaps torture me, she is also keeping mum on her current book (Irrevocable). I will be Beta reader on that one too.

So here’s what happened….I had been working on the 3rd in my AKA Investigations series and I was having trouble with it. Not surprising, after having so much trouble in the last couple of years with the writing…huge changes, huge challenges, and so much had been happening in my life to suck the muse right out of my head…(any of you who read my blog regularly are familiar with what I’m referring to). So I continued to struggle with this one…and then I realized what the problem was. Oddly, I was having trouble getting my MAIN characters in the book after the halfway point. Not a good sign. One of the subplots had started growing and I found that my main characters were being left out in favor of a couple of minor characters. So I thought, well maybe there’s another book here…maybe I’m trying to write two books. So I snatched out the plotline and characters from that portion and put it in a separate file and began to work on it–feeling like I was sort of “cheating” on my other characters by doing so. But it was pushing me to be written. Those characters were being insistent. They had a story to tell and they wanted me to tell it.

So. I was surprised about this new book. It wasn’t even on the docket.

SIDEBAR. I have been trying for years now to get all the other books written that are waiting in line. Some half-done, some just ideas. Like Quintessence, Somewhere Else, Curse of Madagascar, Another Justice, The Girls in the Band, and newer ones like, Hanging the Moon [with Kate Genet], Behind the Left: Authoring the Apocalypse, and a sequel to Resurrection Sticks –and those are just the fiction ones

This book, Syzygy, is also a concept-novel. A concept I came up with–not sure if anyone else ever came up with it too, but for me at least, it’s a new idea…it’s what I might call a spinoff-prequel. The new book sprang from the events and secondary characters of the original one. I started thinking about how interesting it would be to know more about those characters–like, what was happening in THEIR lives, that was just outside the purview of the plot in the book I was working on? What might that scene be like if it was written from the point of view of that other character? So then, an entirely new story evolved, but it was based on the original story in the AKA book. Only, it focused on those secondary characters, making them main characters, and then the main characters from the AKA book became the secondary characters in the new book. So here, I have a timeline of events, and in Syzygy, I’m telling the story of Ponzi Bonnet, Kenda Harper, Anna Dew, Garrison Bishop and Payne Hollister. And in AKA, I’m telling the story during the same timeline but through the characters of Jobeth, Phoebe, Izzy and Ginger. It almost means I need to write both of these books and release them at the same time, but that might be too maddening. So I think I will finish and release Syzygy first, since its timeline might be a little earlier, by about a week or two, than the AKA book. It would also give away less than the AKA book would, if I did that one first. I don’t want to have one book serving as a SPOILER for the other.

I feel like I’m rambling. I’m on first cup of coffee…NOTE TO SELF. Don’t ramble. anyway…

It’s a different sort of challenge, as it’s almost like writing a series, but slightly different…I have to think about what I write in Syzygy affecting what I’ll be writing in the 3rd AKA book. I have to make sure I don’t contradict things. Like I can’t have two different things happening to a character at the same time

(or can I?….. STOP IT.)

All of this has me thinking that there are all these other stories that can stem from stories I’ve written. The other perspectives. The other characters who play a minor role, but have an entire world of their own going on during those events. It’s also a way to create a thread of interest in readership–those who enjoy my books will find alternate stories that are peripheral to the ones they’ve already read. I find the whole concept fascinating. I hope a reader would, too. I have recently been concerned about my literary diversification–I do myself no favors by gaining a reader who then reads a certain genre of mine and realizes there aren’t any more of those yet, but that I jumped over and wrote nonfiction, or in some other genre…. (That’s another blog I wrote half of, but haven’t posted yet).

Jeez. I’m scattered.

Did I mention we’re moving 2 hours away in a week?

Yeah. got that nonfiction stuff to deal with too.

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November 10th, 2012 AUTHORS, BOOKS, fiction, Kelli Jae Baeli, WRITING No Comments »

Stranger Fiction, Reviews & Truthiness

Historically, there has been a notable chasm between the author’s craft and the reading public’s knowledge of what that craft includes.  And until recently, we never heard much from authors on a personal level about what they thought and felt, what their creative process was, what their methodology entailed. Nor could readers communicate with their favorite authors in any meaningful way.

Now, with the advent of Indie authoring and publishing, writers and readers may actually converse with each other. It might spoil the mystique of being a writer– that romantic idea of an angst-ridden wordsmith closed up in a candlelit room with coffee (or whiskey), manipulating a magical, torturous process that at some point produced viola!–a book. But I feel it’s a positive change. For the record, I love coffee, enjoy a glass of wine, am quite fond of candles, and do sometimes want to pull my hair out during the writing process. But I genuinely enjoy the open discussion about my books with readers who contact me via email, or during a bookclub meeting.

Unless an author is afflicted with narcissism, she will always carry a degree of insecurity about her writing. A book is, after all, a birthing of a literary child, and we feel that when we put it out into the world, we want it to do well, and never want anyone to speak an ill word against it.

I have been fortunate to have four and five star reviews most of the time, but the more I write, the more readers I get, the more I will come across the occasional comment or review which isn’t quite as complimentary. I’ve been lucky in that regard, as well, since the few negative comments I have received are within a context of the reader giving the book high marks overall.

I communicated recently with a reader who liked my book very much, but had a few points that bothered her. These complaints were, shall we say, not rooted in fact. I wrote back to her and explained in detail those things that bothered her, and I won’t include that exact text here, because it has far too many spoilers in it. But in general, I will mention a few points that readers have brought up.

One reader said of Book 2 in the AKA Investigation series, Also Known as DNA, “credit for the author for allowing the protaganist [sic] to get the snot kicked out of her on a few occasions and to make mistakes which gives her a more realistic feel.”

And then another who said, “skilled people, especially those 4 should not have been portrayed as that stupid and helpless.”

Opposite opinions about the same thing.

First, I have NEVER portrayed any of my characters as stupid or helpless, unless I was portraying them that way on purpose because they actually were stupid and helpless in the pejorative sense. My protagonists were only portrayed that way if they were stupid and helpless in the universal, unavoidable sense. I’ve known some truly intelligent people who did some patently stupid things–myself included. And I’ve known some really competent people who found themselves in a position of helplessness–myself included. There are myriad reasons why this will happen, no matter how learned, how wise, how strong, or how discerning you might be. Circumstances and emotions and outside forces can conspire to render you incapable–if only for a time–of doing anything to make it better. And these same elements can also prevent you from making the right choice. We all make mistakes, and I will not give my characters some heroic white-washing, when that’s not an accurate portrayal of how human beings are. Please and thank you. But in the context of fiction, obstacles allow the character to evolve. We learn about ourselves and others through adversity; and a good writer will do this with characters by showing how they might face these obstacles and conquer them.

Then there was another reader who really enjoyed the book, but said she was annoyed by a few plot issues. Like “There was no explanation to why [sic] the bike was run off the road by the person that [sic] did it. they wouldn’t have known each other at that point.”

There WAS an explanation, but it was in the subtext, and then actually explained in the dialogue between characters later. Once the full story came out, it was clear that what the main characters knew at first, was not what the villains knew. The antagonists had been involved the whole time and operating just out of the purview of the protagonists. When it finally came to light what had REALLY been happening, it was a matter of putting two and two together. The antagonists were working their plan around the protagonists long before the protagonists knew the antagonists even existed. So it might SEEM that the antagonists /protagonists couldn’t have “known” but that was intentional-viewpoint, meant to align the reader with the main characters, and NOT the villains. I wanted the reader to know only what the primary characters knew, so that when the truth was revealed, she would be just as surprised as those characters. It’s simply a literary device, nothing more.

This same reader also mentioned “the timeline for the day of the seminar doesn’t add up. too many things happened simultaneously to have all happened within the same day by [sic] the same people.”

