A Short Story Road Trip

The fact that I’d made no plans for a two-month long road trip that was “scheduled” to start next week should have been a warning. This Bliss Tour that I speak of - this adventure to the west, and then to the east, and then to farther places, to seek out those who can find their bliss, chase it, make it, never let it go - is finally going to start next week. Kinda.

I’d thought I’d have some time to plan last week, but instead I spent it hunkered down writing 6-8 hours a day to turn draft 0 of The Bliss Tour into a first draft that I can actually give to people to read. That is exciting. Extraordinary. Scary.

From Draft 0 to First Draft. Yippee!!

I’m an external-deadline-driven sort of person, so having to give something to a critique partner before I took off was pivotal in getting it done. And I did. I wrote “The End” at the end of a story. I was so happy I cried. It’s still a crappy first draft, but there’s a story there. I can finish it! I can polish it up so it’s not so crappy.

Meanwhile the the tour itself, I’d made no plans, I’d plotted no routes, I had not maps. I had done nothing to plan for this two month road trip. And when I started to plan... I found out that an epic road trip requires an awful lot of driving. Like seriously, going west from Austin is just hours and hours, days of driving through... not a whole lot. So, no.

Now here’s the plan: Next week I’m road tripping to Marfa, TX for a couple of nights. Staying in a safari tent and a trailer (the teepee was booked :( must plan ahead)! Then, instead of driving to California from there, later in June, I’ll fly to southern California and rent a car. From there I’ll make my way up to Vancouver, BC, then fly back to Austin. It’ll take about 2 weeks.

It’s less of an epic now, and more of a short story road trip.

Let’s see how long these plans last...

The House

A year ago I sold my house.

I loved that house. It was happiness in house form, bright yellow, a big smiley face of a house. It was the house from which Sunny D emerged, filled with possibilities and sunshine. It was everything I could want in a house.

The House

The anniversary passed without my noticing it.

Like any house, my house was an anchor, a leash that said “stay”. Stay where you are, same job, same life, a leash that would only let me stray so far before maintenance and repairs and home improvement projects pulled me back.

I had that familiar itch to do something else, go somewhere else, be something else. It was an itch I’d felt before, a seven-year itch for life itself, whether you’re married or not.

I knew I was making a sacrifice. I was giving up something I loved in hopes of getting something I could, would love even more. The sacrifice didn’t hit me until I’d closed. Until the shock of moving from a 3-bedroom, 2-bath, huge-gorgeous-kitchen-house to a 1-bedroom, 1-bath apartment in a large complex. I hated it. Like hate hate.

The Green Kitchen

I’d made a huge mistake. I was bitter, I was angry. When I heard the first thumps and bumps and strains of other people’s music coming into my apartment, when I realized there were only two drawers in the kitchen that took up half the living space.

I hated circling the street level parking, packed after work with the cars of those who wanted to park near their own apartments too. And when I had to give up, dear god, when I had to give up and park in the garage - a solid two minute walk from my apartment - I felt a bitterness I previously only held for cube life itself.

The Yoga/Craft Room

God, I loved that house.

I craved my house at every moment of learning this new space. And then I didn’t. I can’t remember when I started to forget what it was like to walk in the front door, put down my bag, walk up the stairs. The airiness of it, the openness of it. I rarely think about it now. I do miss having a house, but I don’t miss that house.

Selling that house was one of the best things I have ever done in my life. Selling it allowed me to take this sabbatical, The Bliss Tour. Now I have to make good my escape, stay off the leash.

RT: Bring Your SQUEE!!

Last year I went to my first RWA conference. It was a great experience, I met some amazing women, attended informal sessions about the craft and business of writing, and came home with dozens of books.

I didn’t really understand the difference between the RWA and RT gatherings. On paper, they seem remarkably similar: authors - published and fledgling - attending, informative sessions, and signings and big social events celebrating the romance, and in the case of RT, YA communities.

That’s on paper. In person I was stunned by how different the conferences are. RWA is about the business of romance: writing, publishing, and getting paid. There’s a reason it's called the “RT Booklovers Convention.” RT is about the reader, all about the SQUEE!!

However, I suck at fangirling. I have zero SQUEE!! game. Like none. My inherent shyness and lack of SQUEE!!, prevent me from rushing forward at the end of a session for the express purpose of saying “I love your books,” or getting books signed, or dear god, getting a photo taken with authors by the elevator.

