Where’s Lynn?

Hello, all!

It’s been a while; more than a while. I should probably take this moment to at least give you a bit of an update.

Hubs and I just celebrated two years of marriage last month. (Two years! Can you believe it?!) I’ve inevitably switched to drinking tea instead of coffee on the regular like the anglophile that I am. Currently, I’m unemployed, and you know how the hubs developed epilepsy in 2020? Well, last year, we found out my sister is narcoleptic.

Crazy, right?

Thus, what you can correctly assume from just that tiny bit of information, life has been a bit of a whirlwind since I got married. I go back that far because it genuinely feels as if I haven’t devoted any attention to this website and blog since. I feel as if I am the one trying to catch up to wherever you all are, dear readers, and for that I’m sorry.

I am sorry. Truly.

I realised for those who do read this blog, I should be more consistent. You read because you want to, and despite my own self-doubts or unbelief—I haven’t written with that in mind in the past. Though, to be fair to myself, I think writing what I did, writing for me, was enough, was sufficient, to begin. In a way, I know I needed to do that to find my footing with this…thing. What I want to do moving forward is find a way to continue writing for myself whilst “harnessing”, if you will, your interest, but I digress.

For the more curious among you, I will give the barest of updates because it does lead me to an announcement I wish to make regarding my blog, but forewarning—this may get a bit lengthy. (You can jump ahead past the updates, though. Scroll down to “Announcement” if that’s you.)

Let me go back, if you will allow it, to the beginning of 2020.

“It seems your husband has…”

I know none of us want to remember that infamous year, but I have this premonition I never explicitly explained what happened to us before COVID hit in March.

Essentially, three weeks after the wedding in mid-January, when we were in the middle of moving into our new apartment—my husband slipped and fell on the ice, suffered a concussion, which resulted in him being eventually diagnosed the following September with epilepsy.

That’s the short version. Believe me when I say I am sparing you from the brutal, gory details.

I honestly didn’t really notice COVID happening because I was a bit preoccupied with taking care of my husband. Baruch Hashem, he does not suffer from grand mal seizures, otherwise I cannot imagine how much more stressful and challenging that year would have been. With his diagnosis of epilepsy in September, we also simultaneously changed treatments and he has been [mostly] stable ever since. B”H. Though it’s still a daily battle of making sure he’s safe, that he won’t get triggered, my husband has been seizure free for six months now. B”H.

Honestly, I feel like our version of adjusting to him having epilepsy is mild compared to some of the other stories I’ve heard, and I am beyond grateful to Hashem we were able to find and obtain treatment so quickly. Doesn’t negate the frustrations and pain we endured along the way, especially as newlyweds, but I do want to emphasize there are many others out there who aren’t as lucky as us in finding treatment, stability, and the capability to return to a mostly normal functioning lifestyle.

You can learn more about epilepsy, how it affects those who suffer from it, how to provide first aid to anyone who either suffers from a seizure or who has epilepsy, or donate towards medical research here at the Epilepsy Foundation’s website.

Not This Again

And then 2021 happened, and in the middle of gaining some stability with my husband’s epilepsy, we were thrown the most unexpected curve ball: my sister was diagnosed with type 1 narcolepsy, formerly known as narcolepsy with cataplexy.

Similar to my husband, she started displaying symptoms in February, and only received her official diagnosis two weeks ago, which is unheard of for narcolepsy patients. Usually it takes, on average, two years for a proper diagnosis because it can be mistaken for so many other disorders. We even wondered if she was suffering from seizures like my husband, their symptoms were so similar at times. The ongoing theory is she suffered from multiple conditions occurring at once, which we only discovered through managing with medications because like my husband, her tests would come back normal. Fun!

As some of her symptoms became regulated, we [doctors and us] ruled out possibilities on our too long list, narrowing it down bit by bit. I think, though, my sister studying to become an astroparticle physicist (yes—studying to be the next Stephen Hawking or Brian Cox and battling narcolepsy simultaneously in the middle of a pandemic), and thus knowing how to read medical journals and discuss them with her physicians, helped her fight for a diagnosis sooner than most. Not that any of us wanted her to be a narcoleptic, but we all were exhausted with not having any answers, especially my husband and I who had endured that rodeo only the year before.

Unfortunately, there is still little known about narcolepsy, and thus there is nowhere I can point you in the direction of to learn more or donate for the sake of funding research except a generic Google search.

My husband and sister are two of the most brilliant minds I have ever met. Both of them are known for the intellect—they have that deep, disarming stare which makes people feel uncomfortable when meeting them—and I marvel at how incredibly they see the world and its wonders. They’ve kind of become buddies, both being scientifically inclined before, and now bonding from their shared, unique health experiences. For me, most of the pain I endured was watching these two brilliant minds suffer, as that entity of themselves which had always defined huge portions of their identities, in a sense, attacked them. It’s a horrible thing to witness, to be powerless to stop and control it. Maybe you can understand why, now, I’ve been a bit silent; err…at least inconsistent.

