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Holly Hobby Writes – Open Book Blog Hop #47

May 9, 2016 By Captain Maiel

♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦

Topic #47

How has your hobby made you a better writer?

Sample of what clothespin reindeer look like.

Welcome back to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop! If you’re new to the series, the authors included are always grateful for your reads and appreciate, even more so, when you share our writings with your friends. If you’re new to the series, welcome aboard. The authors will engage and impress you weekly, so be prepared to become a regular reader.

Alongside my desire to become a writer when I was a kid, I thoroughly enjoyed arts and crafts. Coloring in coloring books, drawing, painting and constructing clothes pin reindeer, among other things, was a wonderful outlet for all the energy and creativity I’m known for. Whether I am exhausted or not, I am still driven to complete the job, and do so efficiently and well. I think this came from literally learning to color between the lines. It taught me patience, which extended beyond the coloring page. The same with painting and drawing, even reindeer building.

Photograph – Sadie Sue Shagbottom Naps

Open Book Blog Hop, November 2014 Art Feature

White Pear

Umbrella – pencil on high weight paper

Adult Coloring in Progress

In later years (post undergrad college, about 2005), I took up photography in earnest. I had dabbled when I could with my parent’s camera, which was a fancy Nikon with which they were nervous to let me play. I took this amazing shot of a pumpkin I had carved, but since photography was film photography then, it was a rather expensive hobby to take up, so I never pushed it. Digital had come into it’s own by 2005, and with film and digital cameras, plus a good job to now pay for the expense, I began the task of learning how to use those tools. You can see my gallery on deviantArt.com. You’ll see digital work to support my writing, photography and traditional art. The gallery is broken up by topics on the left hand side. I even have galleries where I’ve retired work, so you can see my growth from year to year. Yes, prints are available and inexpensive.

The creative arts require both patience and know how. First of all, you need to gather to you all the tools you’ll need to complete your project. You have to have a clear vision of the project, even outlining how you’ll do it. And then, you have to patiently, if not painstakingly, construct that project. While I was a kid, I had patience to do all these things in the moment that I wanted to. I never had the drive to want to sit patiently and construct stories. It was too much like homework. A bit odd I didn’t like that idea, because I did like to play school when I was little. It wasn’t all the time, but, again, when the moment drove me.

Steampunk Compass – Open 1

Years later, beside school being the obvious mold from which I take my research ethic and skills, it was those arts and crafts that really honed my patience and taught me the worthwhile nature of sitting down to a project and seeing it through. My years of writing conversely got me through my masters program, and, before that, teaching myself to write screenplays.

This blog is an offshoot of my years actively creating, and I hope that it shows the degree of skill I’ve garnered from my lifelong practice. From graphics to new books, I put in everything I’ve learned, whether self taught or having taken a course. (Forgive my typos and glaring mistakes, as I sometimes am in a rush to get things posted on time.)

Did you know I also craft jewelry? Or that I’m teaching myself German? You can check out more of my art on here and here. I also cook!

Let’s hop on over to see what the other authors have had to say about how their hobbies feed into their writing…

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Passing Failure – Open Book Blog Hop #47

May 2, 2016 By Captain Maiel

♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦

Topic #47

What to do if you’ve failed at the goals you set?

Failure is relative. I mean that. Not so long ago I looked at failure as the end of the world. I would completely fold and go into depression for weeks. It was eating me alive inside that I couldn’t manage to make goals, which kept me from other goals. Achieving seemed so easy for every one around me.

Then, I woke up one day tired of feeling that way and made a decision to refuse to feel that way anymore.

Depression is a tricky monkey. It tries to convince you that you’re worthless, when that is the furthest thing from the truth. If it can’t do that, it makes it seem as if everyone hates you–that you make everyone around you just miserable. Mine tells me that others don’t really like me and the things that I do won’t matter, because they will ignore me and my work in favor of those they do like. It’s a mix of anxiety and paranoia, I guess.

