New short story published! “Diary of a Mad Scientist”

Hello, readers,

Today I woke up with an idea brewing in my head, and I turned it into a short concept piece, “Diary of a Mad Scientist”, available now on Smashwords for free. It chronicles the thought processes of a bipolar scientist who is not certain if she is receiving messages from the future. Is she? Or is it all just another bizarre dream?

I plan to expand upon this in future- there’s lots of room for adding in a bit more of the bipolar experience, and for things like character development. But for now, please enjoy this very short story.

I’m especially pleased since I’ve had writer’s block for quite a long time,  and I’m hoping this heralds the beginning of more new work.

Spoons in service of Hillary Clinton

Hello, readers!

I made a reference to “spoon theory” in my last post- because I myself, while I don’t look sick, often am tired and lethargic and unable to do a lot once I’m home from my full-time job. Lucky for me, my full-time job ended! Today was my last day. From now on, it’s just a few hours a week here and there. I’m mostly on “vacation”!

I put “vacation” in quotes because I’ll be visiting my husband for several months in Ohio, and I’ve decided to marshal my energy once again for something important. I did consider spending a lot of time writing, but this seems far more urgent. No, Ohio is a battleground state for US Presidential Election votes, and I am going to volunteer for Hillary Clinton’s campaign to make sure she has as good a shot as possible at winning Ohio. I can’t vote for her- I’m Canadian- but I will help her campaign. I can’t afford a lot of money so I’m going to volunteer.

I realize this will make me very uncomfortable- they have things for volunteers to do like knocking on doors and phoning people, stuff that makes an introvert like me very nervous- but I’m willing to step outside my comfort zone to do this. Never in my life have I been more afraid of someone getting elected to high political office than I am now of Donald Trump’s candidacy for US President.

I hope if you are in the United States, or an American living abroad, that you will do what you can to make sure Donald Trump is never elected.

One more week of counting spoons

My full-time hours at my paying job cease at the end of next week! I’m very pleased- in October and afterward I will be working part time for my current boss, remotely on an as-needed basis. This comes as a welcome relief. I’m lucky enough that I am being supported by my husband at the moment, and my income can be optional.

I’m planning a long vacation in Ohio, which is where my husband works. Now, Ohio is not really a locale which springs to mind as a vacation destination. For me, the ability to spend most nights with my husband make going there worthwhile.

If you are familiar with “spoon theory”, you’ll know that not everyone has the same amount of energy or other physical resources to get things accomplished. In my case, I’m bipolar, so I find it hard to marshal a lot of energy at least half of the time- like a lot of bipolar women, I am frequently depressed, though I’m happy to say that in the past year or so the depression has been fairly mild. This past week I’ve been exhausted most nights and finding it hard to wake up, and hard to get anything substantial done after dinner. When I have a good day where I have a lot of energy, I try to use it to get the things done that I meant to do earlier, when I had less energy.

The thing that makes me look forward to this vacation is not laziness, or a lack of interest in my current job, which I love- no, it’s having more free time and the freedom to work when I feel like it (or, when I have more energy), and the freedom to nap when I don’t (or, when I have less energy). I don’t really think of myself as disabled, because my illness is managed fairly well, but finding energy is something I struggle with most of the time. Not when I’m hypomanic, of course, but that state of being comes with its own challenges.

When it comes to writing, I haven’t done very much at all this year, and it’s mostly because I’ve been waiting for a solid chunk of uninterrupted time when I also have energy, and nothing else pressing to do. I suspect I will become more productive so long as I’m able to keep a firm cap on the number of hours worked at my job per week. I’ve been indulging myself in John Scalzi, Neal Stephenson, Gail Carriger and Stephen King novels here and there, because reading takes far less effort than writing. I’ve also been rereading old works of mine, and thinking: (1) wow, there are still errors that need fixing, and (2) I wonder what would happen if I added in this character’s back story, or changed this other plot element?

So I’m not even finished revising those works. This includes my already revised novel Perigee as well as my novel-in-progress, Anagama. I realize I do need editorial input if I’m going to take my work out of free self-publication and into the realm of paid work, but first things first. I want to spend a bit more time with my novels (and also write a draft of Infinity) before I start looking for an agent that can help me find a good editor.

I have one more week of counting “spoons”, and then as far as I’m concerned, I’m on vacation! I can’t wait.

My 9/11 story

I thought long and hard about whether to share this story, which I have kept to myself for fifteen years, but I figure it can’t do any harm.  This story has been with me since before I started having problems with delusional thinking, and it has never changed in my mind- so I really think it is true. It may not be, though, which is the frustrating caveat I have to make for all my memories. Take it as you find it.

In September of 2001, I was gearing up to leave my abusive first husband, who lived in Auburn, Alabama. I was packing things (my now ex husband was travelling overseas, and I planned to be gone when he got back) on the evening of September 10. I answered the ringing phone.

There was a person on the other end asking for a travel agent. I hung up the phone.

The phone rang again. Same person asking for a travel agent. He was very irate and told me there was no chance he had gotten the phone number wrong.