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Even the elevators had good SQUEE!! Christina Lauren's Sweet Filthy Boy was the RT Book of the Year.

There’s some business and learning going on at RT but it’s mainly an opportunity to let booklovers (see: truth in advertising) meet the writers they love, have fun, and play games. Literally, play games.

RT has a ton of sessions where booklovers can play games hosted by the authors they love and win prizes. Some of the prizes are amazing; some lucky RT attendees went home with new iPads/tablets. But you have to play the games, which honestly, I avoided. I don’t excel at excitedly throwing up my hands or shouting out answers. I lack SQUEE!! on several levels.

Now that I understand what RT is, I know it’s not really for me. And that’s ok. I learned a lot in the craft sessions I did attended, I added authors to my TBR pile that I didn’t know before, but am now excited about, and I met up with some friends I’d met at RWA last year. That said, I would highly recommend attending RT to any demonstrative fan of the romance and/or YA genres. But bring your SQUEE!!

Trial Run

I’m headed to the RT Convention in Dallas in less than 12 hours. RT is a conference of booklovers, mostly romance and young adult readers, mostly women who are excited, ney, passionate about reading and books. So passionate that they travel thousands of miles just to gather with others to talk about books they love and meet the authors who write them.

I’m using this as a trial run for the Bliss Tour, when I hit the road in my little Subaru and seek out the blissed out. It’s not far away (Dallas is only about three hours from Austin, in theory) and I don’t have any interviews scheduled. But I still feel like it’s the Bliss Tour. I’ll be surrounded by people whose eyes roll back in their heads at the mention of a book they love.

I keep picturing these women as book-holding whirling dervishes in an ecstatic dance of faith and joy. I have no idea why I see that. Weird, right?

But I like it. I’m excited to go, excited to see everyone, hoping their book bliss will rub off on me so I can whirl too.

Routine

I’m reading Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey. Currey has collected over 150 routines and rituals of artists, musicians, writers and philosophers. It’s a fascinating read that I’m taking very slowly. Like a book of poetry, it shouldn’t be consumed in one gulp. Some of the artists are so disciplined as to be discouraging, while others are clearly insane. Which is also discouraging.

Jane Austin hid her work even from the servants. Every morning, Keirkegaard made his secretary choose his coffee cup and saucer from about 50 mismatched pieces. Then Keirkegaard made the poor man justify his choice! Many of the artists seem to have been hopped up on caffeine or booze or drugs. Reading about Patricia Highsmith, I’m sure that to her mind the plots of Strangers on a Train and The Talented Mr. Ripley were completely rational scenarios.

Trollope wrote before work because that was when he had the time. He worked at the General Post Office for 33 years and during that time he published two dozen books. “It was my practice to be at my table every morning at 5:30 a.m.; and it was also my practice to allow myself no mercy.” (pg 24)

While I worked, mornings were when I wrote, felt I could write. My stated routine for more than 6 years was to get up at 5:30am and be at my table to write at 6:00 a.m. But unlike Trollope, I allowed myself plenty of mercy.

Sometimes I didn’t make it to my table until 6:30. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes I did other things during this time of the day. If taxes needed to be done, most likely they were done at this time. Also, making time to write on the weekends was a crapshoot: errands, socializing, relaxing and getting ready for the coming work week, etc.

For the first couple of weeks after I stopped working, I still woke up at 5:30am. I’ve been getting up later and later, experimenting with being a night owl and staying up until 2:00am.

But this morning I was at my table, writing, at 7:00am. It felt right. My routine is still a work in progress.

Sabbatical-Day 36: Longer Than I Thought

I gave myself permission to accomplish absolutely nothing the first week after my last day of work . I realized I needed a “detox” from cube life. I read and watched TV and met up with friends. That’s it. That turned into two weeks. And then… well let’s just say that I’ve underestimated how long detoxing would take.

There was a week of being sick in there (it was either some sort of sore throat/coughing virus or allergies. It is Austin, so I’m leaning heavily toward allergies). Then the third week, I started writing again. Fiction, not blog posts. Obvs.

When I said I was giving myself permission to do nothing. I really meant nothing. But I’m cutting myself some slack. Not beating myself up. Doing a little self-compassion. So the “tour” part of the Bliss Tour hasn’t begun; it’ll start soon. Really, it will start soon. There’s only so much nothing I can do. I’ve only got a year here.

