Tag Archive for: stress

Writing Through The Dark… Or Not

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 Writing Through The Dark… Or Not

By Cathy Perkins

One of the mantras you hear a lot if you’re an author is you
can’t wait around waiting for that drunken hussy of a writing muse to show up
for work. Instead, it’s BICHOK. You have to put Butt In Chair, Hands On
Keyboard.

There are, of course, dozens of reasons this is true.
Writing is, after all, a craft. Part of improving is doing. Practicing.
Challenging yourself in new ways. Putting the words on that page.

So why are so many of us staring at a blinking cursor, if we
even heave our protesting butts into the chair? Why are we cursing at that
cursor?

I considered this last night during my 3 AM round of
insomnia.

Sleep deprivation is an easy target. Lack of sleep has
been linked to poor cognitive performance. This includes a laundry list of
negative attributes including poor focus and concentration, low creativity,
erratic behavior, inability to multitask, and increased mistakes. While there is
a clamor about “creative insomnia” these days, the sad truth is we need sleep—and
that’s before we explore the myriad ways sleep deprivation messes with the rest
of our bodies.

What if you’re getting enough sleep? Or you’re trying to get
enough sleep? Maybe you have to look a little deeper. Maybe it’s time to
acknowledge the stressors underlying that lack of sleep.

Stress.

Interestingly enough, a number of the articles I read about
creativity and stress actually focused on the role of a creative outlet in
reducing stress. But as I explored this topic, the preferred “creative outlets”
stressed repetitive motions: walking, gardening, talking with friends,
activities that are too often curtailed these days by COVID-19-induced
isolation and bitter winter cold.

Isolation. Cold. COVID-19. Darkness. Now those are some major
stressors.

As I read more, I found useful discussions about psychological
safety that doesn’t create crippling performance pressure. Basically, you need
to let go of forcing yourself to “be creative.” If you’re already stressed, those
threats simply trigger more fight or flights reactions—the most primitive,
least creative part of your brain. Instead of demanding creativity, relax. Tell
yourself, what if…

Let’s play around with this idea…

Of course, these articles also advocated, you guessed it, stress
reducing activities like walking, gardening, and talking with friends. Or “going
to your happy place” such as a favorite coffee shop or roaming a museum or art gallery.

Yeah, I’m looking forward to those creative inciting activities
too.

In the meanwhile, the helpful ideas include:

1) Meditate. Calm your mind.

2) Walk. Get outside if possible. Let your mind relax.

3) Read. Turns out it’s a stress buster.

4) De-clutter. Research says decluttering your workspace can
also clear your head.

5) Live life. Winter and COVID will end. Go enjoy every
minute.  


An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.  Visit her at http://cperkinswrites.com or on Facebook 

Sign up for her new release announcement newsletter in either place.

She’s hard at work on Peril in the Pony Ring, the sequel to The Body in the Beaver Pond, which was recently presented with the Killer Nashville’s Claymore Award. 

‘Tis the Season

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By AB Plum

A few weeks
ago, a friend told me jubilantly, “The date’s set.”

December 3—the date for her husband’s hip-replacement surgery.

They’d
waited for over six weeks for a definite date … 
because of Thanksgiving and the approaching year’s end. A scheduled time
was still up in the air.

And that
detail was driving her husband crazy. He was fretting over every possibility.

  • ·       
    What
    if the hospital set the time and then changed it?
  • ·       
    What
    if they had to arrive at oh-dark-thirty?
  • ·       
    What
    if the time got postponed after they arrived at the hospital?
  • ·       
    Why
    couldn’t the surgeons change their routine practice of epidurals and put him
    under?
  • ·       
    What
    if he became nauseated after the anesthesia?
  • ·       
    What
    if he couldn’t manage the post-surgical pain?
  • ·       
    How
    would she get him from the car into their ground-floor apartment?
  • ·       
    What
    if they couldn’t manage the shower without help?
  • ·       
    What
    if his adult kids didn’t understand why they couldn’t travel for Christmas?
  • ·       
    What
    if he was totally immobile during the holiday?
  • ·       
    How
    would he get his Christmas shopping done?
  • ·       
    How
    disappointed would everyone be because he couldn’t smoke the turkey?
      Somehow, the
fretting didn’t drive my friend nuts.
(Her patience borders on saintly). She said part of what helped her stay
centered was avoiding the non-stop Christmas ads and parties and implied demands
that Christmas required a nine-course dinner with twenty guests and a house
decorated by Martha and a new BMW or
Lincoln or Range Rover parked in the driveway as the gift du jour.

