Monday, February 27, 2017

Character Interview with Petra Grace

Hey people! I'm really excited to be interviewing one of my friend Petra's characters. I hope you enjoy this one, I sure did!

Petra is a chocolate-loving, day-dreaming, Pinterest-browsing writer. She’s a Christian, who’s currently finishing up her high-school diploma through an online school. She enjoys friends, photography, music, academics, running, and anything that has to do with the written word. She’s loved to read and write, from the age that she could hold a book or a pen in her hands… And she’s been avidly pursuing both ever since. You can find her on her scribbling down things on her blog, snapping photos with her camera, or obsessively scrolling through Pinterest.

Saylor Philips is one of the millions of young women affected by the devastation of WWI. She was raised alongside her brother by her Aunt, after her father died and her mother was hospitalized for clinical depression and the PTSD that the war gave her. She had her first anxiety attack when her mother received the telegram with the news that her father was dead. This was when she was 5. For 10 years after that, she struggled needlessly with severe anxiety, depression, and the side effects of growing up without her parents. When she was 14 years old, William Godfrey walked into her life and things began to change. She wasn’t bullied as severely at the village school anymore and she found out what it felt like to have a real friend. Fast forward to present day (the beginning stages of WWII)… Saylor’s mental health hasn’t gotten better with time, but she’s matured into a beautiful 18 year old. She’s now living at an undercover school, posed as a nurse for the war effort. In the opening pages of the book, she receives a telegram telling her that William is missing in action. With her graduation and promotion to a spy on the front lines, she manages to arrange for her first mission to be in Amsterdam - where William was last seen. In the meantime, she loves to laugh with her roommate, take walks in the countryside of England, and she adores linguistics.

ALT: What is your full name?

SP: Saylor Philips. Funny story, actually, my mum never gave me a middle name. She always loved my first name, but after she and my dad racked their brains for weeks, they couldn’t think of a second name that sounded right with the first and last ones all put together. So, I’m just Saylor Philips.

ALT: Are you married? In a relationship?

SP: Oh, heavens, no. Well, I’m not married. The relationship bit is a little bit complicated. My boyfriend - who also happens to be my best friend - is missing in action at the moment. I hope to find him very soon and the plan is for us to be married when the war comes to an end. Perhaps when I next see him, I can convince him that we should be married before the end of the war… The war has made me realize one thing: never take a single second together for granted. Live as though it might be your last moment together.

ALT: What was/is your relationship with your father?

SP: My relationship with my father came to an abrupt halt when I was five years old. My mum and I were in the kitchen making biscuits when the telegram arrived with the news of his death.

ALT: With your mother?

SP: The last time that my mum was herself were in the moments that we were making biscuits together, before she knew about my father. She shut down after that and was hospitalized, leaving my Aunt Emily to raise us and provide funds to take care of my mother.

ALT: Siblings?

SP: I have one younger sibling, James. I would have had many more, but the war took my parents and their wishes to have a house full of children never came true. James and I have always got on quite nicely.

ALT: How do you fall in love? At first sight? Over a long period of time?

SP: I fall in love at the pace of a slug. Not the nicest image, I know, but it’s true. Because of what happened with my parents and the experience of being severely bullied for several years has made me quite cynical. It takes me months to actually learn to trust someone and years for me fall in love.

ALT: What parts of loving come easily to you? What comes hard?

SP: The elated feelings of a romance come quite easily. I think they do to everyone, to be completely honest. But love isn’t a feeling - it’s a choice. And I’ve had to learn that. I had to learn to forgive my mother and choose to keep loving her, even though I didn’t hear from her once after my father died. I had to choose to keep loving William when he was being frustrating about my mental health. It’s a choice - not a feeling. The feeling comes easily, the choice is nearly impossible.

ALT: If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for?

SP: 1. That my parents were both alive and well. 2. That William was here by my side, instead of missing. 3. That the war would come to an abrupt end right this moment.

ALT: When you walk into a room, what do you notice first? Second?

SP: Well, with a bit of giggling and blushing, I can admit that if William is in the room, he’s usually the only thing I notice. If he’s not there, I’ll notice what atmosphere the room has. Secondly, I’ll notice how many people are in that room.