I had to tell this reader, point by point, what happened in that day, to show her that it did, indeed, fit into the timeframe. I work everything out on a linear time chart and am very careful to make sure everything is possible, down to knowing how long it takes to do a particular thing, what time of day it is, and how long it takes a character to get from point A to Point B. It’s what I call Novel Logistics. This, then, was a perception on the part of the reader which was not accurate. It seemed as if that much couldn’t happen, but it’s also an intentional element of PACING. If you want the pacing to be fast, there has to be a lot happening in a short amount of time.

But the point here is, while I have made (and will continue to make) mistakes (and corrected the ones I’ve found or others have pointed out later), I care a great deal about my credibility. So it’s a bit aggravating for a writer to see that a reader will criticize something based on an impression that is rooted in their misunderstanding of what is happening, and how, and when. But there’s little an author can do about the ability of a reader to catch nuances and subtext, and even clear explanations that might come later.

Another issue from the above reader was “the confrontation with the enemy. the chasing, captures and recaptures and mountains, etc… was frustrating.” –this, when all other readers who commented, noted how much delicious tension and suspense this activity created for them. Like this reader, who wrote, “So many authors build up tension in their novels only to resolve everything in a matter of 15 pages. This is so frustrating and just plain lazy in my opinion. The last 15% of [Also Known as DNA] is wrought with tension and I was surprised and captivated the whole time” and another who said, “Nail-biting action and heart-stopping tension take the reader on a roller-coaster ride through the pages, piling one catastrophe on top of another and testing the characters to the limit. I wasn’t sure they’d all make it out alive in this one, but it sure had me turning the pages to find out.”

So–it’s all very subjective, isn’t it?

My partner Kate astutely pointed out, “This is why you shouldn’t read reviews.” I’m not certain she meant you in the universal sense or you in the sense of ME, personally, but probably good advice, overall. Be that as it may, reviews are a way for me to see what’s working in my writing, and what’s not, regardless of how many readers might also not catch the subtext, or might not enjoy being pulled through too many challenges with the characters, or might not have an accurate assessment of a timeline.

One reader said that the beginning of Armchair Detective had implausible parts in the plot regarding how Jobeth was hired as an unlicensed P.I., but what that reader didn’t know was that it was all true, based on my own personal history. My experience as an amateur sleuth some years ago, was what inspired the story in the first place. Everything I write is either from personal experience or that of another’s, or if it’s completely fabricated, I consult with authorities on the matter to ensure that it is plausible and credible. This is why when I write about medical things, I speak to nurses and doctors, and when I write of legal things I talk to attorneys, and when I write of police matters, I speak to police officers. There is no greater resource for a character’s job, than those who do the job every day.

Ultimately, what all this tells me is:

First, an opinion isn’t always a fact.
Second, you can’t please everyone.
And third, and most importantly, (and with the most paradoxical irony), this concept: I may have failed to do the best job on a book, if I didn’t make the fiction seem like truth, even if the truth seemed like fiction.

Truth is, as the adage goes, stranger than fiction, and thus, when it appears, it is perceived as lacking credibility, even though FICTION is, by definition, NOT TRUE. So there will always be readers who lament the lack of credibility in some aspect of fiction, when many times the depiction is accurate, it just doesn’t SEEM accurate. So therefore, we, as fiction writers have to be careful to be credible and realistic, while lying our collective asses off. Are you following this?

(Where is my medication?)

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September 22nd, 2012 AUTHORS, creativity, Kelli Jae Baeli, PHILOSOPHY, PSYCHOLOGY, WRITING No Comments »

Bloody Hands

Every novelist should sit down at the keyboard with blood on their hands.

To know what it feels like to have been wronged and to have wronged. To be guilty and innocent.

A novelist must have truly lived her life–sucked the marrow, tended the wounds, lashed out in fear and anger, in order to write a story that speaks authentically at deeper levels; that explores human nature and the human condition in all its beauty and ugliness. A novelist must have experienced life–that visceral knowledge that comes only from having felt the range of emotions, discovered the myriad permutations of challenge and question and suffering and joy. There are indeed degrees of depth in a story and in the characters that populate its pages. We can write for entertainment, and leave it at that, or we can dig deeper. I enjoy the writing most when it marries the elements of humor and drama. When I can show characters facing challenges, while also interacting in sometimes absurd or humorous ways. I love witty repartee as much as heartfelt confessions or moments of miscalculation. You can only impart this protean story if you have been in the trenches and know what it really feels like to get your hands dirty, your brain animated, your heart broken.

How would it even be possible, I wonder, for a novelist to be absent these characteristics? Perhaps she would have to be born in a remote mountain cabin and her mother die when she was young, and then continue to live there, avoiding the natural experience that just comes from living, and interacting with the world and the other people in it…but then, this isolated being would have experienced loneliness and loss, at least. So it is, as always, a question of degrees. Creative people, et al, by their nature feel things to a more intense degree than others. Not by virtue of what they do, but by who they are, which led them to express those things in what they do. You can learn vicariously through the stories of others, through television and literature, but this is no substitute for the experiences themselves.

While I can lament the sometimes painful history of my life, I know that I would not be nearly so well-rounded, would not have much wisdom to share, and would not be able to solve as many problems so effectively, nor communicate myself with any clarity, had I not journeyed through those challenges that so pained me, yet created a stronger individual.

This all begins, of course, with childhood, and the parenting we did (or did not) receive. I was not physically abused, but I was emotionally abused and some psychologists say (one actually said to me, specifically) that often emotional abuse is more difficult. If my parents had hit me (other than the slaps I received from my mother) then I would at least know they knew I existed. But I had an overweening sense that I was invisible. My parents ignored me for the most part. They were apathetic. Their sin was a sin of omission. I was always trying to exist. Trying to be noticed and acknowledged in some positive way, and given some indication that I mattered.

But this, I recognize as the reason for my attachment to my identity markers…the activities, thoughts and expressions that make me who I am. I am defined by those things I do, those things I create…I feel invisible without those identity markers. And this brings me back full circle to the writing. I am grateful that I have something to say when I sit down to write. I am chagrined that those words stem so often from loss and disappointment, and so rarely, from a place of hope and happiness. I am a writer. It’s as much a part of me as my skin. I can say that, even amid this writer’s block I have struggled with for the last few years. I know the delicate balance of identity was overturned, and it will take righting it again completely before I can return to my usual voluminous production. This is where discipline comes in. And I have dedicated myself, now, to sitting here and writing something every day. Anything. Even if it isn’t what I would prefer, nor quite yet what it was before.

But I know that because I do have blood on my hands, I am able to, with some measure of authority, say that I know what I write is real. Because it was hard won, and there were casualties.

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June 14th, 2012 AUTHORS, Book Reviews, fiction, Kate Genet, Kelli Jae Baeli, NEW ZEALAND, PSYCHOLOGY, RELATIONSHIPS, WRITING No Comments »

Building Character- A Review of new novel by Kate Genet

Writing teachers will tell you that a novel should begin in medias res–in the middle of the action. While I do believe this is preferable, if the story allows it, I don’t believe it should be chiseled in stone–good writers know enough about the craft, to understand when the rules are meant to be broken. I’ve never been a big fan of formula fiction, unless an author can take that formula and do something new with it. And while I wouldn’t consider Building Character “formula fiction” per se, there are will be some formulas in every book; I am interested in the conventions that stray from it, as this is a good thing. Genet knows how to do that, and she does with her own personal flair and expertise.

In regard to the caveat of in medias res in Building Character, the whole story is in the middle of the action. From the first two paragraphs, I could tell that something delicious was building. And I appreciated the author for giving me a firm grasp on the main character, so that it would make perfect sense and still be delightful. The discerning reader will be able to sense that Genet is illuminating Fen Marshall in a particular way, and for a particular purpose, and the more we learn about Fen’s idiosyncrasies, the more intriguing and exciting the ensuing plot promises to be.

