Seeing 20-20...finally

I've seen so many say goodbye to the last decade that I want to do something different--greeting the decade to come. Here are a few plans and updates.

Work

Several years ago, I jumped ship when a pleasant medical records j, ob relocated to a soulless office park in Renton, a hefty commute from Seattle. I took what I meant to be a temporary gig with Whole Foods. But I've continued in retail in several different stores since then. I've reduced my schedule to 4 days a week to buy me more time to write. But the downside is retail hell for a crappy salary.

But I've completed three online medical courses, revamped my resume, and begun applying online.

Result: a phone interview this Thursday for a good position much closer to home.

Writing

My new Seattle BOP mystery series has pulled in rave reviews, including a beauty from Kirkus. I've completed the third and am outlining the fourth. But the short form I prefer, 40K words, has met steady resistance from agents. What to do? I know writers who've padded their work shamelessly to meet the minimum required word count of 50-60k words. But I wondered if there might be a better way to reach more readers, make good money doing so, and start enjoying life.

Result: I've completed a new novel of 80K words and have hired a pro to help produce a commanding query letter and synopsis. Furthermore, I've come up with a cool way of unshackling myself from some chains of the past. Further details to follow. For now, I need to follow the plan from this film:

F

Connectedness

For longer than I really care to recall, I've done little except write and work at a job I don't like. Now that the writing prospects are stronger and an enjoyable job is in sight, this is the year I'll emerge from my monkish shell. On Facebook, I will work toward creating a stronger base of friends in my new genre, mystery, and purging old-time one-way streets. I'll register with Mystery Writers of America, become more involved in Seattle Noir at the Bar, and begin getting out and about. When I've succeeded in selling the book, I'll start attending conventions.

Result: Even having a plan and a commitment to a more open, adventuresome life does wonders for the soul.

Dandy Digs

The studio I've moved to has been a step up from Pioneer Square. But it's too small for me to have visitors and the layout isn't right for my cat plans. 

Result: I've made arrangements with my landlord to graduate into a one-bedroom, ground floor apartment this summer. Probably June or July. And this month I'll start shopping for basic cat necessities.

Travel and Adventure

I miss them dearly. It's been years since I've even been on a train. The writing came first, the writing came first, the writing came first.  Enough said.

Result: My commitment is solid to find a decent-paying job with a better schedule and benefits. And my commitment to sell my 80K word novel plus the 60K sequel in progress will pay off, I'm convinced--paving the way to adventure. Each day I write with a greater sense of urgency and purpose. 

The Hard Art of the After-Fall

On April 5, at approximately 5 a.m., I took a hard tumble on a dark street while hurrying toward the bus stop.



The fall was bad enough to cause one driver to screech to a stop. He helped me to my feet and stayed till I assured him that nothing was broken and I'd be okay...though I did seem to hurt all over. I turned down his request for a ride to a nearby hospital. He left reluctantly, turning to ask me one last time. I thanked him. But no, really, I was Reb MacRath. I'd studied Aikido for too many years to not know how to tumble.

Wrong. I needed help getting onto the bus and more help getting off it. Though still sure that nothing was broken, I'd strained a groin muscle almost certainly.  Or I had a hernia. I left a message on the sick line at work, explaining that I was temporarily immobilized. Since the next day, Wednesday, was my day off, I had two days to rest and heal. I should be fine by Thursday, I thought. And I had to be fine by Sunday--because that was the Magic Day.

Yes, I'd booked my ticket months ago for a cross-country train tip from Seattle to Buffalo. And, let me tell you, I'd planned the trip down to the tiniest details: a glorious walk through my old college campus...a long walk through the downtown area...visits with my sister and an old friend I hadn't seen since my years in Canada...a visit to my parents' graves.

So I'd heal because I had to heal within the next five days. Right?



Wrong. Long story short: I did board that Amtrak train and take the trip, but not as planned. I accepted gratefully a wheelchair at the station and needed to sleep upright in my cabin every night. The train car attendant brought me my meals. And in Buffalo I ended spending most of my time sitting with my leg raised or lying down. I met with my sister and friend, nothing more--except for a round-trip cab ride to a nearby Starbucks once.

I'm home again and somewhat healed 15 days after the fall...but not nearly healed enough to return to work yet. So today I'll see a doctor or cab to an emergency clinic. What's my situation and what do I need to do?

Equally important: What the devil have I learned?



1) I'd felt angry and bitter the day of the fall. I'd paid for my vacation a half-year before and had been planning it down to the tiniest details. The timing of the injury couldn't have been worse, I thought. But I see now that the timing could have been much worse. If I'd fallen three days later, I'd have had to cancel the trip because of the pain. If I'd fallen four months before, I wouldn't have had the medical insurance that I now enjoy.
2) The fall itself could have been much worse--and I think those years studying Aikido did help. Tens of thousands of break falls and rolls did teach me to protect my head when landing.
3) Suddenly, it's become completely unimportant to me to run for a bus or to be first in line for anything. As a man with a cane now, I'm focused on each step along the way.
4) Our infirmities bring out the worst in some people and the best in others. We'll meet bullies who'll go out of their way to block our path, demanding we move when we're barely able to stand. But we'll also meet saints who go out of their way to see if we need help.
5) The thigh bone's connected to the hip bone and the hip bone's connected to the back...The groin pain and hip soreness were clear enough to me. But the back pain came later and mystified me. That is, until I played amateur detective. I was having enormous difficulty getting out of bed--and also having a good night's sleep. Could the villain be the old foam futon, set on the floor with no frame?
Had the back strain resulted from tossing and turning on the old foam's hardened ruts?
6) Our life strategies must be connected as well. Today I'll see a doctor...after having a new bed delivered at noon. I'll need to set up a work schedule that meets my doctor's orders. And I may need to take more time off.
7) Finally, for now: be grateful for the humblings. We all need to be reminded that we are not invincible and are not here forever. Because my movements were so restricted, that vacation was all the sweeter. And I wouldn't have exchanged it for a week on the world's finest beach.