My friend’s
husband came through the surgery with no problems. He’s exceeding expectations
with the physical therapist who comes to their home twice a week. He manages
the pain with a third of what his surgeon allowed.

His fretting
about Christmas gifts and the Christmas dinner and decorating the apartment takes
center stage fewer and fewer hours of every day. To keep my friend’s stress
manageable, they’ve agreed on thirty minutes or so of fretting-debrief after
she comes home each evening. She’ll unpack a few ornaments this weekend while
he makes eggnog and queues up Miracle on
34th Street.
‘Tis the
season to fret because social and mainstream media never let us think we can finish
everything that needs to be done. Stress—the noun equivalent of fret—piles up
as we struggle to be perfect. Running faster and faster blocks the question:
WHY?
This year
I’m downshifting. I’m a reluctant shopper at best, but I’m boycotting Amazon.  Too easy to succumb to buying more stuff. I’ve contributed to favorite charities
to honor the people on my list who really don’t need more stuff.

And, I’ve
decided on a unique gift for a couple of family members and friends. I got the
idea from Through Rose-Colored Glasses, the
February release of my second Ryn Davis mystery. Check out the book if you’re
interested.

Here’s
wishing one and all a fret-free season—or as close as you can get to fret free.

*******  

AB Plum
lives, writes, and plays just off the fast-lane in Silicon Valley. A broken
hand in October caused a bit of fretting about getting her second Ryn Davis
mystery to market, but she’s ready to hand [pun intended] off the ARC and
feeling light as snowflake and ready to enjoy the holidays.

Joyful Joyful

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It’s my turn today and I had nothing, so I asked Kay for suggestions and she mentioned writing about “things you do that help you find joy in everyday life when you live in a great but stressful city.“

I found a scale that identifies stress in your life and my score was very low. (The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale). In another article (The Holmes-Rahe Life Stress Inventory), the top five ways cited to relieve stress are:

  1. Reading novels or magazines
  2. Watching TV
  3. Renting and watching a video
  4. Learning a new craft or hobby
  5. Camping

Guess what? I do all of them except camping, unless we can call staying at a five-star hotel camping because I did do that.

What things do I do to find joy in my everyday life?

  • I love reading.
  • I love sending a positive message every morning on social media.
  • I love reading the posts that authors write up for dru’s book musings and I always love seeing it when it posts.
  • I love helping authors spread the word about their work on social media.
  • I love *being* with my friends on Facebook.
  • I love traveling, yes, this introvert who would rather be in her own home, love to travel, especially when it is to meet up with friends, old and new.
  • I love being happy.
  • I love fine dining.
  • I love discovering new-to-me authors.
  • I love hanging out with my friends, although few and far between.
  • I love attending mystery conferences and exploring the new cities that I’ve never been to before.
  • And I love that the Mystery Writers of America is honoring me with the Raven Award.

With what is happening in America today, I’m so happy that I still have my books to read and the anticipating of traveling across North America to meet up with friends and talk about books.

So, tell me, what activities do you pursue to relieve stress in your life?

Taking Care of You!

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Take Care of You! by Debra H.
Goldstein

I am not a good nurse. In fact, I am a b, which rhymes with
witch, but then again I am married to a man who isn’t much of a patient.

Last week, he had arthroscopic surgery on his knee for a
torn meniscus. Note: arthroscopic surgery is not a knee replacement. It hurts,
but not nearly as much as a knee replacement. He gets my sympathy because I
know it hurts and this is the third time in the last fifteen years he has had a
knee scoped (he tore it the first time when he used to run nine miles a day;
the second time during a random stumble; and this time probably being on the
treadmill too much). I did mention that he isn’t a good patient, didn’t I?

Anyway, this was a same day surgery. The entire procedure
took about fifteen minutes – prepping

and post-surgery recovery made up most of
the time he was at the hospital. He came home on a walker (neither of us is
good with crutches) already allowed to be weight bearing as tolerated. At that
point, he collapsed on the bed (after having lunch because he was a bit
hungry).

I dutifully kept his knee iced, brought him drinks and
snacks, and did the things necessary, but after a few days, I was ready for him
to be well or at least a little more self-sufficient. Maybe it is because I can
remember how I was after I had the same surgery. I was groggy the first day,
obedient with my exercises the second day, and pretty much back and going
within a few days. I didn’t have a choice.