ALT: When you walk into a room, what do you expect people to notice first about you?

SP: I expect that it’s my hair, to be completely honest. I have the curliest, darkest hair that you’d ever see.

ALT: Did you turn out the way you expected you would? The way your parents expected?

SP: Short answer: No way. Long answer: The war happened, so I think most people didn’t turn out how one was expected to.

ALT: What really moves you, touches you to the soul?

SP: Children. They’re tiny little humans, with the brain power of a fighter jet. They’re quite brilliant really and they’re as loyal as they come.

ALT: What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but didn't/couldn't/wouldn't?

SP: I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Before my father died, my mother was the strongest woman I knew and she was a heck of a good mother. After my father died, my aunt took on the role of mother and she is the strongest woman I know. I hope to be a mother in the future, after this cruel war is over.

ALT: What do you consider to be your special talent?

SP: Linguistics, without a shadow of a doubt. I remember the first Latin conjugation that I ever learned. Languages have stuck with me ever since.

ALT: What are you most proud of in your life?

SP: Definitely my aunt and my brother. But especially my aunt. She’s been the silent strength that’s held this family together. She worked day and night shifts when I was in primary school, just to pay tuition and my mother’s hospital bills. She’s doing it all over again with James now.

ALT: Did you like school? Your teachers? Schoolmates?

SP: Yes and no. I hated school with every fiber in my body. My schoolmates would bully the living daylights out of me. The stabbed me with their words every single day and one time the physical bullying got so bad that my shoulder was dislocated for an entire week. Thankfully, that was the week that William entered the picture and he’s the son of a doctor, so he was able to fix my shoulder. My teachers turned a blind eye entirely to the bullying. I’ve often wondered if the village school was being payed by the government to be an experimental school - one of those schools that allow everything from the students and the teachers aren’t allowed to step in. On the other hand, I loved academics. I always have and I always will.

ALT: Did you graduate high school? College? Beyond?

SP: In England, we do things a bit differently. Especially during the war. I got through primary school, secondary school, and my aunt was going to take on another job to put me through college when an official from undercover school visited and offered to take me on because of my linguistic abilities. I’m just weeks away from graduation and promotion to a mission on the battle front.

ALT: What do you do for a living?

SP: Once I graduate, I’ll be able to send home a check to my aunt. It won’t be much at first, as they virtually payed for my entire program. They haven’t given me an official title yet, so I’m not sure what my position is.

ALT: Have you traveled? Where? When? Why?

SP: I haven’t ever traveled before, aside from going to London a few times. The first time was with my parents, when my little brother was born. My grandmother lives in London and she wanted James to be born near her home. My parents complied and we went to London for my mother to give birth. The second time was with Aunt Emily for a job interview. The headquarters of the company she was applying for was in London and that was the branch that they interviewed people at. She dropped James and me off at our grandmother’s house and went for the interview. The most recent trip was after I was enrolled in this program. I needed to go to a formal dress fitting and it just happened to be in London. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be traveling to Amsterdam to search for William and begin my first mission as a graduate.

All character owned by the author. Used with permission.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Character Interview with Abigayle Claire

Abigayle has been inspired to write since she could spell her own name. Her passion wasn’t completing the stories (she did that twice and decided it wasn’t for her), it was jotting down the ideas.

But in 2015, a story grabbed her—one she had to finish. Inspired by a crazy dream in a genre she no longer read, Abigayle set off on a journey to write her first novel and she hasn’t looked back since.

Writing is her ministry, freelance editing her job, and reading her pastime—all of which prove that God really does know what He’s doing when He inspires a 6-year-old with a pencil in her left hand.

Abi on Facebook: Abi The Author
Twitter: Abi The Author
Goodreads: Abi The Author
Pinterest: Abi The Author
Youtube: Abigayle Claire


Josiah Martin is a Christian farmer in the heart of Kansas. When he’s not struggling with his INFJ passion to introduce the world to God’s redeeming love, he can be found out of doors or eating homecooked food. He’s looking forward to supporting his beautiful fiancé and their family with his newly acquired job as a commercial corn farmer.


