The New Neighborhood

One of the challenges of my new apartment is my reliance on the car to get me around. This has taken some getting used to. I'd spent the last 8 years being within walking distance to shopping and the BART line, which allowed me a great deal of linear independence. Now, I have a more radial sense of mobility, but it's limited to when I have access to the vehicle. This means, when the Professor has the car for work, I'm essentially marooned here. 

I admit, I was starting to get a little stir crazy. Twice a week may not seem like much, but when you're all alone in an apartment ALL DAY (the Prof works late) without so much as a pet, it can get a little isolating. Today, I couldn't take the prospect of spending another gorgeous, sunny day trapped in my apartment alone. So, rather than doing my usual Qi Gong exercise video in my living room, I strapped on my kicks, packed a snack, and headed out my door...

...and look what I found!

I'd seen on maps that we're close to the border of Wildcat Canyon Regional Park, and I'd seen some cryptic signs nearby stating "Park Closed" hours, but I'd never found the access to the park. Today, I stumbled upon it during my adventure walk. 

I enjoyed my snack while perched on a boulder, listening to the burble of the creek and the rustle of the wind through the eucalyptus leaves. Now, I've never been much of an outdoor person, but the fresh air and sunshine was seriously like a antidote to the craziness, and I felt my mind still. It was lovely.

After my snack, my explorations took me up into Alvardo Park proper, which is a neat place with stone walls, picnic areas, and wide, sunny fields. I foresee some serious toes-in-the-grass time once the weather gets even warmer.

The best part was, I had most of the area to myself. There were a few young mothers with their children, and a man with his little dog, but on the whole I could explore in peace. Odd to say, since it was solitude that drove me out of the apartment, but it's different when you're out in nature. I didn't feel alone...I felt connected to the web of life in a way that I hadn't in a long time.

Now that I know it's there, I think afternoon walks in the park are going to become part of my regular routine. Having this nearby sure beats a shopping center any day of the week!

(Cancer) Sticks and (Kidney) Stones

The universe strives for balance.

It's one of those fundamental things I believe. For every good thing that happens, something bad does. I'm not talking about causality, per say. The balancing force may come in a completely different form.

Take this weekend, for instance. On Friday night, I was looking forward to a quiet couple of days, and told my brother so as we chatted over Xbox LIVE. He, on the other hand, was gearing up for a rip-roaring weekend promoting his two comics at the new Image Expo in Oakland. Usually, I'm right in the thick of a con, slinging my films and comics, but I wasn't up to it this time.

This decision was especially hard to make since I knew Norman Reedus was going to be in the Image Expo house. Actually, it's he who helped me make the decision. Every time I meet an actor I admire, it just goes badly (someday I'll tell you the Dean Stockwell story. Today is not that day.). As a huge Boondock Saints fan, Norman is one of my favorite actors, and I knew that meeting him in person would invariably lead to disaster. So, I decided to do everyone a favor and steer clear.

The man elevates smoking to an art form...

So, before I logged off for the night, I jokingly asked my brother, "Hey, if you happen to bump into Norman, do me a favor. Bum a smoke from him for me."

"I'll try," he chuckled.

It was a throw away comment, really, and I put it completely out of my mind. I went to bed that night looking forward to a day of working on my novel. Professor Lefty was looking forward to having some friends over for band practice and board games. Pretty normal.

Things began to go awry when I was woken up at 8 a.m. by the Professor lurching out of bed to race to the bathroom to be sick. I figured it was just a bug, until he came staggering back to bed. He was pale and clammy, and he squirmed in agony, moaning that his whole abdomen hurt. When he uttered the magic words "kidney pain," I knew it was time to call his Dad, who had spent a good part of his life as an ER doc.

The poor Professor got sick twice more during the course of the 10-minute phone call, and the Doc confirmed my fears: I had to take the Professor to the emergency room. It wasn't a bug that was making his sick, it was the pain, which meant either his appendix or a kidney stone.

Well. Good thing I'd gotten my driver's license two months ago.

I instantly went into crisis mode: jammies off, jeans on. Gather important papers, keys, and wrangle the ailing husband into the car. I calmly drove him to the nearest Kaiser hospital, registered him in, and soothed him through the agonizing minutes between when we arrived and when he got treated. (I have to say, the staff at Kaiser Richmond's ER were crackerjack. We were in good hands.)

I've been with the Professor for 15 years. I've nursed him through motorcycle accident sprains and scrapes, impromptu hand surgery, and the aftermath of a near-fatal car accident. I'd never seen him in so much pain before, and all I could do was hold his hand and wait for the doctors to do their thing. I admit, it was scary.

What he said it felt like...

After some pain meds and tests, the doctors determined that yep, it was a kidney stone. A small one, only 3 mm, but enough so that the Prof had felt like he was being torn apart from the inside. Feeling much better after the drugs kicked in, he was discharged with a passel of medicine in hand.