Of course, much less severe than either of them, we learned last year that I’m extremely anemic, which explained a lot of my subsequent fatigue and other issues which arose. Though it did not take nearly as long for me to recover, it was frustrating on my part because not only could I not take care of either my husband or sister for a while, but I felt like some ludicrous gothic heroine wasting away in her bed with a headache.

We are, all of us, fine now. Though, if there’s one thing these collective experiences have revealed, especially in lieu of the pandemic, is how we often doubt our own symptoms. My sister and I have often commented to each other how we wonder if we’re faking our symptoms, if it’s just in our heads, or if we really are experiencing what we feel in our bodies to be “off” or “wrong” or “abnormal”. I won’t divulge more of those thoughts now because this post has already elongated enough, and I promised an announcement, but I will conclude this portion by saying I think like many of us who have taken these moments of seeming quiet, at least forced, to reflect and reevaluate what truly matters to us in this life—some of us are now prioritising our health when before it was allowed to suffer, whether it be physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. For those of you who are now prioritising your health, who are still trying to navigate the waters of, “Is this selfish? Or do I really need this?” I’m right there with you, and will probably be writing about it more in the posts to come.

“YoU’Re uneMPLOYed!?”

One of the things I severely needed to reevaluate last year was my job.

Some of you may recall me mentioning my “day job”, or even more specifically I worked for a government entity. Well, I can now tell you I quit. It boils down to the simple answer that first, my family’s health became a higher priority than before, and my employer rejected my request for accommodation when what I asked for was highly reasonable, approved by my immediate supervisor, and improved my productivity; second, I was sick of their political, bureaucratic BS, which came to a head during the pandemic, revealed through their responses to it; third, I realized the peanuts I earned from what they called a paycheck could easily be made in any other position. There are more details to the events leading up to my resignation, but ultimately, let’s just say there were decisions made by executive administration that left me feeling like the six years I’d given them were worthless. Not exactly a great feeling.

It feels liberating to finally get that off my chest and announce it to the world.

More importantly, though, my husband, who loves what he does and enjoys his career, started getting onto me for my endless kvetching about how much I hated my job. In short, he would say, “You’re miserable, and I hate it because it makes me miserable.” Furthermore, he has witnessed the many tears I’ve shed in wanting to find a way to write full-time.

As I said before, though, I’m full of self-doubt and unbelief, lacking sorely in confidence. Not to be too self-deprecating, but I believe this is what people are now calling “imposter syndrome”? Still unclear on what that actually is. Regardless, in my time at my former employment, I watched several of my employees leave to pursue their dreams, often wondering when it would be my turn, when I would feel brave enough to dare the risk of unemployment for the sake of pursuing my own dream.

Well, considering the fact that I quit my job, thinking I would find employment elsewhere to continue helping my husband earn a household income, and that for some reason or another I have yet to persuade any of the hiring mangers I’ve interviewed with they should hire me since I’m their best candidate—here I am. Blogging.

Of course, I feel reckless. Of course, I feel absolutely stupid I would do such a foolish thing like quitting my job when there are bills to pay and I have to be an adult and, and, and…

However, as my husband keeps reminding me, I was miserable. And I’ve been extremely happy since.

I hope you all realise by now how ruthlessly stubborn I can be, and how more times than not, it blinds me from seeing the opportunity quite literally staring me in the face. Thus, trying not to look this gift horse anymore in the mouth, I have realised Hashem has given me a wonderful opportunity to pursue what I have always dreamed: to write.

What you’re really here for: The Announcement

Now let me preface what I’m about to announce with a, “I will not be doing this full-time (yet).” That entirely depends both on you, my dear readers, and my consistency. I’ve not lost all my pragmatism, so I am still looking for a job to have a steady income in the interim. However, with the support of both my unfathomable husband and you, my readers, I am making the commitment to strive towards writing full-time.

What does this mean, then, for this blog? Well, a few things, and since I like lists, they are:

1. Start consistently blogging again;
2. Obtain my Woodneath Story Center Written Storytelling Certificate;
3. Finish my new manuscript in progress [WIP] (not directly blog related, but I will probably write about it here, and it is about writing in general, so…);
4. Monetize my blog.

Essentially, I’m leveling up from being a blog hobbyist to treating it like my own personal business.

STEP #1: CONSISTENCY

Right now, the idea I have is to write a blog post every other week, or biweekly. Those will be about whatever I feel like writing about, whatever I’ve been musing over recently, and I’m thinking of posting them either on Tuesdays or Wednesdays. If you have a preference on a day of the week, leave a comment below and I’ll poll the results. Also, if you want more content or have an idea in mind for specific content you want to see more of, let me know in the comments below! If you’re one of those readers who wants to read this blog, I want to know! And when it seems like I’m slacking off, give me a nudge by reaching out. I want this to become more of a symbiotic relationship.