Those feelings started very young when teachers and peers slapped me down from achieving. In the case of teachers, they would hold me back to disadvantage me in favor of other students, going so far as to say I had self-control issues. My peers would pick away at my self-esteem. I was always told I was unworthy in words that also attacked my appearance.

All of that bullying stifled my dreams. I’m glad to say that form time to time, they would rear up regardless and I am here today living them. Still, the voices were in the back of my mind telling me that the world wasn’t about to allow me to achieve goals I had set, because it preferred others. No matter how hard I fought, the walls flew up and the doors slammed closed and it so much feels exactly like the unfairness I faced in childhood.

But, how did deciding that I didn’t want to feel badly anymore regardless of how things were going make a difference?

Perspective is everything. First of all, it isn’t that I stopped feeling that I constantly run into narcissists and sociopaths who get off on causing others pain. I still see those people for who they are. What difference it made was knowing that I was in control of how I regarded them. My reaction to their meddling has become nil. I pity those who cannot feel empathy for their fellow man, very much so.

Secondly, recognizing these people, learning the signs, has armored me. I spent time on social media laying down my law. Some regard me as hard hearted, or, dare I say, a bitch. The truth is, these people that I give no quarter anymore were getting in the way of my goals, by conflicting with me at every turn. They literally distracted me so much I had no time for anything else but going in constant whirls of dramatic ups and downs with them. And who were they to have my time and effort? Most were perfect strangers! Those are the easiest to shuck off–block them and move on. It’s the people you know well who are part of your life that are more difficult to protect yourself from: family, friends, coworkers, bosses and acquaintances.

The strangers honed my detection skills and I have learned how to better navigate those who try to trip me up and I cannot block from life entirely.

You have no idea how far that goes to healing depression. Because, seriously, maybe it’s caused by being surrounded by jerks!

A few years ago, I entered into a surreal part of my life, which continues now. I simultaneously experience this odd flux of being denied and simultaneously achieving. It is a very weird thing. The thing is, there are still going to be people around you who have the keys to the doors you want to get through, and they don’t like you at all, so they feel it’s their duty to punish you by denying you a way through. But, seeing them for who or what they are weakens their ability to continue, because you can see the pitfalls they’re going to set before they ever do.

And that, teaches us to see the pitfalls we set for ourselves. The more I have paid attention to human behavior, the more I have been able to navigate the treacherous tracks of life.

Not only have I chosen not to feel like crap anymore. I have chosen to surround myself with those who are positive and warm. My army of empathetic friends make me feel like a superhero every damn day. They figure out how to get around obstacles in their life and they share with the rest of us, giving us the keys to the doors we face. They don’t open the doors for us, they allow us to grow out own pace and to open our doors when we are able.

When things don’t go as I planned now, I don’t call it failure anymore. There are no raging storm clouds. I don’t go for weeks feeling like everyone hates me and forces seek to destroy me for their own pleasures.

Instead, I see opportunity and learning. Certainly, I still repeat things from time to time and end up making the same mistakes, but that is because there is more to learn from that situation.

For instance, I recently found out that my publisher will be closing their doors. Instead of crying in my pillow, I set to work forging ahead. I have a lot of graphics and a big website to keep up, which required that I update everything. I chose a course of action within minutes from being informed of my choices prior to this. The knowledge I gained from being published with them is priceless and I am actually energized going forward.

I hope that my confessions here might help another who struggles with more downs than ups. Our perception is everything and we can chose to change what it is. It’s not easy to make such a choice, but it is worth every 3 steps back and every two steps forward.

Thank you for reading and be sure to check out what the other Open Book Blog Hop authors have to say about What to do if you’ve failed at the goals you set.

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My First Memory of Books – Open Book Blog Hop #45

April 4, 2016 By Captain Maiel

♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦

Topic #45

Your first memory of books or reading.

I can’t tell you how old I was. I just remember holding this children’s book–something about Mother Goose. The Cover was purple and Mother Goose was flying on a great big grey saddled avian. It was one of those personalized books. My brother had one too. I had another one that was Snow White. I barley understood who the other kids were supposed to be in the book. I only recognized my brother’s name.