In a world permeated with the sensibility of instant gratification, and literary caveats that tell writers they must begin a book by grabbing the readers by the throat–I suspect because of the aforementioned instant gratification propensity–I must warn the reader that Building Character does not begin with a car chase or an arrow in the heart, nor any explosions, earthquakes or tsunamis, nor a character dangling from the ledge of a 10 story structure by her fingertips. It begins with a character. And it’s crucial to understand who she is in order to appreciate what happens, and how she evolves. Yet in doing this character development, Genet does not bore us with play-by-play or tedious details, but only with details that develop character, and move the story toward that first tipping point, and then pulls us along to each ensuing tipping point, until the end of every page is an irresistible invitation to continue to the page beyond.

The title of this novel is key to the many levels that exist inside the story. Genet builds a character for the reader, expertly, and with finesse. The main character, as an author herself, builds a character, who becomes a unique and intriguing antagonist. And the main character also builds her own character, as she maneuvers the obstacles presented by this vixen-cum-succubus, Ruby, which Genet (masquerading as Fen) brings to light.

While I could not identify personally with Fen on all levels, since she is an odd character with certain quirks, who does not enjoy the company of other people, nor seek love, I immediately loved her. I could relate to the often taxing nature of other people, and how they can suck the energy out of you. I also understood the need for time and space to create, and the almost holy nature of my home as sanctuary. I am not cut from the same cloth as Fen Marshall, but the cloth shares many of the same colors. I understood her, and was at once intrigued, enamored and entertained by her peculiarities and defenses.

The characters of Fen, Ruby, and Marissa were brilliant, and masterful manifestations of the darker elements of the human psyche, though the antagonists Ruby and Marissa were disturbing in two completely different ways. I have known quite a few people like Marissa, and like Ruby as well, except that I might not have seen the Rubys in this world as clearly as Genet sketches her, as I run screaming in the other direction before becoming entrenched with them. It’s this entrenchment on the part of Fen that gets her in so much trouble. By the time she realizes the untapped desires and blind spots that Ruby ignites, she has been sucked to the event horizon of that black hole, and is inches away from spiraling into the abyss of intrigue, lust, and the epiphany of awakened erotic hunger. This can be a force both ominous and all-encompassing.

Genet is well aware of her target audience–mostly lesbians and open-minded others who delight in a thought-provoking and entertaining read. I found Marissa’s behavior in the book very credible, and I immediately recognized her from my own personal experience with obsessive women. I can say that her abnormal ideation was spot-on. This assessment is supported by any psychologist you might care to contact, as well. If a reader has limited experience and knowledge of this psychological aspect of the subject matter, they might be surprised that these things really do happen (not manifesting a person out of sheer force of will, of course, but of how the human mind operates). The female psyche has its own nature, and I appreciated the subtle shading and color contrasts of the character-portraits Genet was painting, as well as the more specific subset of love and passion between two women, and the obsessional aspects inherent in each realm. This book is written by a highly intelligent author who deals with some profound subjects, and thus, to truly appreciate it on all its myriad levels, you must be able to appreciate nuance and understand a bit about human nature and psychology.

The classic conflicts in literature, which we all learn in school, is a character against an antagonist, a character against society, a character against nature, and a character against herself. Building Character embodies all of these conflicts, and is expertly rendered by Genet, woven into the story in such a seamless way, that (as an author myself) I was envious of her skill. Add the elements of the supernatural, psychological suspense, and of course the not-so-common lesbian erotica, well-wrought, and you have a book that can be enjoyed by those from many walks of life. For it speaks to us on our most fundamental level; reminds us that what we create does have a life of its own, and we should be mindful of the power it can have, the havoc it can wreak, and the lesson it can teach us about hubris and the corrupting nature of need, desire and loneliness. You can fall in love with the wrong person just like you can NOT fall in love with the right one. And it is in this precarious balance that Genet reveals the meat of the story. In good fiction, there must be conflict, an attempt to ease the conflict, or exacerbation of conflict, and resolution of conflict. Genet orchestrates these elements adroitly.

With titillating and absolutely carnal and scorching sexual encounters fraught with deeper meaning, clean, picturesque prose and realistic, interesting dialogue, along with clever and exciting plotlines, Building Character was like great food to me. Delicious, perfect texture and taste, pleasing presentation, and in the end, so satisfying that it takes a place in your mind as one of your all-time favorite meals. I encourage everyone who appreciates quality writing to imbibe this wonderful book like the literary white chocolate that it is.

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May 8th, 2012 challenge, Highly Sensitive Person, NEW ZEALAND, RELATIONSHIPS No Comments »

Purging: I am, She is

Purging. Good for the soul they say. Also good for the tight-lipped, the guilty, and the occasional cyst. Between hours-per-day of yahoo video chatting with my betrothed, I am mostly engaged in the act of purging. As in domestic purging. This isn’t just a Spring Cleaning kind of purge either. This is the mother of all purges. The one that includes selling, tossing, or giving away 90% of everything I own. It’s necessary, it seems, when moving to another country, and not being someone with a bank account under the name Trump. It really is simpler to just get rid of it all and buy it back later once I’m there.

But this plan requires a type of letting-go that is unusual for most people in this Material World Madonna so engagingly sang about.

There’s a list psychologists use to gauge the most stressful life events. The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale. In any given year of my adult life, I have experienced 70 to 80% of those, it seems. Some of those which apply now, are:

  • abandonment of family;
  • heartbreak/loss of a relationship and my two band projects I spent 7 years building;
  • loss of social groups;
  • loss of the friends associated with that social group (there is something so devastating about going from a stage, where you are applauded and admired, to just abject isolation and no friends, especially when it includes getting your heart broken by the first woman you were ever in love with).
  • Then after years of isolation, relocation to another state, alone;
  •  money issues all along the way, before and after;
  • then the death of a family member, but being ostracized from that family and not told, nor included in obituary as surviving family member;
  • then to moving again to start another relationship which turned into a nightmare of epic proportions, and also ended in abuse and the arrest of the partner, leading to another move by myself under great duress;
  • then being stressed by the environment I had to live in;
  • then heartbreak again with next relationship;
  • betrayal and abandonment by my best friend of 11 years, and simultaneously two other friends.
  •  And then there was another move, where I hoped to begin again, paying less rent, so I could have money to rebuild the life I wanted, convinced that I would spend my life alone and should try to make peace with that.

But I was circling the drain. I knew that I would never be happy without a partner–the RIGHT partner. I just don’t thrive alone. So I cried everyday. I lost interest in even the things that were my greatest joys–creating. Writing, especially. I was fighting a deep depression that I couldn’t seem to shake.

 And then there was HER.

We connected through our writing–that passion that means the most to both of us. Soon, this connection deepened and expanded. It was like looking at a trench, closing your eyes for a moment and opening them to a view of the Grand Canyon.

 We finish each others’ sentences. We share the same unique quirks. We share the same vocation, similar challenges, and kindred hearts. What i feel for her is an entirely new species of love, and the compatibility is flirting with 100%. I never thought I would meet anyone who matched every criteria I had for the perfect mate (aside from those things I had before listed as incompatible, but which have somehow turned into blessings, too). I know how deep my feelings go and how real they are, just by what I’m willing to do to be with her. What I’m willing to sacrifice, what I’m willing to risk–and without a single second of hesitation or doubt. This from someone who has had so many betrayals. Many of them freshly inflicted.

But she has renewed my belief that there are still good people in the world–though I know they exist, they have seldom crossed my path. And I know she is a good person because she is so much like me and I know I’m a good person. She is all those better things usually found only in increments in other people, and yet they are abundant in her. She laughs easily, perseveres through challenges; she has sacrificed her own needs and comforts for the needs and comforts of those she loves. I admire her parenting skills, and the way she has managed, alone, to raise five beautiful, well-adjusted and intelligent children. I admire how she accepts them and loves them for who they are, and not from some misguided attempt to fit them into boxes of her own devising. I am endeared by the fun-loving banter she shares with them, and the way I can feel their respect and love for her; her patience and kindness and good-humor, even throughout great challenge and sometimes insufferable pain.