ALT: What was/is your relationship with your father?

JM: We are very different. He tells me that I’m a lot like Mom—I feel more than he does. That alone brings us to many differences of opinion. But because we respect each other, we still maintain a healthy relationship and aren’t afraid to hash out our differences.

ALT: Were you overprotected as a child?

JM: We were very protected, yes, but it did us more good than harm. We don’t watch much television or interact personally with many non-Christians. But when we do, it’s not complete culture shock. I think we’ve reached a fairly healthy balance, although Mom and Dad might have approached some of it better.

ALT: In your relationship with others, how do you interact differently with family than with friends? Why?

JM: Um … I don’t know that there’s a big difference. I’m an extroverted introvert. So once you get to know me, it’s pretty much the same all around.

ALT: How do you fall in love? At first sight? Over a long period of time?

JM: Hehe … Dad thinks I fall easy, but I disagree. It’s so gradual I don’t even realize it until it’s happened. Then the rest of time is spent with me getting the courage to approach the girl.

ALT: What do you most value in your friends?

JM: Loyalty. They don’t have to tell me all their secrets or spend all of their time with me, but if we’re going to be friends, we’re going to be friends. Don’t flake out on me or there’s no going back.

ALT: How do you decide if you can trust someone? Experience with others? With this person? First impressions? Intuition? Do you test the person somehow? Or are you just generally disposed to trust or not to trust?

JM: My first inclination is to see the good in people, but I try to approach even a trivial relationship prayerfully and with common sense. Strangers are exciting challenges to overcome. But I have to see them make decisions and learn their track record before I know how trustworthy they are.

ALT: When you walk into a room, what do you notice first? Second?

JM: First, how many people I know. I’m going to hang with family and friends for the most part. Second, who’s hurting. I’m going to approach the people that look like they need someone to listen next.

ALT: Did you turn out the way you expected you would? The way your parents expected?

JM: I think Dad and I both expected me to outgrow some of my tenderheartedness. It’s not a bad thing, but being so sensitive can wear me down. I have several sisters with a manlier heart than me. Mom expected I’d like vegetables by now.

ALT: What really moves you, touches you to the soul?

JM: Pain. I’m drawn to people who are lost or hurting. I have to fix that if I can.

ALT: What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but didn't/couldn't/wouldn't?

JM: Meet my grandparents. My mom’s parents died when I was just a few years old, so I don’t remember them. Dad’s parents are still living, I think, but I’ve never met them.

ALT: What's the worst thing you've ever done? Why?

JM: Probably shove my older sister Belinda off the hayloft, because I don’t usually get physical when I’m angry and knew how wrong it was to intentionally hurt a girl and did it anyway. She landed in loose hay but narrowly missed the pitchfork. Yelling at my dad was also not okay.

ALT: What are you most afraid of?

JM: Death. Not for myself, really. But seeing something innocent die or someone who didn’t know God yet pass away makes me feel guilty, like I should have tried harder to make a difference while they were alive.

ALT: What type of clothing are you most comfortable with?

JM: Jeans and a plaid button-up shirt.

ALT: What does your handwriting look like?

JM: I quit cursive as soon as Mom let me. My print is straight and tall. None of the letters touch.

ALT: How do you react in stressful situations?

JM: I have to be able to sit down and think of the best solution or blow off steam

ALT: How imaginative are you?

JM: Not very. Things have to make sense in a logical, black & white manner. I like trying to find the most economical solutions to life, though.

ALT: What's your sense of humor?

JM: Sneaky and teasing.

ALT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

JM: Raising a family in the heart of America where I can support them off my farming, supported by the woman I love. That or Ginger’s pumpkin chiffon pies.

ALT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

JM: Humility. You have to have enough ego and confidence to keep people from walking all over you.

ALT: On what occasion would you lie?

JM: I would withhold information if I thought it would benefit people I love. I don’t think I would ever lie outright (I’m good at deflecting these things) unless it would save a life.

ALT: What is your greatest regret?

