Talking about Writing again—Where?
I had a friend ask me today “how can you write in a coffee shop, around all of those people?”
It gave me pause for a minute. I never thought about NOT writing here. I only think of the places I can’t write: my house, my office, my front porch. There are just too many distractions at home and work. My front porch is pretty and would totally make a great spot for writing if 1) I wasn’t terrified of bugs 2) we didn’t have an outdoor cat that is very needy and clingy. I envision him sitting on my laptop.
The other place I’m pretty successful is the library. CERTAIN libraries. I live in a county that has an awesome library system, so there are many locations to choose from. I prefer the smaller, quieter ones.
So where do you write? Can you write anywhere? I still have a hard time considering myself a writer, and I treat writing as a patient. I schedule it in for Wednesday mornings. I can force myself to write, whether I want to or not, because writing is my 10-1pm “patient”.
Distractions are another topic for another time 🙂
Comment below on your favorite place or places to write.
A Salute to Veterans
When Facebook became really popular and we started posting messages on holidays, I tried to post on Veterans Day, tagging all of my friends and family that were Vets. I had too many. So I decided that this year, I would do a blog post. This is just honoring my family, but I have many, many friends that are Vets too.
Please feel free to add your name, or the names of special Veterans in the comment section.
Thank you to all Veterans for all of their sacrifices.
Barbara Garcia 1974-2004 (mom)
Emma Garcia (sister)
Michael Demko Sr WWII (maternal grandfather) RIP
Jeff Demko OIF (cousin)
Manual “Memmy” Garcia Korea (uncle) RIP
Air Force-
Armando Nunez Desert Storm (husband)
Armando “Ray” Nunez Sr Vietnam (father in law) RIP
Michael Demko Jr (uncle)
Sara Wellman OIF/OEF (cousin)
A story that’s perfect for Halloween
Here is a short story I wrote (as a writing warm up) a few weeks ago.
It’s spooky, so I thought I’d share it today 🙂 My use of the word (is it a word?) “daresn’t” is in memory of my late grandmother, from PA who always said “daresn’t”
Happy Halloween!
My heart pounds in my ears. I struggle to keep my breath normal, despite the fact that my chest is heaving and I feel the need to gasp for air. I entangle myself from my car, hit the lock button and quietly close the door. I daresn’t use the lock remote, as it would make the car honk, and I want to avoid attracting any attention to myself.
I creep soundlessly across the dark parking lot, ever hyper vigilant. My head swivels right and left, towards any sound, any movement– anything that could be THEM. I’m aware of my pounding heart again. I focus on controlling my breath. Slow and steady. Like a marksman. “Get it together” I whisper to myself.
Suddenly, I hear a laugh. Almost, cackle like. It’s them! I freeze in my tracks, and assess my surroundings. I am too far from my car to double back. There is a Kia Soul approximately 4 body lengths away from me. I want to move to it’s safety, it would be a great cover from my exposed body. I can’t let them see me or smell my fear. They pounce on the smell of fear, they live on collecting souls.
I run for cover in two fast movements. I wait, crouched behind the engine block of the car. I know it will provide the best protection, and shield me from their ammo. Did my running attract their attention? Their keen eyes miss nothing, they are always looking for new blood.
I hear their laughter and conversation stop. Now I’ve done it. They are on to me. I maintain my crouched position and risk exposure to peer over the hood. I can see their blood red nails and lips shimmering in the moonlight. They begin to walk towards me.
My heart is hammering in my ears and my brain is screaming to my legs “run” but I feel frozen in place. As I hear the clicking of their heels approach, the panic rises, as does the bile in my throat. I have to keep moving, I can’t let them catch me.
Another quick peek over the hood shows that they are only two cars away. They are not moving quickly, but they are definitely on to my scent. I close my eyes for a minute, then focus on my car, approximately 40 feet away. As I hear their footfall approach, I jump up and sprint to my car.
I fumble with my keys, dropping them once. I manage to recover them, midstride and hit the unlock button and swing the drivers side door open. I hit the automatic lock as soon as I am inside. I jam the key in the ignition and throw the gear shift into drive. I see that they have followed me, only mere feet away.
I speed away, leaving them looking confused and somewhat startled. My breathing doesn’t return to normal until I am two miles away. I know they can’t follow me, they don’t know where I live.