I cherish her compassion, her honesty, her beautiful soul; I adore her humor and her laughter; I applaud her intelligence. I admire her ability to create beautiful, compelling characters and stories that say something real and meaningful amid the hordes of tripe in our literary world.  I am thrilled that she shares my love of simple pleasures, and my need for serenity and creativity. And I am most taken with the way she genuinely understands, accepts, and appreciates me for all I am. It feels like she is the one I’ve been searching for my whole life, and she shares that sentiment.

Thus, I will be moving to another country and giving up all my comfort zones, almost all my belongings, including my pets and my car, for all the right reasons, and willingly, to be with someone I believe with all my heart is my soulmate.

But it is still stressful. I have redeveloped a condition called globus hystericus. Modern terminology globus pharyngis[glō′bus \-fə-ˈrin-jəs-\]

SIDEBAR: [It occurs to me that globus hystericus sounds like a condition wherein someone is afraid to travel to the other side of the world.....]

 globus hystericus Etymology: L, small ball; Gk, hystera, womb.

a transitory sensation of a lump in the throat that cannot be swallowed or coughed up, often accompanying emotional conflict or acute anxiety. The condition is thought to be caused by a functional disturbance of the ninth cranial nerve and spasm of the inferior constrictor muscle that encircles the lower part of the throat. The physical examination result tends to be normal, as does the result of barium esophagraphy.

For a long time, I thought there really was something sticking in my throat, but when I think back to the times I had it, I was under a high amount of stress, and my Xanax and a warm compress on it, usually made it go away.

And of course, moving to another country to start a whole new life from scratch with a new beloved…that can be stressful, no matter how joyful the ultimate proposition feels. The stress makes sense. So many changes. The experience of deciding what is most important to me…what I must have to function in a healthy way, and what is just extra stuff I’ve collected that really holds no intrinsic value except that value I chose to give it…the act of going through all my papers and notebooks and files and scrapbooks and photo albums–all filled with remnants of those other things in my life–and being able to throw so much of it away.

Afterward, it creeps up in my consciousness, and becomes surreal. Like I will wake up and say, Wow, I had this really weird dream that I was throwing everything away….And at the same time, it is all so profoundly cathartic, and liberating, and yet still very stressful on some visceral level. I find myself walking around the apartment with a knot in my stomach, and my hands shaking, and feeling like I am just at the edge of panic. But not the panic born of doubt about the decision. Panic stemming from a lifetime of habits put in place to create my own solace–the solace I could not have with previous partnerships, and so was forced to create in perhaps an artificial way, just to get through the days. I am afraid, I am joyous. I am anxious, I am excited. But never do I second-guess the necessity of going to be with her. Of us building a life together in a country I’ve never been to. A country where I will be the foreigner. I will be the one with the accent and the strange customs.

 Another country. When I think of all the adjustments I will have to make, especially as a small percentage of the population who share a unique brain architecture of Sensory Processing Sensitivity…it is daunting. But she is also one of those people, and so I know she will always understand me as only those who share your nature can. She will understand that I will not have all the familiar and comforting things I’m used to (or as many conveniences). I will be, literally, a stranger in a strange land. I will not be able to drive for a while because they all drive on the other (laughingly, read as “wrong”) side of the road and the car steering wheels are on the other side too. I’m afraid that each time I go around a corner on the left side of the road, I’ll freak out, waiting for that head-on collision. I will be giving up one of those crucial things that gives me personal autonomy. And yet, I know she would take me anywhere I wish to go. And some places I don’t even know I wish to go.

Yet on a psychological level, it’s a cognitive dissonance wrought from a lifetime of doing things one way. The thing that makes it worth it–the only thing–is that I have 100% faith in my partner and the great potential for happiness we have together. This is like no other relationship I’ve ever had. And I trust with every cell in my body, and every synaptic connection, that it will be the last one, the lasting one, the right one. The one all humans yearn for. Nothing material, no preconceived idea, no habit sprung from a previous life will keep me from pursuing it.

Whether that makes me brave and crazy–or both–I accept the label. Life is short, pleasures and good fortune, and especially love, are rare commodities, precious cargo. I am leaping off this precipice and knitting my parachute on the way down. Because I know that she is there to catch me, and nothing will compare to the comfort of her arms, the radiance of her smile, the sweetness of her heart merged with mine.

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May 7th, 2012 WRITING No Comments »

Are Writers Born or Made?

My partner Kate Genet and I were discussing this topic, and as is my tendency, I wallow in the gray areas. A simple answer is never forthcoming and requires examination. So if I were to answer the question of whether writers are born or made, I’d have to say Both.

And then I would have to wade through the morass of That-Depends toward the destination of Picker of Nits. The first question I would throw back is “What do you mean by writer?” One could be a writer, in that she actually WRITES. But it doesn’t automatically ensure the writing is any good. So the implication I will assume here, (for the sake of brevity, and to spare you of another tangent) is that the question is really “Are Good writers born or made?” Assuming that, then there must be, I think, a seed of inherent talent planted in that literary ground, and then the individual must make the decision of whether or not to nurture it into sprouting.

But, alas, there will always be those people who fancy themselves writers, and who produce works they feel are examples of their status as “writer” only to reveal themselves as charlatans. And worse still, charlatans who are unaware of their error in thinking. Some neophyte writers use the garden of words to create a crop of plastic vegetation and expect us to oooo and ahhh over how pretty it is, how delicious it tastes, or how vibrant the flowering bud, when ultimately, the work is artificial, and that’s all there is to it.

Examples I can recall from my editing days include a truck driver who was writing a series about  (surprise!) a truck driver who kept coming across terrible accidents, which included burning flesh and screams of agony, and him leaping out to save them, because he was that kind of guy, and more burning flesh or flesh burning and screams of pain and agony and rescue and burning and then another accident, on down the road for which he was also the hero….I place emphasis on burning because he used that word 27 times on one page. (If he had not become a writer, perhaps he would have gone into arson). Tedious? Yes. And also implausible, and melodramatic. The only way to save that story was to make the main character the one who sabotaged vehicles so that he could appear later to save everyone. This trucker-writer also used details about the trucker-character being a Desert Storm veteran, and described events the character experienced as a soldier which could not have taken place in that particular war, but could have in say, the Vietnam war, but then, that would make the character too old to be sexy, so, he made it Desert storm instead. I won’t belabor the details. But when I pointed out his errors, he became defensive and thought everything he wrote was just fine, even though his chapters were each one page long, and he had planned to do a series of six books, just like that, and was trying to query publishers before he’d even written the damn thing.

Then there was the other aspiring novelist who was an engineer and quite notably a certified genius. I thought I would enjoy editing his work. Turns out even geniuses can write like 12 year old boys. He also didn’t seem aware of how incredibly puerile and dull his story was. He would write page after page of dialogue that was banal, idiotic, went nowhere, and did nothing to move the story or develop character; and it was never clear who was speaking, because there were few attributions and all his characters sounded alike. And none of his characters spoke like people really speak. And the story was about the Loch Ness monster, I think. Anyway. Those are the two things that spring to mind when I think of people who identify themselves as good writers, but are sadly mistaken.

And among these types of writers will be those who accept constructive criticism with aplomb, and endeavor to learn what they need to learn to make themselves good writers, and those who erect a barricade built of ego and delusion, while continuing to cling to the fiction that their work is above reproach. The latter of these two is doomed to failure, the former, fraught with possibility.

There have been writers, also, who were born with a unique talent for telling stories on the page, but their lives, their decisions, their personalities, even, did not allow them to pursue it, and this talent was then lost to us. This is a sad proposition for me. A tragedy of epic proportions, since I feel the sharing of inspiration and knowledge and ideas are paramount to the survival and thriving of our species, and indeed an integral part of why we all exist as sentient beings.

Therefore, good writers are born, and then made…provided they recognize that about themselves and then do something about it.

—————–

for Kate’s blog about this subject, go here

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May 6th, 2012 Kate Genet, Kelli Jae Baeli, WRITING No Comments »

Writing Tips: To Know, To Begin, To Feel

As a writer, I am always in training. Like any vocation, it can be mastered to some degree if the individual cares enough about it. One thing I have noticed along the way, is that I have used certain phrases and words which do not serve the story in quality, plot or character development, or even in achieving clean, sharp examples of good craft.