In addition to that, I will also start my “WOMS” again, the “What’s on my Shelf” book review posts I was writing before life sidelined it for too long. I will say that you will see a change in genre and age because lately I’ve grown exhausted with YA fantasy, and have switched to historical mysteries, mostly cozy mysteries. This is also because of point #3, but I have to tell you about point #2 first!

STEP #2: ACQUIRE CERTIFICATE

Last August, I attended a local chapter of Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators “meet and greet” social. Big step for me as I think the last writing event I attended was the KU Jewish Fantasy Symposium in Lawrence, KS back in 2018. Whilst there—since I shared I might be an adult writer, not YA like I initially thought; more on that to come—a fellow writer mentioned this place called The Story Center at a place named Woodneath after some old family who owned the house in which it’s based. First thing I did the next day was look it up, and by golly it I signed right up for their written storytelling certificate programme. Here’s why…

The Story Center is a part of the Mid-Continent Public Library here in the Greater KC area, and they offer free creative writing classes (or oral storytelling if that’s more your style) to anyone and everyone. That’s right. FREE. Thanks to their partnership with the local Metropolitan Community College and the Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation, and their sole purpose is to help storytellers, like myself, “Identify, craft, and market your original stories.” One of my most recent classes was with superstar blogger and author Jen Mann on “How to Blog,” which only solidified for me my determination to start consistently blogging again; just to give you an idea on some of the content they provide. They even have their own printing press and offer select publication to local writers, operating through a library-as-publisher model.

Thanks to how the world has become more virtual in the past two years, The Story Center, which once was only open to local library members, is now available online for anyone in the world to participate. If you are like me and you know you’re a storyteller, but have no idea where to begin, I highly recommend their classes, especially in pursuit of either certificates they offer. You can learn more about their certificate programmes and how to sign-up here. They even have critique groups for writers or orators you can join as well. Check it out!

Now I can tell you about point #3.

STEP #3: FINISH MANUSCRIPT

My new WIP is a historical murder mystery based on the story of Purim, i.e. Queen Esther [Hadassah], and it takes place in the 1920s, leading up to the rise of Nazi Germany, at a masquerade ball. It will be like Indiana Jones, Miss Fisher, Purim, with a dash of a Scottish 007. There’s a secret society, a stolen jewel believed to be cursed, and a missing person—all whilst our heroine tries to discover whodunnit.

I’m really enjoying writing this, and I think it is the balm I’ve needed to get back into the swing of things. Not that I don’t love my fantasy world, but after as many years as I’ve been trying to publish it and continue writing other stories within that mythopoeia, I’ve realised that it’s just not for everyone. It’s a very niche manuscript. Not a lot of people want to read a high, epic fantasy with Jewish themes written in an extremely British-esque passive voice reminiscent of the classics like Tolkien and Lewis. (That is actually how someone in my writing critique group described my manuscript, and I could have easily just said, “That’s enough. I don’t need to publish it. Someone gets it. I can move on now.” Except I still really want to publish it for the other niche readers who I dare to imagine would salivate over something like my manuscript is. Thus, I’m not giving up on it.) I’m still querying it to agents and indie publishers, but for now, if it doesn’t get picked up by anyone, I’m not fretting I’m doomed to failure as I was.

STEP #4: BEG…err, MONETIZE!

Speaking of failure, I think my greatest fear holding me back all these years, perpetuating my misery, was not earning an income, or the lack of income I would face if I pursued my writing. Most writers cannot sustain a livelihood off their writing alone. Many have “day jobs” they maintain for the sake of paying the bills. This is where I say an overdue Baruch Hashem that He gave me a husband who not only believes in me and my writing, but is willing to earn the income for our household so that I might pursue my dreams.

It is risky, especially considering how his new-ish health condition puts him at greater risk in his industry as a carpenter. (Power tools and ladders and driving, oh my!) That is why as I redevelop and dust the cobwebs off my website and blog, I will be taking steps to monetize it to earn some income to help offset as much pressure as I can from him. (I’m also going to start auditioning for paid singing gigs, too, but that’s off topic.)

I will probably become an affiliate of some kind, but that does not mean any of my readers will need to subscribe or pay to read this blog. The content of this blog will stay free to you to read at will. What I may also do is rehash and tweak my Patreon account where I would post subscriber only content. Most of you know the drill.

Thus, here’s the uncomfortable part: if you have been one of those readers who has been with me from the beginning, who has been aggravated at my lack of consistency and has been wondering where the heck I was this entire time—now you know, so would you please consider giving to help support me as I pursue this new lifestyle, this dream I have? (See Patreon link in right side panel.)

All I can offer at this time is my promise to give you consistent content on this blog and the occasional book review. As I continue dusting the cobwebs off all these accounts, especially my Patreon, I will most likely campaign more often for donations, but only if I am able to provide consistent, exclusive content regarding my writing journey towards publication because let’s face it—I’m a fiction writer. One day I hope you’ll be holding my book in your hands.

Will you come on this journey with me?

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