Suddenly my phone rings. The dread immediately returns to my heart. It’s them. My stomach sours. Like on autopilot, I go to answer the phone. My brain is screaming “no” but I can’t seem to stop my hand. I slide the ringing phone icon over the green button and say in a shaky voice “hello?”
(suspenseful pause)
“Joanna! I swear we just saw you in the coffee house parking lot. This is Tilly, from Mary Kay. Are you ready to order more foundation? I can put you on auto order, so you never run out!” she informs me cheerfully.
You win, Mary Kay commandos. You win.
🙂 Not meant to offend anyone. This just happens to me. Often.
Halloween and PTSD
This was originally posted on my professional blog, but since it relates to PTSD and it’s almost a Public Service Announcement, I thought I would post it here too. (if you follow both blogs I apologize for the repetition)
That’s a broad topic (Halloween and PTSD). When I mentioned blogging on this topic to a friend she said “There’s a connection between the two?”.
The answer is yes. Halloween can be a really scary (no pun intended) season for SOME people with PTSD. Some people that have PTSD might be triggered with the gore/props, jump scares and the masks or cloaking that take place for Halloween.
Gore/props- fake blood, body parts, bones can be a trigger, especially for combat Veterans with PTSD. Body parts and blood come right out of a battlefield scene and can bring back morbid memories.
Jump scares- sneaking out from behind a corner and shouting “boo” might seem like a funny idea, but to someone that has PTSD and is already hyper vigilant (over stimulated, constantly scanning) it can be detrimental. That initial shock of adrenaline that happens to anyone when they are scared can actually trigger physiological stimuli in the body, and “prepare” the body for combat, or any other traumatic scenario the person has experienced.
Masks/Costumes- masks are a metaphor for hiding your true feelings or the “true” person underneath. On Halloween, they are not viewed that way, they are for fun and celebration. To a person with PTSD, not being able to read the facial expressions and subtle cues because of a mask can make them extremely uncomfortable and stand offish.
I don’t want you to misunderstand what I’m saying- not ALL people with PTSD have issues with Halloween. Several years ago, I had the privilege of working with the Warrior Transition Battalion at Ft. Bragg. Their Commander asked each Company to do a Halloween themed Trunk or Treat and Haunted House. I was leery, and spent the week leading up to Halloween (their prep and construction time) waiting for these Vets to be triggered. If anyone was, they didn’t show it. They had some of the goriest, scariest scenes constructed and they took great delight in scaring each other and older visitors. It was one of the biggest morale building events I had ever seen.
On the contrary, last year, several of my Active Duty Soldiers and Airmen called to tell me they were having issues because they had been triggered by another Soldier who had dressed up and hid in the bushes along their PT route, jumping out to scare people. When someone reported it, the Chain of Command made this Soldier stop, but some damage had already been done.
In summary, just use caution and discretion when engaging people in your Halloween festivities. Don’t criticize for lack of costume, not wanting to go to Halloween parties or “haunted” houses/corn mazes/hayrides. You never know how they are being interpreted to others.
Let’s Talk about Writing
I’m a novice, an amateur, a beginner. I’m lucky to have several friends in the writing world that have been able to give me advice and ideas along the way.
I want to hear from YOU. The writers out there. I know NaNoWriMo is coming up, and I’ve convinced myself I “can’t” do it, because I will be busy with work, the holidays, etc. Yet, I know there are writers out there that hold down full time jobs too.
So if you’re feeling generous, share with us. Tell me how you get in the right mind frame to write. How do you eliminate distractions?
Here is what works for me (so far):
1) Not writing at home or work. Coffee shops, libraries, anywhere that’s not work or home. Less distractions and I feel like I NEED to be writing when I am there.
2) Scheduling time to write. Today, there happened to be some bonus free time, but I have scheduled writing time every Wednesday.
3) Writing sprints. Keeping with the scheduled time to write, writing with yourself or several others and forcing yourself to reach some goal during that time- whether its words, pages, or edits.
4) Easing in to it. Some days when I sit down to write, I don’t feel like writing, or my mind is too distracted. I force myself to do a writing exercise- a blog post, a short story, anything to transition into “writing mode”. (Now you know why I wrote this post today 🙂 )
My Dad and food
I always wondered where I got my love of food from, especially my love of cooking. Growing up, Mom did most of the cooking, but every once in a while Dad would grace us with one of his Mexican specialties- Carne Asada, Carne Guisada, ‘Migas (Chilaquiles to some) and the ever popular, tacos and burritos.