Mothers don’t have a choice. We keep on running because
secretly we run the house, the world, our kids, our spouse, and anything else
that needs to be taken care of. We take care of ourselves last. That’s why the
commercials about moms getting sick hit home – the Mom can’t and won’t allow
herself to stop to be sick. Too many people depend upon her.

The best example I’ve seen of this is a film made by the
American Heart Association starring the mom from Modern Family. In the clip,
the obvious working woman is juggling a business call, making her kids lunch,
finding her husband’s tie and getting the children off to school. Suddenly, she
feels tightness in her chest, discomfort, and begins sweating, but she ignores
everything because she is Mrs. Mom. Her ability to spread the peanut butter,
get the kids out the door, put the dishes up, and do other simultaneous chores
deteriorates, but she assures everyone she is fine. Her son doesn’t believe her
and shows her on his phone that she is having the symptoms of a heart attack.
She disagrees. She doesn’t have time for that. He dials 911 and hands her the
phone. While the kids leave for school and the voice says the paramedics will
be there immediately, she looks up from the floor at the now messed up house
and asks, “Could you make it ten minutes, so I can clean up a little?”

It is a classic piece that reminds us we, as women, need to
take care of ourselves. As writers juggling families, households, jobs, social
media and deadlines, we sometimes forget to look in the mirror and say, “I care
about you. I need to stop and take care of you.” Please do! It’s important. Be
a B, with a capital B for yourself. And btw, my husband is doing better and
didn’t even notice (or at least he better not admit if he did) I was being a b,
which rhymes with witch.   

Now is the time…

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Late in the month, it seems like almost everyone suddenly wakes
up and realizes that the deadlines that seemed so very far away are now, like,
almost here, man.  Cue panic.  Cue sudden uptick in workload for yours
truly.  The problem is that I’m exactly
like everyone else.  I’ve been noodling
over several pieces of writing and now the deadline is like, almost here,
man! 
Now is when the marathon of writing becomes a sprint. Just
how fast can fingers type?  We’re about
to find out. 
Now is also about the time when back pain and carpal tunnel
set in.  Time to start juicing
writers!  No, I mean literal
juicing.  It’s important to stay hydrated
– prevents muscle spasms.  Although, I
personally prefer copious amounts of tea, liberally applied, at regular
intervals.
Now is the time when the tiny proto-human you’ve been
carefully nurturing like a hot house bloom looks up from a coloring book and
says, “Sorry mom, work. Four more minutes.” 
Gee, wonder where she got that?
Now is the time that my face looks like this:

So wish me luck as I sprint to the end of the month.  And wish my family luck as they get abandoned
for fake people that I made up. 
***
Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie
Mae Mysteries, Tales from the City of
Destiny and An Unseen Current.
 You can also view the Carrie Mae youtube video
or catch up with her on Twitter and Facebook.

Feast or Famine

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by Susan McBride

I’ve been wishing for calm and peace around here lately, particularly after finishing up a really tough deadline for LITTLE BLACK DRESS (which you all heard about in my last post!). It’s been a crazy few months what with putting on the “Wine, Wit & Lit” fundraiser for Casting for Recovery back in early October, my mom’s diagnosis of breast cancer and her treatment, and LBD’s due date. I kept telling myself, “This too shall pass,” and it did. The fundraiser went beautifully, and we raised enough money to send 1-1/2 women to a Casting for Recovery retreat for breast cancer survivors; my mom made it through her surgery and treatment with flying colors; and, I finished LBD in the nick of time AND am so proud of how it turned out.

“Can I have a week of calm?” I asked. “Just one week?”

I figured that would be a given. I mean, what could go wrong? I had the days ahead all planned out: lounging in front of the boob tube in my jammies (as opposed to slaving away at the keyboard in said jammies); watching endless HGTV until I began to have dreams that Clive and Lisa had shown up to stage my house; reading all the books I’d put aside while I was in deadline hell; and sleeping so much my husband would check my pulse to make sure I was alive.