Most of these examples refer to rough drafts, as I have been writing for 25 years, and cannot be excused for doing this in a final version, but still, it comes up in the editing process and can be applied to any writer who tackles the job of conscientious revision.

One such phrase I have had to be careful to revise, is “She knew.” (Since most of my characters are female). For example, I might write “She knew it was going to be a long day.” The cleaner way of making this point would be to write, “It was going to be a long day.” This distinction reveals itself in my dislike for simile and preference for metaphor.

“The day had felt like a time warp.”

Becomes

 ”The day was a time warp.”

But then, I would have to clarify whether it was a faster or slower time warp. In any case, metaphor has more muscle than simile.

Another phrase I have to be careful of using is “I began” or “She began”–

she began to move toward the door…..

My partner, author Kate Genet, says of this phrase,  “I never began to do anything in my life. I’m either doing it or not doing it.” It does result in a sensation of author-fudging. We should commit to what we’re trying to say, rather than dance around it.

Same goes for instances of “She felt.” Kate reads something like, “She felt the emotion of fear welling up inside her” and her face pinches up and she complains, why not just say “She was afraid”? Better yet, she suggests (and rightly so) how about the old caveat of showing and not telling? Indicate the emotion by some physical reaction. An example from her book Orange Moon would be

“Goosebumps spread over my skin despite the sun.”

 The reader, Kate points out, would recognize the situation as one that causes fear, and “how does your body react when you’re fearful? Goosebumps, legs weak, dizzy, etc.” She adds, “You don’t need to overdo that, because the reader will understand” what the proper reaction would be.

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April 20th, 2012 BOOKS, Kate Genet, NEW ZEALAND, RELATIONSHIPS, WRITING No Comments »

Miles to Go, but Loving the Journey

I just never know what project is going to suck me in and go somewhere. I have a whole stack of writing projects that are still awaiting my attention and I think getting them done will require the use of cloning technology–for myself. I find that the business aspects of being an Indie author is so time-consuming, it has cut way back on the time i have to actually write. I’m trying to get to a point where I’ve updated all information on my books, got them all into final draft and listed on Amazon and Smashwords and elsewhere, and then maybe i can just LEAVE THEM ALONE for once. Hoping that. Hoping.

Woman of my dreams.

And now, there is this recent move to a new place, meeting the woman of my dreams, and the impending visit to New Zealand, followed by an actual relocation there at the end of the year–possibly to reside for several years.

I try not to think far ahead enough to consider what will go in storage and what i will take with me to another country.

Everything seems to be happening at once, and I’m just trying to keep up. But I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and that is due solely to my darling Kate, who has inspired me, eliminated my creative/writing blockages, and brought hope and love and laughter back into my life. She’s everything I had ever dared hope for, and MORE. It doesn’t hurt that she’s also drop dead gorgeous and I’m wildly attracted to her!

As for my own writing endeavors, though I’ve been getting some whining about where the 3rd in the AKA Investigations series is, currently, I have been sucked in by my story, Resurrection Sticks. It was supposed to be only a short story, based on a weird dream I had. But then as I worked on it, I could see there was more there. Likely, it will be a novella. Kate has been cracking the whip for me to continue it, since she likes it so much. It is a bit of a departure for me. Call it speculative scifi.

And I’ve been cracking the whip on Kate’s new book she’s almost finished writing…(if you can call whining “Where’s the next chapter?” cracking the whip).

Building Character is already a brilliant piece of work and I can’t wait for her to finish. Her writing just keeps getting better and better. I’m so proud of her. I mean what an intriguing concept. Here’s the blurb:

Fen Marshal believes in living her life exactly as she pleases. She’s a writer and a womanizer who has her fun and walks away before anyone has a chance to want more from her. It’s not part of her plan to fall victim to obsessive lust, and as for love, well that just never enters the equation.

 

But Ruby is the woman is the woman of Fen’s dreams – literally. Fen finds herself attracted and obsessed – besotted – with a particularly delicious character from one of her own noir fiction novels.

 

It’s an obsession that brings Ruby to life – somehow, who cares how? Fen doesn’t. Fen just wants to love this creature she’s manifested through the pure strength of her imagination.

 

There’s only one problem. Ruby is not a nice character. Yes, she’s beautiful. But she’s also ruthless, possesses no heart or soul and doesn’t bleed.

 

She may just be the worst mistake Fen’s ever made.

 

How delicious is that? I’m so jealous I didn’t think of it myself.

After she gets that one done, we will have to start the marketing and publishing process on it…(and Resurrection Sticks will probably be done then, too) but we can also get back to the co-authoring of our book Hanging the Moon. Very excited about that project. I have about 100 pages and the general plot on it, and when she jumps in, we should be able to get it completed within two months.

So…lots to do, lots to think about and even more to enjoy. Finally, I feel my life is moving exactly in the direction I have always wanted it to go. And I can’t wait to write the next 26 books! Especially now that ‘ll have my writer-wife next to me, doing the same thing! It’s just a fantasy made real for any writer.

As Frost said, miles to go before I sleep… but it makes a huge difference when you’re loving the journey.

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February 29th, 2012 RELATIONSHIPS 6 Comments »

Fish Should Learn to Walk

I think I’ve moved past my most recent dark night of the soul. This time it took about 7 weeks.

Had a couple of things go my way, though, (finding a new apartment to move to, which I love), and an online relationship deepening into intriguing and exciting possibilities….possibilities that become pissabilities…As is the trend with my life, I don’t get anything good without an addendum of aggravation or disappointment. Some reminder that no, fortune does not often smile on me and the Luck Fairies either have a millennium-old vendetta against my soul, have no GPS, or are somewhat retarded.

I have found some hope and solace and titillation from a wonderful woman. Yes, she’s online. And yes, she’s very far away, but I’m just trying to be a little open to pissabilities becoming possibilities, since she seems such a good match and I am wildly attracted to her. She is intelligent, witty, sensitive, absolutely stunning, also a very voluminous and gifted writer, has a sultry, calming voice, and foreign accent ( I heard it in a podcast where she talked about and read an excerpt from one of her books)… And she has used that delicious voice to say all the right things to me. MMmmm. Hard to resist that tempting package. It’s like The Official Bait for Jae Baeli.

It is now getting to that frustration-stage, though, which is normally avoided by actually going on a date or two. We are, by wretched geography, prevented from doing that. In one of our Facebook/text conversations, we said,

JAE: dammit. damn the geography..damn the oceans
we’d be married by now if you lived here. lol

HER: yeah. who the fuck needs oceans anyway? fish should learn to walk.

JAE: LOL. i just spewed my water

We should just look at it like a courtship phase. But it’s hard to court a woman when i can’t touch her. I guess I’ll have to use my other skills.

Dammit.

So we’ll continue to get to know one another, continue our writing project we’ve begun together, and just see what happens by August or so, when we’ll actually have the money saved for that horrendously expensive round-trip flight from where she is to where I am. Then we’ll see how we are with each other in the flesh. (I will forgo the obligatory sexual joke here).

I can say I don’t do long distance relationships. But it’s wise to never say never, because the Universe has a way of teaching you little lessons. Like, when I said that, I meant women from another state. IN THIS COUNTRY. And then I meet one in another country. Now I’d absolutely adore only having to drive four or eight hours to see her. Or 12.

Nothing is ever black and white, is it? I’ve said many times I make my camp in the grey areas.

Hopefully those grey areas will have color soon. Sort of like the color in What Dreams May Come. Ablaze with life not normally seen.

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February 3rd, 2012 creativity, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, RELATIONSHIPS, WRITING No Comments »

Nietzsche, Relationships & the Creative Abyss

One of the more useful lessons I’ve learned in my life is that we often have habits about how we deal with things, based on a set of information that may not be applicable anymore.

This is why I have to do revisions. I have to re-vision something—look at it again—in order to discover whether or not the method I’m using still applies. Life is about change, and sometimes things change just enough, so that what you have always done is no longer a solution to the new situations and conditions that you are now experiencing.