...what it really was.
Photo from Wikimedia Commons.

After a brief nap of relief for the both of us, the rest of my day was spent in Florence Nightingale mode: going to the store for supplies, updating worried friends and family via text and phone, making jell-o and soup, cleaning up the mess we'd left in the wake of our morning flight. I didn't think twice about anything that I'd missed. I was just so relieved my husband was okay.

I finally called my brother around 8 p.m. I hadn't wanted to throw off his convention mojo, so I left him out of the initial round of calls. My folks had told him what had happened, however, and after I filled him in on the details, I asked him about the con.

"Well," he said, "you know that thing you asked me to get?"

"Yeah?"

"I got it."

"No way."

He did it! Well, to be fair, he and his friend/partner-in-comics Jackson did it. Jackson has cerebral palsy, as well as a hell of lot of charisma (he's a stand-up comedian) and a brass pair. He has a way of getting past the velvet rope, and his wheelchair is autographed by bad-ass celebrities including the guys from Slipknot, and now, my favorite Boondock Saint.

Norm at Image Expo. Picture by Xander Kent.

While Jackson was getting his chair signed, Xander noticed Norman was wearing a Stone Brewing Co. patch on his jacket. Xander, being an Escondido boy, promptly pointed it out, and Norm and he were instant buds. Even got the bro-hug. In this moment, Xander remembered my request. He told Norman I was a big fan and how much it would mean to me to bum a smoke. After a moment's thought, Norman graciously acquiesced.

The Stone Brewery patch! Photo by Xander Kent.

When Xander told me, I seriously teared up. It was kind of too much. After a day filled with so much real-world fear and uncertainty, to get such good fangirl news was a bit overwhelming. Not just that I finally had a little token from an actor who has meant so much to me, but that my brother was still thinking of me even at the height of his own fanboy glee.

Norman Reedus's cigarette. Photo by Xander Kent.

So, yeah. It was an amazingly good thing following closely on the heels of a startlingly bad thing. I know one didn't have anything to do with the other at all, but this is the subtle balance of the universe at play in my life. Kinda glad it doesn't happen all to often.  

As for the Professor, he's doing much better. No pain, though no stone. If you have any to spare, please send some good vibes his way. He could sure use 'em!

Name Game

What's in a name? Quite a lot. As someone who's lived with a long, unusual moniker her whole life, I tend to be more hyper-aware of my name than other folks.

You might have noticed a change or two around this blog. First off, I've decided to drop the "Bloody Good Stories" label. In all honesty, it just wasn't ringing true for me. Though much of my work is rooted in the horror genre, I'm starting to branch out into other fields. I don't want to invest in a name that will ultimately limit my vision as a creator. When I find the right label, I'll know.

Which leads to my second -- and much more personal -- change. Though I still am and will remain a happily married woman, the whole hyphenated "Windham-Kent" last name was just too much for my already long name to take on. So, after much soul-searching, I've decided to go back to being simply "Sherezada Kent."

I know it's a strange thing to do, but it's what's right for me. I really thought I'd get used to it, but after over a year it still felt weird, like I was wearing the wrong size shoes. I'm still keeping it legally ('cause I am NOT going through the gauntlet of bureaucratic bullshit again), but everything else I create from this point will be under my "short," sweet name...

...until I decide to change my name to a symbol.

Tabula Rasa

The very first things I unpacked in my new apartment.

All the boxes are finally unpacked, and my new apartment is set up pretty much as I want it. There's something so poetic about starting a new year in a new home, especially one that's a much-needed upgrade. What's even more exciting about this place is that I actually have an honest-to-goodness office space! It still needs a bit of setting up, but all the important bits are there: computer, printer/scanner, my trusty Nightmare Before Christmas block calendar.

Even with all the good changes, it's still taken some getting used to. Everything is completely different now. The new apartment is off the BART line, which means I actually have to put my new driving skills to work on a near-daily basis.

They see me rollin', they hatin'...

It's taken a bit of time and practice, but I'm finally to the point where I actually find driving fun. I know most drivers got over the thrill when they were teenagers, but I still get a rush each time I hit over 30 mph with my music on the stereo. The world feels so open to me now, even if I am just bipping around town doing errands.

So, yeah. New apartment, new driving skills, and soon, new projects. Spring will come sooner than expected, and I still have some hefty pre-production and budget building to do before I can come up with a concrete funding and production plan for my new short film, Inner Critic. After all the domestic madness, I'm really looking forward to getting back to work again.

Holiday's End and Sac-Con 2011 Re-Cap

The holiday storm is over. The air is still, the shops are empty. I feel a bit like that woman at the end of The Descent, clawing her way out of hell...