Sitting on the edge of my granddad’s bed, I penciled my name into the cover…several times. I wasn’t marking the book as mine. Remember that my brother had a copy of his own. I was practicing my name, in the “This Book Belongs To” badge on the front end paper before the title pages. I recognized that was where my name went, but then I got carried away with it, excited I could mark my identity on paper.

The graphite renderings, like sticks roughly stacked together spelled my name. I wasn’t in school yet. I stayed at grandma’s during the day while mom and dad worked. My heart is still tied to that house–even after my uncle manipulated it away from them, turned it into a rental and tore apart everything I cherished from my childhood.

I still dream about their house. It always served as a sanctuary from my nightmares. Oddly. I say that, because the house has a story behind it, but I will save that story for another time. Suffice it to say, it was the other place I liked to be, when I wasn’t in my room with my stacks of books.

I remember mom telling me she had gotten me a subscription to Scholastic Books. I wasn’t sure what that all meant until they came in the mail every so often. It was pretty awesome, actually. I still have all of those books, and then some. I became very much attached to them and well…the rest is history.

My mini library definitely shaped me into a writer, and made my intelligence what it is today. My mom had the foresight to set me on that path.

My writing has also improved. I’ve received many compliments on it, and call it Kelligraphy.

So, let’s see what the other authors’ first memories are…

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Controversy in Writing – Open Book Blog Hop #43

March 21, 2016 By Captain Maiel

♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦

Topic #43

Events/Announcements/Updates

Controversial topics, industry news, parallels between events and your writing, topic or genre.

This summer will see the release of the second installment of my Trailokya Series. This event is something I’m very excited about. A thread of nervousness always attends my releases: how will it be received, what will the reviews say, did I truly fail this time, will I rise, or will people be upset by what I’ve written? Of all of those questions, the last is the one that almost always haunts me more than any of the others.

Controversy is a sticky wicket. On one hand, it could garner interest in your work. On the other, you could get buried by the controversy and all future work be received with derision by all but a few hard fans, that you may or may not wish to be associated with (for instance, writing about race and finding out you appeal to the Knights of the Klan. Yikes!).

The Trailokya series is the kind of book that faces some of the most difficult topics, and I’ve gathered them all under one cover, so to speak. From social issues like domestic violence, to culture wars and religion—these books don’t shy away from any of it. They will probably offend atheists and theists alike. It will drudge up the worst of the Men’s Rights Movement at the sight of a strong woman in charge, and they’ll likely revel in her pains, calling it deserved. For them, all women are evil.

What have you done? You might ask.

In the first installment, The Shadow Soul, I introduce the reader to a view of universe that stretches beyond the veil of perception as we know it. Angels and Demons populate the many regions. The war between them is still raging. But that is about where the similarity to Judaeo-Christian-Islamic tradition ends. You will find Buddhist, Hindu, pagan and other faiths intermingled in ways that make sense of each piece as if they were the shards from the fable of the Tower of Babel. Science (trans-dimensional travel, Tesla’s free energy, nanotechnology) becomes interspersed with this proposition and helps to hone a fantastical world.

That is enough to cause quite the controversy, especially with the deeply religious. When you take texts, ideas or teachings that are held close to the heart, and you fit them into a competing narrative, then you risk upsetting people. Their irrational actions are their way of attempting to protect their closely held beliefs, when they refuse to look at the competing text as simply just another competing text. I believe that is called cognitive dissonance. When one is comfortable in what they believe, that won’t happen. Unfortunately, we know all too well how few human beings are completely comfortable with their beliefs.

In the upcoming installment, Burning Down, I go deeper into the feminist track that the series takes. How feminist is it? You’ll have to read the books and decide for yourself. Some may not regard the struggle to maintain a family as inherently feminist. Again, some may not find the abuse that arises as inherently feminist either, citing that it happens to all genders (disregarding the disproportionate number of cases on file in every state and around the world where the woman is the victim). And this assessment will come from all sides. Perhaps Maiel isn’t focused enough on her career, and too focused on the man or her children to satisfy feminists. Perhaps she isn’t strong enough, or too strong—too this, too that.