I might be squishing around in the mud of a prime example, right now.

I didn’t think anyone or anything could ever steal my muse. I even have mantras and mottos based on this well-tested truth. I am “used by the muse” I say. Or “I don’t suffer from writers block, it suffers from me.” Yet, somehow I have been unable to write creatively—meaning novel writing—for a year, now.

Unheard of. Disturbing. Unacceptable. It’s quite analogous to losing the use of one arm for me.

The only clue to this burgeoning mystery, is that it coincided with the previous relationship that ended badly, (to be guilty of under-statement). I spent 9 months in a situation that tested my resistance to stress in the most unimaginable ways. Being an HSP, my brain architecture is predicated on Sensory Processing Sensitivity, and that means that I am hyper-aware of stimuli. In my environment and in my head. I see, hear, feel, taste and smell everything. It’s easy to become overwhelmed when you’re this way, and I have to say that situation was fraught with every type of challenge in every type of manifestation. I am a little amazed, frankly, that I didn’t lose my mind completely. So why wouldn’t I carry the residual effects of an experience like that? Though I often put too much credence into my own coping skills, it would be remiss of me not to recognize that I—even I—can come eye to eye with the beast of my undoing.

One result of that domestic milieu was the loss of my own individuality. I became only the sycophant for my partner’s needs and dramas, and lost touch with the importance of my own identity, my own desires and sustenance, emotionally, psychologically and physically. And this resulted in having the creative juice sucked out of me, for the duration of that relationship. I can only surmise that the effects have been more lasting than I anticipated they ever could be. And I was a willing subjugate to some degree, simply because I walked into that house of horrors under my own volition.

Why? I suspect it was because I was fearful. Fearful of being alone, fearful or growing old without a partner, fearful that I was such an oddball that should I find someone who wanted to share a life with me, I ought to dash inside before they changed their mind and closed the door in my face. What sort of absurd insecurity was that?

Nietzche said, “The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”

So I drew a line in the sand, and when that line was crossed, I had enough self-respect left to open that door and walk away. I soothed and reassured myself by the idea that once I was free of this creativity-killing nemesis, I would again regain my individual identity, land on the path of my usual prolific literary self, and crank out another three books in no time at all. But in the year hence, that hasn’t happened, and now I must seriously investigate the reasons for this.

I know my writer’s block is not the usual variety. I have been writing voluminously for 25 years, with no indication of it ceasing without a brain injury or getting hit by a bus. Or getting hit by a bus which results in brain injury. So, there must be some ditch in my psyche that I must figure out a way to get over or around. Perhaps I should look into that ditch and see what’s there, but Nietzsche also warned us that if you stare into the abyss it also stares back into you. Depending on which translation you use, that quote from Beyond Good and Evil, in context, is “He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.”(trans., Helen Zimmern).

To me, this means that close proximity to a monster, (or monstrous behavior) might mean taking a piece of that monster with you when the struggle is over. I’m not being facetious when I say that I fought with several monsters at once in that last battle. And I suppose I ran the risk of becoming exposed to the contagion of their damage, simply by virtue of sharing space and energy with them. I would like to think the armor of my ethics and the cloak of my goodness was not tainted by this viral venom—that I had, at some point, developed the antibodies to deal with any infections arising from close quarters with the duly infected.

But who knows? Perhaps I overestimated myself. Perhaps the toxins got inside me and are now feasting on the cells of creativity that used to swirl around blithely unfettered for so long. Are they swirling anymore? Or are they coagulated into clumps of diseased apathy?

What is this subjective infection, and how do I eradicate it from my afflicted creative cells?

All I can do is what I have always done. Read. About creativity, and stress and individuality, and commentary from the masters who so eloquently inform our existence. Write. About all of the above. Keep priming the pump, talking to friends and others about it, and just continuing to trudge forward. Even if it is only an essay about not being able to write. The act of putting my fingers to the keys might remind some synaptic connection to start firing again.

Again, Nietzsche said, “What does not kill me makes me stronger.” Unless it instead snaps my spine. Then it makes me a paraplegic.

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January 22nd, 2012 challenge, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, PSYCHOLOGY, RELATIONSHIPS, Sensory Processing Sensitivity 1 Comment »

The Fourth Betrayal

NOTE: So, in my seeking help when i needed it, for my recent betrayals and abandonments, the counselor i went to see called the next day to inform me she couldn’t see me anymore and for a really stupid reason. I tried to reason with her on the phone, but she had to stand by what she felt was her principals, but which was only LOFTY IDEAS getting in the way of her ability to give the actual care she had sworn to as a medical professional. Finally frustrated beyond words and feeling even worse, i hung up on her. The next day, i got this mail. My answer follows below.

 

Jan 20, 2012

Therapy@[Name Withheld].com

Dear Jae,
Since our telephone discussion did not go entirely well yesterday, I thought I would try to reach out to you via email. I was impressed with your level of honesty, as well as with your convictions about protecting yourself. As I mentioned, I fully understand where these fears emanate from and want to validate them as real and persistent concerns (for us both). On the other hand, as a therapist, and human being who has your best interest at heart, I would be remiss in minimizing the clear and present dangers of having weapons in your home, particularly when you are trying to sort through past and present trauma that exacerbates your hypersensitivity challenges. The boundaries and conditions that I have set in order to work with you are not to disarm or harm you, but are to perhaps protect you.
During our initial assessment, it was clear to me that you are ready for change, and that you have the internal and external resources to continue that process. I wish you ongoing success in all of your endeavors, especially the ones that keep you in touch with your passion (writing), and in touch with other writers. I believe you have a special gift.
I wish the best for you Jae, and sincerely hope that your tireless efforts to find a therapist suited to your needs end in success. The Maria Droste Counseling Center might be able to help you in your search (303) 756-9052.
Kind regards,
[VW]

 

Jan 20, 2012

FROM: jaebaeli

TO: [VW]

VW-

Strange. I just sat down to write to you, as well. Thank you for being the sort of person who follows up. That part is much appreciated.

Now, to clarify, I hung up on you because you had planted your feet and there seemed to be no reason to belabor a point you were incapable of exploring, even when I was willing to compromise. And in my emotional state, I was afraid to let the resulting impact of that escalate. It was best to “walk away.” But I couldn’t do that, because it was a phone call, so hanging up was my way of simply walking away. But I also realized you did not/do not know me, and so I decided I should explain myself in the best way I know how (writing) so that this chapter can have some closure. I don’t like leaving things undone.

Let me just say that I appreciate your stated reasons for the ultimatums you gave me, however, I cannot appreciate, nor accept the underlying truth that keeps those ultimatums from being thoroughly-reasoned-out conclusions. Disjunctive reasoning is a valuable skill that has saved me on many occasions, and I only wish you had been able to employ it as well. I will tell you exactly WHY your conclusions are ultimately not applicable:

a)   I have had guns all my life. I grew up having them as a child, I have a healthy respect for them. I have also, as an adult, always had a handgun for personal protection since that incident in the early 80’s. I have had plenty of emotional/mental provocation to use one of them against myself, if that’s the type of person I am. I have not.

b)   If you were able to destroy or otherwise remove any and all guns from my possession, or even do that also for everyone else in the world, it would not prevent someone from committing suicide, if that is their true intent. There are a million ways to die. If I wanted to die, I could simply fling myself in front of a Mack truck. DONE. Ergo, I firmly believe that guns do not kill people, people kill people.

c)   I made a decision long ago after that attack in Oklahoma, that I would never put myself in that foolish position of being defenseless against the violence present in this world and in some evil people. I was naïve at the time and had no cognizance that such things were truly sprinkled around everywhere, and could actually endanger me. Part of growing up. I will make no excuses for that decision, as I feel it is a wise one, and the right one for me. For me, the definition of stupidity (not insanity) is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. For me to continue my life without protection, after what that experience taught me, would have been the definition of stupidity. I am many things, but stupid is not one of them. You cannot ask me to place myself in danger just to satisfy some erroneous idea you have about proper ethical concerns of your profession, when it might not always apply. That was inherently myopic of you.