Over our Thursday lunches, Dad and I often discuss the progress of the book, which Dad starts the conversation with “how’s the book going?” While technically the book interviews are finished, I often find myself grabbing a napkin or four to take extensive notes about whatever story Dad “remembers” that day. Lately, food has been the topic. I learned all about C-rations. When I mistakenly called them “MREs” (Meals Ready to Eat) I was quickly corrected “C-rations”. We talked about the types of C-rations, the unpopular ones, the most popular ones (hint, there was much less variety than today’s MREs). How they were hoarded and traded. How each one included cigarettes and toilet paper (the essentials!) How when times were desperate, everyone donated their last few cans to make a hobo stew.
Due to our schedules, we aren’t going to be able to have lunch for the next 3 or 4 weeks. I’m sure I will see my Dad over the next month, it just won’t be as special as our lunches.
A new experience
I am no stranger to grant writing. I took a class on grant writing in graduate school. I took a 2 week seminar on how to read, apply for and decode government grants (don’t try to write a government grant if you want to keep your sanity). October has become “grant season” for me. I work (as a contactor) for a local non profit that has been applying for any and every grant we come across for our program. I see qualifications, letters of intent and budgets in my sleep.
Today, however, I did something a little different. I finished my first grant for myself. I’m applying for a local literary grant to help with the costs of writing a book. (Who knew all of the money that goes into writing a book?!?).
At first, I wasn’t going to share the fact that I was applying for the grant publicly. I felt that was like changing your relationship status prematurely on Facebook- if the relationship doesn’t work, you have to go through the humiliation of changing it back to “single” and enduring all of the questions and “supportive” comments.
This is not a relationship though. This is part of the book writing process, in a way. I need to be proud of the what I’ve accomplished, even if I’m not awarded the grant. (Cross your fingers for me, ok?)
A “real author”
One of the hardest parts of this project has been viewing myself as a real author. I didn’t grow up dreaming of being published. I didn’t work on the high school newspaper. I didn’t even take a journalism class in college.
I see the need for this book, for my Dad’s story to be told and to help those with Secondary Trauma, so I push on.
I just applied for my first literary grant to help with this book. You HAVE to brag on yourself when you have two pages to beg for money. You have to toot your own horn. I’m not unfamiliar to self promotion- I built my practice from the ground up. I am an LCSW though (Licensed Clinical Social Worker). I felt confident and competent doing that.
So my goal from this moment forward- my first round of edits are back. I am no longer allowed to say “I’m not a real author”. I’m just not a published author…yet 😉
Putting PTSD on paper
Introductory posts are so cliché, but here I go….
I’m working on my first book (and possibly my last book). I’m a Licensed Clinical Social Worker by day (basically, a therapist) and I work with a LOT of Service Members with PTSD. I even have another blog about it (shameless self promotion!) and you can check that out HERE.
It occurred to me one day, in the middle of a session, that I’m pretty sure my Dad had PTSD. The next thought was that if he had PTSD, that must mean there had been a time in his life that he hadn’t had PTSD. Too bad that time was before my parents had even met. I realized I would never get to know my “real” Dad, just PTSD Dad.
I kind of became depressed and started the “why me?” game. That lasted a while and I realized that so many more people were in the same situation I was- kids of parents with Combat PTSD. It had to have shaped their lives. My Dad’s PTSD might have even shaped the way I reacted to things. So I started to do that thing I hate—research. I began to research the topic of Children of Vietnam Vets. What I found blew me away. So I decided to write a book about it. Then I realized I didn’t really know why my Dad had PTSD. I heard countless stories of war/combat on a weekly basis, with my government contract counseling job (mostly at Ft. Bragg, NC) and at my private practice. These were all Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom Vets (OIF/OEF). I knew Vietnam Vets had a different experience.
The more I researched, the more I wanted to learn. I started compiling the statistical stuff, but I’m a therapist. I wanted stories. I approached my Dad and to my complete surprise, he said he would tell me about his two tours. We have been working on this project since March of 2014 and every day is a new challenge.
Joanna Nunez, Author 