First of all: I’m happy to announce that after MUCH finagling with Amazon, my short sci-fi story “Robot Pony” is now FOREVER-FREE on Kindle and Nook. Also, keep your eyes open, because there just might be another book going on sale this week…just sayin’!
When her older sister doesn’t get the kind of pony she asked for on Christmas morning, Jenn and her father assemble the rejected gift that soon becomes one of Jenn’s best friends: a robotic pony named Po.
But when their friendship is threatened by a factory recall of the robot ponies, Po has to decide how he wants his friend to remember him: by shrugging off the loss of a defective toy, or by grieving the death of a true friend.
Now, onto other things. I’m just gonna ramble a bit here.
I have gone through some changes lately–mental, emotional, spiritual…and physical. While some of these changes have been in progress for years, the physical changes have been more recent. All my life I’ve had a love for coloring my hair strange colors, but since “adulthood” set in (like some kind of disease!) I’ve backed away from anything too adventurous.
Then there was the accidental-black-hair-fiasco of 2012, and everything changed. I was stuck with black hair, and in an attempt to remove the color without damaging my hair, I accidentally stripped the color down to the roots. Not a whole lot, but definitely not my natural hair color. So my choice was: mostly black hair with golden roots and then let my natural dark auburn hair grow in (talk about adventurous?), or GO ALL OUT.
I think you know what I chose to do.
Over the course of the last few months I made the decision to attempt pastel hair. This involved A LOT OF BLEACH. I think I bleach/bleach bathed my hair about ten times before it was anywhere near light enough to tone, and even at that I could not tone it to white like the internet promised I would be able to. But, since my hair was starting to feel like melty plastic when it was wet, I decided I had bleached it as much as I could, and that pale blonde was good enough.
Being blonde was weird. I have never in all my life been blonde. I have been a proud brunette and occasional redhead, but never, ever blonde. It made me feel like a totally different person. Well, it also did that because, just about the same time that I went full blonde-mode, I cut off ten inches of my hair. I went from under-the-boob-length to barely-touching-the-shoulders-length in one day.
All my life I’ve been a long-haired girl for the most part. Long hair is safe hair. It looks good on pretty much everyone. And I knew that if short hair looked bad on me I would have to deal with that for months and months as it grew out. I also knew that I was sick of giving a damn about what “looks good on me.” I wanted short hair because long hair is hard work, clogged drains, and frankly it was just boring.
I just got my hair cut again, a little shorter. I think it’s great. It’s certainly not as “pretty” as long hair was, but it’s fun. And I think fun is more important than pretty, but that’s just me.
So right now I have Season 7/8 Dana Scully hair in pastel blue/purple/pink, and I’m feeling pretty good about it.
What does this have to do with writing, you may be asking? Nothing. And everything.
Caring about what other people think as opposed to what you want can have a severe stunting effect on your ability to express yourself. It can and will negatively affect the way you choose to live your life if your concern is more about what other people think is right as opposed to what you feel is right for you. And that can be very, very uncomfortable–I believe it is the suppression and disapproval of who we really are that is the true cause behind a lot of depression and anxiety. But we have every right to celebrate and love who we are.
As most of you know, I was fired from my job of 3 years last spring and chose to make a go of self publishing. A lot of people that I really respect do not think this was a good choice. I haven’t made a ton of money from it, but I’m happy with my choice. I’m happy with it because it’s in alignment with what I want from life–I want to create, and I do, and I want to share those creations with the world, and I can. This is an amazing time to be an artist. Opportunities for expression and sharing are boundless, and supportive communities are more accessible than ever before.
I am lucky to know some of the bravest and most talented people in the world, and to have them in my creative support network. I am lucky to live in this age of information and sharing. I am lucky to live in this time of upheaval and change. Call me crazy, but I think life is supposed to be fun–life is supposed to be an adventure. I like that there is no clear-cut path. I like that things have changed, and are changing.
Yes, I love the self-publishing model. Yes, I still want a traditional book deal. But I’m not stopping with my forward momentum–I’m not waiting around for 100% assurance of success. I love my new haircut, and I will love when I someday have long hair again. Neither one of those hairstyles guarantees to be pretty or fun. It’s all in what you make of it.
Was that the worst metaphor ever? DON’T CARE HAHAHAHA.
And now I’m off to write…
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