I contacted you simply because I needed a friend and my current friends did not step up to the plate (their failing, not mine, as I have always been there for my friends [if they ARE my friends] no matter how uncomfortable it was for me, because I believe that is the very heart of friendship, and it’s also the person I choose to be). You were to be that surrogate friend, until I got my footing again. I did not reach out to you because I was suicidal. That was your assumption. Perhaps you had no way of knowing this because of how I sounded when I left the message—but I am an HSP and I allow myself to have my feelings, and they are sometimes (perhaps too often for my own good) that raw, and that’s the place I was in emotionally. I went to you in the practical sense, because I needed immediate attention, and for frequent intervals for a period of time, and could not get that at the VA because they are understaffed and there are so many veterans who need help. I went to you in the personal sense, because of my feelings of sadness and disillusionment, but mostly to deal with the sense of betrayal and abandonment. Then you informed me you could not see me if I had guns, after I had opened myself up to you in trust, and then exacerbated this by calling my counselor at the VA. Again, more betrayals, in my mind–emotionally. It was not your place to do that. Imagine my dismay when I took responsibility for myself, and was proactive, and the new therapist I reached out to, gave me still another example of those two vexations for my heart, mind and spirit.

This is not the way to gain the trust you so desire of your new patients. And as I pointed out, there’s a flaw in the logic, when you can ultimately do nothing to prevent someone from killing themselves if they really want to die. Your position, as I see it, is to give them reasons not to feel it is a solution, not to throw fuel on that fire.

Thus, open and honest is apparently no longer serving me. I did that with my best friend, telling her how I felt, and she turned it into something about her and betrayed me and our friendship and this has caused me great pain. This is why I needed some help—because the very thing I needed most was ironically the thing that caused the immediate problem.

I have reinvented myself many times, as conditions demanded, and I can do it again. Perhaps it’s time for me to join the masses and start playing those hold-out games, because it is becoming increasingly clear to me that I am (especially as an HSP) much too sensitive to withstand the salvo that seems to naturally result. I will have to start protecting myself more by holding back. I never liked how that felt, but I like very much less the result of my honesty and openness when it seems so many are able to take that information and inflict more harm. I have always blogged, and included in my books, every nuance of what I experience and feel; most directly in blogs—all those entries where I reveal myself in hopes that it might help someone else see that they are not alone in the human experience of isolation, or pain, or despondency, or anger. So I will now be making a private blog—private for ME. Anonymous, without my name or identity attached. That way, I still might be able to help someone else, without putting myself before a Grand Jury who will judge me based on their own biases, and not on the individual truths that reside in all of us. As I’ve said before, you have to recognize your truths in the daylight, before you can find them in the dark. Insofar as honesty with other people goes, I have also always said, I am only responsible for being honest, not for someone else‘s reaction to my honesty. But I can see now, that as honorable and ethical as that position is, it does not always translate well in this world when the result is more damage to ME.

I started my writer’s group for myself, yes, because I needed to get back into my passions and joys, for my own well-being, but I started it equally for the purpose of helping others because I knew that doing that would be good for them. And I don’t like the idea that anyone has ever felt the things I have. I won’t be that ghost that vanishes in their lives when the going gets tough. I will do what I have to do to survive, as I always have, because that’s who I am at my core. But I will not allow myself to walk around without skin anymore.

And I will let go of this idea that there are professional therapists who can really help me anymore than I can help myself. Crisis is the only time I reach out, because I don’t feel I can access those parts of myself when I am in that mode, and I need a steadying presence to help me do that. Friends have been that for me, but sometimes they are not there when that onslaught come around the bend.

I hope that helps to clarify my position on this situation.

Thank you for your time.

Jae

 

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December 26th, 2011 BOOKS, creativity, Highly Sensitive Person, HSP, HUMOR, Kelli Jae Baeli, PHILOSOPHY, POLITICS, PSYCHOLOGY, Sensory Processing Sensitivity, WRITING No Comments »

Creativity, Intelligence & Depressive Realism

From a Facebook post I made, a thought-provoking subject emerged.

Jae Baeli : “Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

Tina Harada likes this.

Amanda Gulledge
I frowned when I read that so I would feel more intelligent.

Candace Lynn Breaux
Is that why I am unhappy so much of the time? LOL

Jae Baeli
LOL. Amanda–you crack me up.

Candy–probably, yes.

Victoria Bard
love it…so true!

Sandi Partee
hmmm…so does that mean I’m not intelligent? Cause I’m happy as a lark! LOL!

I understand Sandi’s reply was meant lightly, but let me just address the topic of Intelligence and Happiness…

I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive, no. There are types of intelligence and there are always variables that affect outcomes. So I would say the quote is a rule of thumb, not an absolute. There is enough data to suggest trending toward intelligent people being unhappy. It has to do with logic, pragmatism, conceptual relativism and other concepts both in and out of the purview of philosophy and philosophical thought. In the most common, if not colloquial sense, though, unhappy intelligent people are more fact-based in their ideation. There is, as such, a condition known as Depressive Realism, where seeking the truth of things–including ugly things–can cause hopefulness and positivity to wane when it becomes apparent that survival is indeed hard, people are indeed cruel and evil, and life is indeed unfair. It’s about rejecting the cognitive dissonance of optimism in the face of negative data.1

The human brain understands the world through patterns. When a new experience appears, the brain wants to match it with a previous experience in order to understand it. Paradoxically, that’s why there is a pervasive belief in society that creative and/or intelligent people are at least partially mentally ill. The pattern does, indeed, exist. But it can just as easily be based on a chicken-or-the-egg paradigm as any other. Does creativity come first, and then depression? Do depression-oriented people seek creative expression? Do intelligent people tend toward a need for creative expression? Clearly, creative people need expression of that creative impulse, they are compelled to communicate it. They also crave freedom and the leeway to think out of the box. Business people with regular white collar jobs, tend toward logic and pragmatism, and have to punch a clock and strive to fit in. This flies in the face of a creative psyche, and so more creative people are drawn to artistic endeavor than more sterile, clinical, restrictive lifestyles in the mainstream. So it might not be that artists are depressed, so much as depressed people fare better in the arts.

The newest research in this regard points to this connection being myth. However, perhaps it is a question of semantics. Which type of intelligence are we referring to? Creative intelligence? Spatial intelligence? Emotional intelligence? Since there are also a great number of divisions in the intellectual paradigm, it becomes a bit convoluted when making an emphatic statement one way or another. For instance, historically, we have known that prolific and gifted writers, artists and musicians have a tendency to self-destruct, either through escapism behaviors like drug use and alcoholism, or, tragically, through suicide. (And this is rather frightening, considering I am an artist, writer, and singer-songwriter. But i think i dodged that bullet pretty well). Many have sought these counter-productive coping mechanisms due to some aspect of being overwhelmed. Whether the “overwhelmedness” is due to the aspects of creative processes, or the realism that reveals ugly truths, is debatable. I think if you have a combination of realism and sensitivity, which usually goes hand in hand with highly creative individuals, you have a Molotov Cocktail of potential destruction. If you know how ugly things are, how unfair, and you are also very sensitive, this can lead to the inability to cope in a healthy way. The burden becomes too great.
Additionally, creative individuals are often alone, since acts of creation generally take place in isolation, so loneliness is a feature within the social psychology of the paradigm. And new research published in the online journal Genome Biology has shown that loneliness can actually make you ill.2 In research of 20,000 genes of both lonely and nonlonely people, the chronically lonely individuals showed 209 changes that resulted in immune changes, inflammation and adversely affected response to infection.

In relation to intelligence, it can be surmised that individuals with high IQ experience a type of ostracization from society, in that they don’t feel like a “normal” person. This can lead to depression, since feeling different and misunderstood can become a divisive aspect between an intelligent person and the less intelligent majority. Intelligent people also ruminate more, and analyze information more, so that it becomes easy to impose feelings of isolation on every situation and interaction. If you combine the conditions of being both highly intelligent and highly creative, the potion becomes a catalyst for depression on a larger scale.