One thing about me: when I lose my temper, I don’t usually yell or scream. I use my Sarcastic Voice. It is a very sweet, gentle voice in which I am capable of saying the nastiest things.

Out came my Sarcastic Voice. I pretended to transfer the call to a travel agent. He told he he was very unimpressed with our service and wanted to know when his flight left the next morning. I pretended to take down his name and contact information, then pretended to have trouble looking up the flight information.

“Oh, for Chrissakes- it is either 9:30 am or 10:30 am, which is it?” the irate man on the phone exploded at me.

In a split second, I calculated that if I said his flight was at 10:30 am, there was a 50% chance he would miss it completely.

“Your flight is at 10:30 am, sir,” I said,  hoping I was lying. He snarled at me. I hung up the phone, satisfied with my mild sabotage.

The next day, of course, everything changed. I was in my laboratory when I heard the news, saw internet footage of the planes flying into the Twin Towers. At first, I thought it was a movie. But the news reports kept coming, and coming. No movie, but reels and reels of horrifying footage, transmitted into my television set at home.

A few days later, I got another phone call. It was a man asking to talk to the travel agent he had spoken to on September 10, 2001. I told him I was alone in the house, a residential address, so if he had spoken to someone at this number, it had to have been me.

He apologized for his earlier rudeness, and told me that he had missed his plane in New York that morning, thanks to me.

Distractedly, I apologized. My mind was full of my upcoming move away from my now ex husband.

“No, no,” he said. “I was on flight, ” and I can’t recall the flight number now. “From New York to Los Angeles.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“It was one of the planes that was hijacked on 9/11,” he said.

My jaw dropped.

He went on to thank me for saving his life.

“You have my information,” he said. “Look me up. Call if you ever need anything.”

To this day I don’t know who it was that had phoned me.  I hope he is well and happy. I decided to share this story not because I want to glorify myself or my actions- which were actually really mean-spirited- but because I felt it is important to remember that sometimes, the smallest things you do can have far-reaching consequences.

Dreams of “Brian” by the train station

I wrote this little piece as an attempt to overcome writer’s block. If you know anything that might help me find “Brian”, please contact me.


They spring, fully formed, from my brain each morning as I wake up. Each dream is so clear and detailed, so plausible, that I find myself puzzling over them again and again. Are these memories? Are they imaginary? I have no way to tell. Most people can tell the difference between dreams and reality, at least to some extent. I can’t. This is what it means to be touched by the gods, if you believe in gods. For atheists like me, this is what it’s like to be bipolar.

Today I woke up thinking about my friend at the train station. I never knew exactly who he really was- his name online or at the clubs was “Brian”, and he contacted me when I was living in Sweden, asking if  he could have my address. I expected a letter or maybe a phone call, not an American standing by the train station building, calling my name. His dark navy or black wool coat stood out against the deep yellow of the station’s siding, and he had dark hair and eyes. He called my name again. I did not recognize him. I looked at him, and he recognized me. I turned to walk away- who was this? Why was he here? I was wearing a dark pink winter jacket and a bright green backpack from IKEA that held my work laptop. He walked up to me, said my name once more.

Uncomfortably, I looked away.

This is where the dream fragments. I don’t clearly remember what happens, other than that he quotes some of my fiction writing- passages from my novel Perigee.  I run away.

Later, in the sunshine of another day- I can’t remember if it is just a few days later or if it is a few months later- I meet him again at the train station. I have twenty minutes until my train. He asks me to have a coffee with him. This time I am not afraid. We go to a small coffee shop that sits across from the yellow-sided train station building, and I sit looking out into the sunshine, at peace. He sits next to me and does not say much. He sketches in a black-covered sketchbook. Again, I cannot recall much of anything of what is said. He gave me a ten kronor coin and told me to keep it. I pocketed it, and later used it at a grocery store. Ten kronor is about $1.30 or so in US dollars, not a significant amount of money.

I later regretted giving away the coin, as I had another dream that it had been a special coin- one of very few works of art by a Swedish artist, who made solid gold 10 kronor pieces and put them into general circulation as an art project. However, that I owned one such coin was probably only a dream.

I don’t know who “Brian” ever was. He would phone me occasionally while I lived in California, so I gather he lived there too. I think he wrote IMs once or twice while I was in Alaska, and he may have called me and done impressions of different characters on some cartoon shows. He was briefly on some online forums I was a participant in. I know these dreams are based on someone real. Who was at the train station? I might have met my mysterious friend, or I might have been delusional and completely imagined these encounters. I don’t normally hallucinate, but I do sometimes remember things that never happened. Maybe these dreams, these god-children, are not memories but only fantasies.

Whoever he is, wherever he is, if he is even real, I hope my friend “Brian” has a pleasant day followed by sweet, harmless dreams. Tonight, I will sleep, and tomorrow I will start puzzling again over the morning’s dose of strange dreams.

I keep hoping “Brian” is real and that someday I will find him to thank him. I can be reached via this page.

Overcoming writer’s block

Hello, readers! I have no idea who might read this little blog, so I’m putting in a contact form- let me know who you are and what you might have read recently (my work, or more likely someone else’s).