JM: Not seeing through a distant friend of mine sooner. Could have saved a lot of trouble and heartache for several people I know.

ALT: How would you, if you could, choose to die?

JM: Peacefully at home in old age and happiness.

ALT: Best way to cheer you up?

JM: Feed me, ask me what’s wrong so I can vent without feeling like I’m bothering you.

ALT: Best way to annoy you?

JM: Being petty, giving me a task I can’t succeed at, not trusting me, infringing upon my rights, dismissing my values. … That’s a pretty long list.

ALT: Most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?

JM: Throwing up while singing Silent Night in kids’ choir. I ruined Lydia Long’s curly hairdo.

All characters owned by the author. Used with permission.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Tattoos and Tiaras, Update One

I've been picking away at this since November, off and on, making little edits here and there. But since I've finished writing the first two Importance Books, The Importance of Blood and The Importance of Stars, I'm taking a break on that series for a while and decided to work on Tattoos and Tiaras while I wait for Mom to finish editing Spinner of Secrets

Here's a snippet:


“James? James, I'm home.” Helen called, stepping into the New York City apartment.

“Hey, babe!” A voice called, and a slight smile played on Helen's face as she closed the door and wandered into the kitchen.

James was setting the table for two, a pair of red taper candles burning already. They gave of a cinnamon scent that blending curiously with the baked honey and curry chicken he had made.

Rather than sit down, Helen leaned against the counter. “How was your week, James?” She asked, running her fingers down his tattooed arm. He smiled, catching her hand and lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against her knuckles before moving towards the stove.

“It was fine. How was yours?”

“Long.” She let out a sigh, watching him take the pan of chicken out of the oven. “I went to the doctor's in LA.”

He set the pan on the table, forehead wrinkling with concern. “The doctor's? Are you okay?”

“I'm pregnant.”

If he hadn't just set the pan down, it would have crashed onto the floor. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened, staring at her until she gave a small laugh and crossed to him, closing his mouth. “You're sweet.”

“I'm going to be dad!” He yelled, throwing the hot mitts up in the air. Then he caught her around the waist and kissed her firmly.

She submitted to that for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sit down.”

“Sit? No, I want to go climb the Empire State Building and let the whole bloody city know!”

“James, sit down.” The odd note in her voice made him pause, and he followed her example, sinking into a chair across from her.

“I'm pregnant, I'm filing for divorce, and I'm giving full and sole rights of the child to you.”

James just stared at her. “Wait, what?” Helen tapped her perfectly manicured fingertips against the table, tap-tap-tap-tap, and James stifled the urge to hold her hand to stop the noise. “Wait... Helen, I want kids... but I don't want us to end because of it. I don't need kids, I need you. We can put the kid up for adoption or... or something. I want kids, but I need you.”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry. It's not the kid's fault. And it's not your fault. It's just that I can't do this anymore.”

He frowned, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is there someone else?”

She snorted. “No. That's the whole point. You've been an amazing husband, James, and I know you'll be a perfect father. But I can't do this anymore. I can't come home one more day to see your face, all lit up with a damn Christmas tree to see me. You have such a big heart, James, and so much love to give. It's one of the things that I fell in love with when we were kids. But we're not kids anymore and I can't love. Loving costs too much. I can't do it and I need to not. It's killing me, the strain of being married to you. You deserve something better and I can't give it and I'm leaving.” She stood up, and James could see the small swell of her stomach where their child lived - his child, since she was abandoning them. “I'll be back in New York to give birth, then you won't see me again. Goodbye, James. I'm sorry.”

“Helen,” he pleaded, but she was gone. He stared at the apartment door for an incredibly long time, until the taper candles had burned low. She didn't come back. He dropped his head to the table and wept, hearing his heart breaking and burst into a thousand pieces on the table amid the untouched supper.

He ran.

Obsessively. Feet pounding on the sidewalks of New York City, running miles at a time and then dropping onto the couch of his apartment and staring at the TV until he fell asleep, only to be haunted by dreams of Helen.

Goodbye, James. I'm sorry.”