Controversy arises in challenging what others are comfortable with. It is stirring the pot of convention and seeing what rises to the top. Will this mix work in the books? The reviews so far have praised these very things, but as the trilogy gains traction and a growing readership, I am still nervous. The punches will come, but will they carry any weight?

That in mind, I look forward to the release of the second book, but I am guarded.

Thanks for taking the time to read this week’s installment. Be sure to check out what the other authors have to say on the topic. You’ll find the links below…

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Personal Experience – Open Book Blog Hop #42

March 14, 2016 By Captain Maiel

♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦

Topic #42

Personal Experience.

This prompt has a couple of opportunities for me. I could speak about my experience in the publishing world. Or, I could reveal a very personal moment from my past. Just because the latter sounds much more exciting, I think I will go with that one!

A couple of years ago, I was lying in bed, probably half asleep but feeling like I wasn’t getting there fast enough. Sometimes, I just lay there with my brain going a hundred miles an hour on everything at once. Most mornings, I wake up more tired than when I went to sleep. It takes a lot of effort to even lift myself up from the mattress.

If you’re familiar with my books, then you probably already know that I have quite the imagination. This mind of mine has been like this since I can remember. It wasn’t something I developed. The operating system came with the model. That said, I am absolutely positive that what happened on the night I’m about to discuss was 100% real.

How do I know? I have a roommate. I know, right! Writing isn’t always the glamorous thing you imagine. There are bills to pay. I have struggled for a long time to achieve promotions where I work (they are done through testing and lists and I am competing with thousands, many who have seniority points and good relationships with those who can move them up. I am not well connected, it seems and have had to achieve on my merit alone. I am not dismissing the hard work of other people. The fact is there are few opportunities and too many to fill them). Without opportunity, my income hasn’t been what it should be for my education level. Anyway, that is why I have a roommate—we’re sharing an apartment to afford the high cost of Upstate New York living. Things are on the up, though! Slowly but surely tucking away that house down payment.

Back to the experience (although that bit above is personal experience in its own right).

I am not one to believe in coincidence. Neither am I one to not believe in them. I am fair minded—a mix of Mulder and Scully (I’ve been told I look like Scully, so maybe I’m their recalcitrant daughter. Weirder shit has happened). Keep that in the back of your mind as I share the tale. It’s very much an X-Files (1993) moment.

I had been asleep, or trying to sleep for a few hours. I am not sure what time it was, probably after 1 AM. I woke up startled. A cold dread slipped over me as I lay in bed, too warm to keep the blankets on, but too terrified to kick them off. I reached for Sadie, to pet her as it usually soothes my night terrors (yes, I have those—at least, I wake up in a sweat for no reason, startled and scared. It could be a hold over from abuse. It could be a bad bit of gravy. Likely it’s caused by a dream my brain immediately forgets but leaves me with the souvenir of the horrible feelings I was having).

At that moment, Sadie’s head popped up and she stared into the corner of my room.

Now, it’s best to understand my space. My room is kinda small. There is no place for anything to stand in it that wouldn’t be obvious. I feel claustrophobic most times. I was spoiled growing up with a very large room and a comfortably sized home. My parents provided well for me and my brother. My apartment is about the size of my old bedroom and maybe the old kitchen, the top floor of an old house. So, whatever Sadie is staring at could only be about six feet or so from me (2 feet from my feet). I wrapped the blankets tighter, sweating like hell. The feeling usually subsides in a few minutes and I get up to go to the bathroom to shake it off and get a drink. I’m not moving, though. Sadie is growling low.

Then, all of a sudden, I hear a wolf howl. I freeze, eyes wide. My heart is pounding. Sadie braces at my side, then pushes up on her front paws to sit. Her head is cocked, listening. She’s still staring into the corner. The howl came from that corner. Outside my room? In that corner of the living room?