I’m currently in Centerville, Ohio, in the condo my husband is renting, enjoying a short vacation. This fall (see previous post) I will have more time to write. I thought of trying to finish something short this week, and I find myself faced with a crippling case of writer’s block.  I’d love it if you helped me overcome this by telling me something about yourself, even if it’s just what you are currently reading, or what kinds of stories you would like to see written. I may not be able to write those, but I enjoy email and would welcome input or feedback.

The stuff I’ll be working on will most likely be an Agent Diamond and Charming Guy tale. One that’s a bit more inclined toward espionage and Bond-esque villains. 

Stay tuned! More writing coming this fall

Hello readers!

I’ve been remiss- I have not finished the Agent Diamond and Charming Guy story I have been working on. It’s still going, but I’m pleased to report I’ll have a lot more free time this fall to focus on getting more stories out- I’ll be leaving my job at the end of September! I’m really looking forward to a period of relaxation between jobs. I’ll be going back to school for some computer science training eventually, but initially I’ll just be loafing about my husband’s condo, drinking wine and eating strange snacks from Trader Joe’s as I tap away at my keyboard.

The main reason I haven’t been writing is that I’m tired from this job and from taking care of business to do with my side project dealing with a cancer-fighting gut bacterium (a collaboration with UCLA). Also, a bad review of my second novel, which is in draft form, made me kind of hesitant to pick it up again. But I’m hopeful I can find someone to help me fix its problems and get back in the metaphorical saddle, and start writing again! So stay tuned for more updates this fall.

On drunken pink winged unicorns

I entertained myself today by writing a three-page short story describing how several graduate students deal with a drunken alcohol-stealing fluffy pink winged unicorn that appears in their office.

I’ve been trying to find time and energy to write, but there have been several stumbling blocks placed in my way- notably, increased duties at work which wipe me out intellectually by the end of the day, and a lot of psychological nonsense which hasn’t been easy to deal with either.

Unfortunately, it does not look like I will have a lot of time for creative fiction in coming months, either. I have some vacation time in July that I’ll spend writing parts of a grant application, and if I have time, I’ll finish a few short stories that have been percolating. I’ve been rather exhausted lately, so it’s not likely I’ll have energy to tackle my novels.

One thing at a time, I suppose. I am hoping that once my novels are finished, even if they took a long time to write, the wait will have been worth it.  In the meantime, I hope to have at least one more Agent Diamond and Charming Guy story done by the second week of July which I’ll put out for free on Smashwords, with the rest of them.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Looking forward to the adventures of the Orville

Some science fiction news: there will be a new offering from Seth MacFarlane, this time a science fiction drama/comedy set aboard the spacecraft the Orville. This will be a live action TV series that Seth stars in, and is set aboard a less-than-perfect exploratory vessel. I enjoyed Seth and his team’s other works, including A Million Ways to Die in the West, and I’m looking forward to seeing what cherished sci-fi tropes they manage to skewer this time around. I sincerely hope Liam Neeson makes another appearance! Production starts toward the end of 2016 and the show will air in 2017-2018.

In perhaps less exciting news, I have discovered blurb.ca and how easy it is to format a book via that site! I experimented around with it earlier this week, and am now contemplating a small book for family and friends around Christmas, probably encompassing my existing Agent Diamond and Charming Guy stories (you can find a link to them here on Smashwords– all are free downloads), along with a few new tales I’ve had stewing in my head for some time.

I’m undecided about continuing with one of my novels, Anagama– upon reflection, the marriage of my old writing style with my current writing style may be an uneasy one, even if I change plot elements about to make it more palatable. Anagama was started in 1998 and I’ve been working on it off and on ever since, finishing the first draft last Christmas- but I’m not satisfied with it. I have a few ideas for how to improve it, but think I might need to wait until I find a real editor for that manuscript.

In the meantime, I am starting work on Infinity, which is based on some of my delusional thinking between 2013-2015. Infinity is the story of an unlikely relationship formed via spacetime wormholes,  and the efforts of time travelers to affect the relationship’s outcome.  If my current pace of work at my paid job continues as it has been, it will take me until the end of 2017 to finish it, probably.

Enjoy your day!

Where there are daffodils…

I’ve been distracted a lot with work recently. A lot of new projects are lining up in the pipeline and all of them are really interesting to me. I’m also very excited about my pet cancer-fighting gut bacterium project, which I work on here and there in my spare time- I’ve reworked some analyses and the results are even better the second time around! I need to do some more actual in-lab wet bench work, though, so I’m waiting to see if my UCLA collaborators get funding or if they want to write a Broad Institute SPARC grant for a bit of money.

So yes, this has taken up a lot of my time and energy recently. However, I found myself in a coffee shop yesterday and wound up writing a very short story- 925 words. It was for a writer’s workshop group I’m part of, and the theme for our stories was “The Secret Lives of Ghosts”. Given the recent death of my father and subsequent ghost story, I decided to write about that- so the story won’t be shared, but at least I wrote something.

I may try to write something a bit more lighthearted and silly soon- I need to cheer myself up sometimes! Luckily spring is coming, or rather, trying to get here since the weather report says it may snow in the next few days. Where there are daffodils, there is still hope.