But I cannot tell you how much… fun – yes that’s the word – it’s been to do basically nothing but sit around reading, doing errands when it’s not crowded, kidnapping friends from work, going to crossfit a couple of times of week, and watching TV!

There’s a certain bliss in just doing nothing after decades of working. That’s what vacations sitting on the beach sipping silly drinks are all about. Detox. De-stress. De… -work? Yeah. I’m going to go with that. De-work.

When I said I was giving myself permission to do nothing. I really meant nothing. But I’m cutting myself some slack. Not beating myself up. Doing a little self-compassion. So the “tour” part of the Bliss Tour hasn’t begun; it’ll start soon. Really, it will start soon. There’s only so much nothing I can do. I’ve only got a year here.

TGIF, For Real

What does TGIF mean when you don't have a 9-5, Monday-Friday job? It means you wish TGIF to your friends who're still doing a 40 every week in cube land. You send them good vibes and joy knowing they'll have a tiny bit of freedom for a couple of days that will go by way too quickly.

Friday has become the day I make sure I get all of my errands done before the weekend. Doing errands during the week is mind blowing. I never knew. How could I? Parking isn't a problem, no bumper baskets in the store, and no lines at check out.

I've discovered, at least in Austin, the sweet spots for getting errands done during the week. Go to the grocery store Tuesday-Friday (they're out of everything on Mondays after the weekend rush), 9:30-11:30 and from a little after 2:00 to almost 4:00.

But it's not just grocery stores. Go to the Apple store on the weekend: it's a mass of humanity, you have to sign in to get someone to help you, you have plenty of time to play with the new products (I am not wearing a watch, btw, says the woman who will probably be wearing an Apple watch in three years and can't recall what she did without it). Go to get an iPad at 10:20am on a Tuesday morning: you're in and out in 20 minutes. That includes the whole set up thing and looking for a cover. Honestly I wanted to stay longer.

So TGIF my friends in cube life. T.G.I.F.

A Flurry at the End

For most of the day, Sabbatical Day 2 was much like Day 1 in that I did nothing. But then, a flurry of activity at the end of the day: crossfit (I am not good at it, although... I did 50 push ups. No not on my toes, but still, 50 freaking pushups! I won't be able to move my arms by the end of the day), and the Austin RWA meeting (really inspiring - Julia London talked about what she's learned in her almost 20 year career as a writer). Then I stayed up until 3am reading (so good!).

I realized this morning - Sabbatical Day 3 - that I've been afraid (is that the right word?) to sit at my desk at home. To sit there and write or do anything really. Too much like work, sitting at a desk? I've been doing everything on my laptop on the couch. Which is right next to the desk. But I sat here and wrote this. Then I went for a walk, in a park, in the middle of the day, on a weekday.

Sabbatical-Day 1: Meh

First day of my sabbatical, and it's... ok. It was fine. It feels like I called in sick and I'll have to go in at some point in the next few days. It hasn't sunk in that... I no longer have a job! I never (well at least for a year) have to go back into an office to work! I'm jobfree!

When was the last time I didn't have a job (and wasn't desperately looking for a job) or wasn't in school? What do I do? What's my relationship to sleeping (morning person or night owl?), eating (no one's going to randomly bring doughnuts to my place), shopping (for what?), chores (do not have to wait for the weekend!), people. People is the biggest one. Whom do I talk to all day? Everyone's at work! Thank god for chat.

It's weird. I'm not sure how to feel. But it's ok. I gave myself permission to do nothing this first week. Nothing. Totally decompress from any responsibilities (including showering apparently).

The first post is really about...

The idea for The Bliss Tour started about seven years ago when I'd completed a yoga teacher training program and had this fantasy of traveling the world teaching yoga - mostly on beaches.

A couple of years ago, I decided to turn that fantasy into a novel. In it, Penny Marlowe is a superstar yoga teacher and the host of a show on the Travel Channel called, you guessed it, The Bliss Tour. She travels around the world interviewing people about their bliss, what brings meaning to their life. This novel is still a work in progress. But I suspect I will have more time soon.

About nine months ago, I sold my house and made a tidy sum in the booming Austin, TX real estate market. Not crazy enough to buy in sellers' market, I sat on the tidy sum which soon started to call to me. "Why don't you travel some," it said. "Maybe even quit your job and take a year off." The tidy sum was persistent. "Maybe you should do your own Bliss Tour?

I put in two weeks' notice Monday. My first stop on The Bliss Tour? Austin, TX, where I've lived for 12 years.