What happened instead was our youngest kitty Blue crashed within 24 hours of turning my latest book in. She was listless that Friday, but I was listless, too. So I kind of thought her need to sleep reflected my need to sleep. But she didn’t eat that night (which is when we KNEW something was wrong). By Saturday morning, she had yellow inner ears, skin, and inner eyelids. I called our vet and we took her in ASAP. We found out she had something called hemolytic anemia, which is when the cat’s immune system turns on itself, and we have no idea what triggered it. Sometimes they can identify the culprit–fleas, ticks, vaccinations–but in many cases, like ours, they can’t find a reason why.

We had to take her to the emergency animal clinic, where she was admitted and stayed for two days. It killed me to leave her there with strangers, even ones who could care for her better than I. She had a blood transfusion to get her hemoblogin count up. I called several times a day, and we took in food and tried to feed her when they said she wasn’t eating. We finally sprung her on Monday afternoon, after basically camping out at the hospital because I knew she’d be better off at home.

So much for peace and quiet. Our last week was filled with twice a day meds (antibiotic pills and steroid syrup), trying to get her to eat and drink, making sure she went potty, and keeping her away from the other cats. I feel like all I did everyday was wash cat dishes, open cans, take up food, take down old food that was rejected, lather, rinse, and repeat.

The good news is that Blue is doing much, much better. Her hemoglobin count has risen to almost normal levels, which means her meds are working. She had lost 1.6 pounds within 48 hours at the vet hospital but has regained 1.4 (hooray!). Within about three weeks, once they taper her Prednisolone, we’ll know if she’s going to survive this. We have high hopes. Blue’s a super kitty.

In the meantime, other things have cropped up in my life–personal and professional–that put off any chance of peace and quiet for the near future (like, the crazy backdoor neighbors shooting rifle pellets through our brand new fence! But, hey, I made a new contact at the local police station when I filed my report. He’s a lieutenant with a 30-year background in law enforcement who’s agreed to be my consultant when I write my young adult thriller next year). My mother likes to say, “feast or famine,” and sometimes I think life just loves throwing us those “feast” curveballs to keep us on our toes.

You can understand why I didn’t go shopping on Black Friday. I didn’t want to chance being crushed.

So I guess I’ll take my calm when I can get it, in tiny snatches here and there. And perhaps I’ll put “peace and quiet” on my Christmas list and see what happens.

Ding Dong, Deadline Calling!

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As I write this, I’m down to the wire on my deadline for Little Black Dress, my tale of two sisters, a daughter, and a magical dress that changes all their lives forever. It’s something different for me after writing series mysteries, a YA nonmystery series, and contemporary women’s fiction. Little Black Dress mixes the past and the present (okay, with a pinch of mystery!), and it alternates between two very different voices.

I just finished proofing 300 pages after staying up late and working through the weekends to get this baby done. It’s weird how deadlines never seem that intimidating until, oh, about six weeks beforehand. That’s when you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have scheduled a fundraiser you’re spearheading that close to D-Day, and innumerable real-life crises rear their ugly heads (never fails).

It’s when you tell yourself, “Hey, this is life. Put on your big girl pants and deal with it.” Only that doesn’t keep the clock from ticking or that danged deadline from looming like Fraggle Rock (wait, that’s a kid’s show, right? Not very scary, huh?).

When I realized I had, oh, five chapters left last weekend, I went into panic mode, staying up way past my usual bed-time, working like a maniac (and, no, I don’t drink coffee!). It helps when hubby has a late night hockey game and doesn’t return until after midnight so I can write until he gets home and finds me with my face on the keyboard, QWERTY squished into my forehead. (All right, it never happened, but it was a constant threat.)

Ed has gotten used to seeing me in my pajamas 24/7, often with my hair sticking out like a rat’s nest. I would mumble inanely, “I swear, I’ll shower after dinner,” and then I’d disappear into my writing room and not emerge until 11 p.m., still a mess. But I would have gotten another chapter done.

If all goes well, by the time you read this deadline-itis inspired babble, I’ll be hitting “send” and turning in Little Black Dress to my agents and my editor at HarperCollins.

At which point, I plan to sleep for days, watch mindless HGTV, read the books stacked on my bedside table, eat chocolate, and pray that they don’t come back and say, “Er, Susan, that thing you sent us? It’s a pile of poo.” (Has anyone ever had that happen, God forbid?) And soon enough, I’ll have to do revisions, turn in a proposal for the next book, and get back to writing again. No rest for the wicked, eh?
With two books due in 2011, I should really take a spin in the nearest phone booth (er, if I can find one) and emerge in my super-powered, superhero suit, consisting of plaid flannel jammie pants, the “rock star” T-shirt Maggie gave me, fuzzy socks, and rat’s nest hair. “Ah-ha-ha,” I’ll say in my throaty–um, squeaky–voice, “I am Deadline Girl! Look out!”