Wait, how the hell is a wolf in the middle of my city? How is this happening? Was it Sadie and she woke herself up from a dream? No. She doesn’t sound like that.

I sit up and the room appears to lighten a little. Another howl happens. Sadie growl-barks toward the door of my room. This time the howl sounded a bit distant. My fear turns to excitement. How the hell did what happened just happen?

As someone who spends a bit of time advocating for wolves, I now the difference between dog howls and wolf howls. It was no coyote either, not at all yippy. I may be living in the city, but I grew up in rural New York. I know wolf howls. This was a wolf.

Running through all the possibilities, I think of all the dogs in the area—not one is a hybrid. Yes, I do live near enough to rural areas, but for them to dare to come into the city would be a death sentence by frightened human beings and an animal control unit that doesn’t see the value of these animals. We are the State that slaughtered a whole herd of Bison for breaking out of their farm. We’re well populated by yahoos that can’t wait to shoot a high profile predator or large animal, harboring a blood lust that should disturb not inspire.

Recently, I had completed my initial work on the Trailokya Trilogy. Wolves feature prominently in the narrative. The reason they do, before you go on and say, well that’s it! You were dreaming it all—The reason is that I dream about them often and work on social media to advocate for them. I have been advocating for wolves for a long time because of a deep spiritual connection I have had with them since I was just a little kid.

In my ancestor’s Europe, the wolf was slaughtered to near extinction. They are just starting to make a comeback, but the old ways still hold sway. Whereas Native Americans saw them as teachers and spiritual emissaries, respected the wolf and used his medicine, my people were almost always scared of them. The wolf was either a devil or a symbol of power. Many confuse the super predator for a dangerous man-eater. Wolves would rather avoid man, probably because genetic memory has left them with a sense of fear against us for the same reasons. We slaughtered them every where we went. We made hats out of them, capes, boots…Viking lore teaches us about Fenrir who will rend the world. Celts bore the wolf as a dark and powerful symbol, much like the Starks of Game of Thrones (2011). The wolf for my ancestors was strength and a dangerous foe to make. He was also the progenitor of all our Sadie Sues.

Being a dog mom, always and forever a dog mom, I see more and more my connection to their wild counterparts. Certainly the two are quite different, and yet they are quite the same. It’s such an odd dichotomy. Anyway, it is these connections that made me so excited to have heard what I heard.

At this point, I jumped up from bed and went into the living room and looked in the corner half expecting Argus to be standing there. The room was silent—empty. My roommate sleeps with her door open, so her cat can come and go. Otherwise, Miss Potts plucks her nails on the door and it makes a horrible noise all night. She is that kind of cat: a total troll.

My heart rate is coming back to normal. I ask my roommate if she’s awake. Did she hear that? She did. Our directions are different, but that is to be expected, as she is disoriented from the shock and doesn’t usually know directions in midday with a compass (sorry, but it’s true). Besides, Sadie was looking where I was looking because she was looking there. But maybe there were two? One where I heard it from and one from where she heard it from.

I stood there shocked for a few moments. What had just happened? Both my roommate and my dog had heard it. I was standing up, wide awake, in the living room. I was cold with sweat. The house felt peaceful. Although I know he is just a dream, just a character in my book, I’m wondering if Argus had just protected me from something that was trying to enter my house—something that had darkened the rooms. Do I believe in things like that? I have no idea, but I’ve seen things that would make you scream like a five year old.

I lay back in bed, the fear had taken a hike.

Why would wolves be in town? We certainly have food for them, from garbage picks to more healthy fair: ducks, rabbit, dear, squirrel, and even fish. I’ve heard they like feral cats as well, and there are plenty of those anywhere. The surrounding area is the foothills of the Adirondacks. I guess one or two could have ranged this far down. They are quite the travelers.

I guess we’ll never know a certain answer to what happened that night. For me, it will remain a favorite mystery and possible ghost story. I have a few ghost stories, in fact, as I alluded to above, but I’ll leave them for another time and a stormy evening.

Thanks for taking the time to read about my personal experience. Be sure to check out what the other authors have to say on the topic.