Critics of this correlation among intelligence, creativity and depression will say that studies done have been largely retroactive in that they diagnose well-known creative people of antiquity after the fact. And yet, we understand so much more about symptomatology in the psychological vein than we did when those creative and intelligent people were alive. There is some merit in applying new understanding to the previously misunderstood.

While there are exceptions to the rule, such as intelligent creative people who ARE happy, this condition is ameliorated, in my understanding, by some other coping mechanism; usually, in the form of some voluntary belief system that allows the creative and intelligent individual to ignore the farther reaches of edification–those that would suggest more reason for unhappiness. As a coping mechanism, this is usually very effective, though it could not be characterized as completely entrenched in stark reality. Thus, the individuals who can live behind the cloak of voluntary self-deception are at once more capable of maintaining contentedness. And often, their ability to do so is predicated on the lack of biochemical imbalance that makes positive mindset difficult if not impossible. Yet, there will always be those who cannot accept this postulate, simply because they are not able to experience it. Those who do experience it, will be the ones who have to accept the melancholy that comes with the package: intelligence, creativity, and the propensity, genetic or otherwise, for depression. These individuals might also be unable to reach that rose-colored-glasses posture, no matter how much they would prefer it to be otherwise. This is the quagmire of what is commonly termed Intellectual Honesty. The truth hurts, and some individuals will always be able to choose that mitigation over the often harsh verities of existence.
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1this concept is addressed partly in one of my current books “Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology” Videos on that blog.
2 http://discovermagazine.com/2008/jan/why-loneliness-is-bad-for-you

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December 29th, 2009 fiction No Comments »

The Organic Fiction Method

The Organic Fiction Method of writing is a formula that springs from the natural flow as you add to the story; it means not relying on a steadfast outline, but rather, being open to the events and developments that might come from minor and major details that evolve as your story reveals itself.

I am an organic writer. I might begin a story or novel idea with just one scene, one snippet of dialogue, a single image, one idea or concept. These ‘seedlings’, as I call them, can appear from many different sources, which I will not expound upon in this article, except to say that they can come from conversations you have had or overheard, dreams you’ve had or others have told you about, news items, personal experiences, and so on.

The plot can be an organic process in that you may not be sure where it’s going to end up, or the pit-stops it might make beforehand, but some detail in setting, motivation, or theme will lead to another facet that fills it out. This is where research can be beneficial. If you learn all you can about the subjects you’re illustrating, those details alone can often provide you with seedlings that gel (sometimes almost magically) with the other elements of your plot.

For instance, in Also Known As DNA, a sequel to Armchair Detective (which is in progress), I moved my characters to another state. In the first book, the main character drove a ’62 Falcon, and it was important in the story; the main character also referred to the other main character’s house as “the Manor.” So in researching the area for the new book, I discovered a setting i needed, and it was called Falcon Mountain. And then I discovered that the perfect house for them just happened to be located on Manor Lane. All quite accidental discoveries, but significant in more ways than one. And the synchronicities like that which often appear can give your writing process a little boost.

Unless you’re basing a character on someone real, whom you already know well and want to use, characters can be organic, too. I never write out personal histories for my characters, as I find that stifling, and frankly, it’s time wasted that could be better used in writing the actual story. If you spend all that time getting every detail of your character in place, the process of writing the book will, in my experience, force you to omit those details or change them entirely, so I prefer to just have that general idea and then see what is required. This all depends on your own approach to the writing. Some write from plot, some from character (Hence, the phrases “plot-driven” and “character-driven”). But I allow both plot and character to remain organic and this keeps the process exciting. It’s almost as though I am “reading” the book with as much anticipation as a regular reader would, because honestly, I’m not quite sure how it will turn out. I enjoy letting characters tell me the rest through the machinations of the story. Sometimes these things fall together through dialogue, and sometimes in some other mysterious way that has to do with setting, motivation, seasons, unexpected events, or any number of other possibilities.

In one of my novels, a character once appeared whom I had not even created. Two of my established characters were on their front porch in their isolated country home, and “Tilly” suddenly just rode up on horseback and began to reveal herself to be strange and interesting, and I have no idea, to this day, where she came from.

This is part of the exhilaration of being an Organic Fiction Writer. Writing in this way helps insure that you don’t tire of the process. The journey is one that you take just like a reader, but you just get to take it before they do.

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June 21st, 2008 Uncategorized No Comments »

Veteran Aspiring Author

 

I won’t apologize for letting this blog sit and gather a few cob webs. I’ve been engaged in the work this blog espouses. Writing. Reading. Editing. Learning. Oh, and periodically, living my life, too, outside of the literary pursuits–such as it is. Blogging is a spurt-sport for me. I do it in spurts. Not so with the writing of my books.

Currently, I am polishing up previous manuscripts, after learning new things. And while this is a fresh endeavor, it’s not due to any greenness on my part. I have said many times that I spent 20 years falling in love with my craft, rather than with my words. The tide has shifted so that I finally feel I can offer my work for public consumption in a more professional and acceptable way. So I’m doing that now.

I am also writing five other books. (I don’t work on them at once, really, but sometimes I get stuck on one, or inspired about another and I switch off. Different writers have different modus operandi. ).

The issue that has reared its mottled head, is that because I am not signed with a “traditional” publisher, but have been at this writing endeavor so long, I find myself in a strange netherworld of  “Veteran Aspiring Author.” I do not feel like I “aspire” to be an author. I already am one. But then you have to get into the quagmire of definition. What is the difference between an Aspiring Author and An Author?  “Aspiring” author tends to refer to the fact that I have no contract with a publisher other than myself (though I have turned down two offers on two different books).  But I dislike the phrase Aspiring Author, as I feel it is at once a contradiction in my case. An author, in its simplest definition, and the one to which I refer, is a person who writes a book. Not tries to write it. But writes it. Completes it. When you begin your first book, you are a writer. When you have finished it, you then become an author. That is to me the most concise way of framing what an author is. So when someone refers to authors as aspiring, to me, it means they haven’t yet completed a book. To the masses, I suspect it might mean they are writing books but haven’t been published traditionally yet.

So, having said all that, I am an author. I have written 13 books (so far). I am currently writing 5 others. Imagine my discomfort when I try to find my peers. I join writing groups and the discussion is “How do I get ideas to write about?” or “Do I need to start a new paragraph when each character speaks?” or  “Why dont publashers except my writeing?”

Okay, not on that level anymore… But having peer reviews from other “unpublished” writers can be equally frustrating, when I’ve read their work and know that they are still making horrendous stylistic, grammatical and plotting errors in their own material, while seeking to help me “improve” mine. That’s a risky thing to say, as it can easily come off arrogant. I assure you, there’s a difference between arrogance and substantiated confidence. I know I have progressed. I know I’m a much better writer now than I was 10 years ago, because I’ve put the hard work in, and will always continue to expand the mastery of my craft. The learning will never end. But I am no longer part of the beginning writers crowd. In fact, the most popular magazine for writers has become somewhat useless to me, as I stopped learning anything new from it, and in fact, realized I could be writing some of those articles myself. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not arrogant, so I hope this doesn’t come off that way. I just don’t believe that false modesty serves any purpose. I am a good writer. I know that. Can I be better? of course, always. But it’s difficult to be in the position I’m in because it’s hard to find peers. And then, I have to also market my work in an environment that is still stigmatized–Independent/self-publishing. All this, while I feel like a veteran in the business.

Anyway. That’s where I am. Veteran Aspiring Author.

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March 18th, 2008 Uncategorized No Comments »

Occupational Hazard


This one time (not at band camp) I was reaching for my coffee atop my warming plate, and it seems that the usual spillage had created some odd but effective glue, and when i tried to pick it up with my usual amount of confidence, i succeeded in dousing my face and chest with hot coffee.

I’m a writer. Occupational hazards get recorded.

:nah:yeah let’s have another blog about your freaking love affair with coffee…

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