Or else I’ll just take a nap.

Little Black Dress has been bumped up in the schedule and will now be out in June from HarperCollins instead of next fall (or, actually, May 17, 2011 if we’re being particular). You can already pre-order it online, which is kind of funny as of this moment, since I just finished writing it. Toodles and TGIF!!! –Susan

Peace, Love, and Chocolate

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by Susan McBride

In my last post I bemoaned Scrooges so my intention today was to write something filled with sugarplum fairies and sparkly snowflakes and “it’s the most wonderful time of the year” sort of things. Only it didn’t quite pan out. I blame it on The Fray. You see, I had my iPod on shuffle while I treadmilled, and The Fray’s “Over My Head” began to play, and I started thinking of how much there always is to do and how I so often feel like I’ll never keep on top of things. I don’t even have a January deadline this year (merely a proposal to write and my debut in women’s fiction coming out on January 26!). Still, all the things I’m working on behind the scenes–plus getting ready for the holidays–are enough to make me hyperventilate.

In fact, on Sunday while personalizing mailings to some of my favorite library peeps around Missouri, I had a near melt-down. It had just been one of those days…make that one of those weeks low-lighted by a very strange and surreal situation (let’s just say, some people don’t see the line between reality and fiction as clearly as others). Anyway, as I worked on the mailings, the cats kept racing across my desk, scattering paper and scaring me to death; and I kept messing up the letters, wasting toner and holiday stationery. Nothing life or death, but it was enough stress on top of stress that I popped. Luckily, Ed managed to talk me down quickly enough. Having dinner at my Mom and Dad’s also helped, as did trimming their tree and watching my three-year-old niece puke up blue frosting from a kiddie birthday party earlier in the day.

But it got me remembering how I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do this frantic routine anymore or worry about what I couldn’t control. During my breast cancer ordeal, I kept saying, “I will never let stupid s**t drag me down again. I will learn to take things slowly. I will accept that I can’t handle everything alone. I will let myself breathe.” Whoops. Somewhere along the road, when I got to feeling awfully close to back-to-normal, my attempt to be Zen fell by the wayside and my impatient must-do-a-million-things-every-minute side took over again.

The lovely Maggie mentioned in her post on Wednesday how she felt anxious after sending off her latest manuscript, only to remind herself that the most important things in life have nothing to do with reviews or online numbers. Having your health (especially after losing it for even an instant!), having a family who loves you, living your passion: these are what matter. How right she is (honestly, this Stiletto Gang is full of wise women–I have a long way to go in that department!).

So I’ve been reminding myself of the great philosophy that “whatever happens, happens.” Once I began to let go, the bad started fading away and the good took its place. On Monday, I heard from my agents and editor about a good review for The Cougar Club in Publishers Weekly (and the fab Misa has a nice review for Hasta La Vista, Lola in the same issue!). On Tuesday, I received even more amazing news (I’ll share it as soon as I’m able!). It was more proof to me that positive energy flows when I stop worrying and trying to control everything. You would’ve thought I’d learned by now that stressing myself out only harms me (and makes my family concerned). Nothing good comes of negativity. Period.

I do get it. I really get it. And since I’d like to keep it, I’m going to practice my mantra of “peace, love, and chocolate” during the Christmas holiday. I’m not even turning on my computer unless it’s absolutely urgent. I always feel so much calmer and more grounded when I’m fully in my “real-life” as opposed to when I’m doing my “crazed-author-trying-not-to-miss-a-beat” routine.
So in case I’m not around much in the coming week, I want to wish everyone a very happy holidays, whatever you celebrate. May you get off the Internet long enough to really enjoy your friends and family, read a good book or two, listen to music, or find a quiet space to think. And here’s hoping we all learn new ways to free stress from our lives in the year ahead. That’s one New Year’s resolution worth repeating!

P.S. On a very positive note, my kick-off event for THE COUGAR CLUB on January 26 will be a fundraiser for Komen St. Louis! I’d like to put some baskets together to raffle with signed copies of books by cool authors. If you’re an author and are willing to donate a book or two, please email me. And thanks in advance!