Okay, really, my holidays were not even close to being as bad as a cave of horrors (though Xmas shoppers can occasionally resemble a horde of blind, bloody-thirsty monsters). There was an epic drive up and down California, and some serious good times with my family amid a flurry of wrapping paper. I even got to reconnect with some old friends from high school that I hadn't seen in years. I truly got what I wanted for Xmas this year.

Amid all the festivities, I failed to notice my Sac-Con 2011 re-cap up at the Red Stylo Media website. If you're curious to see the world's cutest little Marcus Fenix (as well as see how the show went) give it a read!

I wish I could say 2011 was going to end on a mellow note, but there would be no fun in that. After nearly nine years of living in the same apartment, the husband (aka Professor Lefty) and I are upgrading to new digs. The next few days will be a rush of sorting, packing, tossing, and schlepping. New year, new home!

Sac-Con 2011

One last convention before the year comes to a close! I'll be at Sac-Con this weekend, reppin' Red Stylo Media as well as Everything I Needed to Know About Zombies I Learned From the Movies.

Sac-Con: Comic, Toy, and Anime Show

Sacramento, CA 

Sunday, December 11, 10am-5pm

Scottish Rite Center

6151 H Street

Sacramento, CA 95819

Come do some geeky X-mas shopping and pick up a copy of Poe Twisted if you haven't already! It's the perfect gift for that indie comic or horror literature lover in your life. 

Seems a bit appropriate that we end the year in Sacramento. It's the heart of California's gold country, which was the setting of Eldorado. Perhaps I'll see the ghost of the Rider and his horse in the hills...

Tips to Stay Creatively Focused

Creativity is a process. A really messy process. Even if your primary tool is a neat, clean laptop your mind can still be as chaotic as one of Jackson Pollock’s paintings.

Some days, I come to the keyboard with fingers itching with words, my characters already whispering to me. Others days, I’ll find something – anything at all -- to distract me from my writing: “Ooh, look! Filing to be done! Laundry that needs folding! A junk drawer to clean out! Maybe I should start on my taxes now…”

 

I know I’m not alone in doing this. But in those moments, I feel pretty damn alone. Like I’m the only writer who has ever avoided doing what they love most, just because it’s…well, too darn hard to harness all that chaotic energy into concrete words.

I’ve been working harder at focusing that energy, though. It’s been a challenge, but I feel like I’ve made some real strides forward. I’ve been churning out more pages, and on the whole I’ve felt so much more balanced and centered.  

I thought I’d share some of my findings. I’m no “creativity expert,” but I thought some of these suggestions might be helpful to other writers out there…if nothing else so you don’t feel like you’re the only one who suffers through these spells!

Tips to Stay Creatively Focused

1. Write only what you truly love. If it makes your heart sing, you will find the time to write it. If you don’t really want to tell the story, you’ll find a way to avoid doing it, no matter how “good” or “marketable” you think it could be.

2. Create a schedule for yourself. This is especially important if you work from home. Having a structure will help you create the mental space you need to sit down and create. “1-5pm is writing time. The laundry will still be there after 5pm.” If you have other obligations, carve out a little regular time for yourself, even if it’s only a few hours each week. You need that mental permission, or you’ll always find “more important” things to do.

3. Exercise regularly. I’m realizing that I write best on the days I’ve stuck to doing my daily Qi Gong stretches. It gets the blood flowing through the brain, and burns off some of the antsy energy that plagues you.

4. Don’t be afraid to do something else. Maybe the words just aren’t coming, but you’re still itching to create something. That’s okay. Sometimes working in a different medium can help you get unstuck. It shifts your thinking onto new paths, and can present new answers. Tear up some old magazines and make a collage of images that inspire you to think of your story. Bake something that one of your characters would like. Paint something in colors you find inspiring. It’s never a waste of time to create something.

5. Hang out with other creative types. It helps to talk to people who know what you’re going through. They’ll understand the frustration of creator’s block, and the elation of artistic break-throughs. I’m lucky to have a network of friends and family that ooze creativity from every pore, and after I hang out with them I come away enlivened and energized to tackle my own projects. If you don’t personally know creative folks, join a writer’s circle or forum online (there are numerous ones, some specifically geared towards different genres), or find a group through MeetUp.com.  

6. Believe that your writing is important. Sadly, it’s doubtful your short story will solve world hunger or fix the global economy or even make you enough money to pay your phone bill. But it will make you happy to write it. That is enough. Even if no one reads your story, your life will be better for you having taken the time to write it. When you’re happy, you carry that with you, and it touches others around you. Thus, your writing does help make the world a better place. 

And hey, if someone reads your story, you'll have brought a little something new into their lives. Whether that's a smile on their face or a chill down their spine, you'll have touched them, even for a moment. That’s what I hope for as a writer, and sometimes it's that thought that keeps my butt in my seat and my fingers on the keyboard.