How could she say that? How could she ruin him and then say sorry as if she'd just bumped into him at the grocery store and made him spill a can of peaches out of his shopping basket?

He worked out at all hours of the night, using the gym on the ground floor of the apartment building. Weight lifting. Running. Cardio.

Anything to make him so tired that his sleep was dead heavy and he didn't have to hear Helen's voice in his head. Didn't have to feel a phantom touch on his shoulder. Didn't have to keep catching her out of the corner of his eye.

Anything to make the memories go away and shut up so he didn't have to keep remembering that he had been abandoned because he loved her too much.

He promised himself that he wouldn't fall in love again. Not that way. He could love the baby, of course, and he would. And he'd have friends, someday. But he promised himself that he wouldn't live a romance again. Helen was the strongest woman he knew but he was too much for her. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Once he'd decided that, it was easier to just banish all thoughts of romance and Helen entirely. He was James, single father, book reviewer, blogger. And that was that.

Copyright 2017 by Annie Louise Twitchell

Monday, February 13, 2017

My Silence Is My Destruction

My Silence Is My Destruction

Annie Louise Twitchell

My silence is my destruction.

Once upon a time you knew that.
You taught me how to have a voice 
and how to sing
but now your hand is around my throat,
stifling my words into a hoarse scream 
because the words I would speak 
are not the words you want to hear tonight.
They are fire,
they are branded on your skin,
a shrieking howl in your ears,
but I will not be silent for your comfort.
My silence is my destruction.
I will scream my words out loud 
until they fill the air between us 
because you told me to have a voice
and now you say that my voice 
is only for your validation.
Only to be used when it agrees with yours.
Only to be valued when it makes you comfortable.

My silence is my destruction.

And I will not be silent.

Copyright 2017 by Annie Louise Twitchell

Project Canvas



This is going to be so much fun and it looks like we're going to have a great team of writers giving tips and hints and articles. I hope to learn a lot from this book and I hope I can help out some people.

What am I writing about? At the moment, the only article I'm signed up to write is about writing adult characters when you're a teen. I'm nineteen, so halfway between, but (insert me cringing a lot because I'm kind of bragging about myself) I can write pretty good adult characters in my books. It didn't come easily - I wasn't happy with them, so I fought and fought with them for a long time before getting my head to behave so I could write them.

Project Canvas Book

Other topics I'm vaguely interested in, include writing through anxiety and depression; what to do when your head won't shut up; the value of company even when you're an introvert. These are just kind of vague ideas and I don't know if I'll do anything with them. There's a lot of other people collaborating on this, so I think most of those are covered already.

Anywho! This is the newest thing I'm up to.

Drop a comment if you have suggestions for an article I should research writing, or something you think we should include.

~Annie Lou

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

The Lost Girl of Astor Street Blog Tour - Clue 8

Today, I'm super excited to announce that I have a very special guest on my blog!

Stephanie Morrill is the creator of and the author of several young adult novels, including the historical mystery, The Lost Girl of Astor Street. Despite loving cloche hats and drop-waist dresses, Stephanie would have been a terrible flapper because she can’t do the Charleston and looks awful with bobbed hair. She and her near-constant ponytail live in Kansas City with her husband and three kids.

Stephanie Morrill is the author of The Lost Girl of Astor Street. Today I will be interviewing the main character, Piper Sail. And it launches today!

Stephanie Morrill - Lost Girl

We (and by we, I am of course referring to the seriously awesome group of people helping launch Lost Girl) are doing a clue hunt today, so read on down to find out more about that!

ALT: What is your full name?
PCS: Piper Caroline Sail

ALT: What parts of loving come easily to you? What comes hard?
PCS: I’m a very loyal person, so once my trust and admiration has been won, I’ll stick by you. But it’s difficult for me to develop relationships with people and feel comfortable around them.

ALT: Did you turn out the way you expected you would? The way your parents expected?
PCS: I thought I would be kinder and softer, like my mother, when I grew up. It reoriented me when she died, as if those kind and soft places inside me died with her. I have two older brothers, so I suppose she maybe expected I wouldn’t be a nice, quiet sort of girl. I think my father is a bit proud of that, honestly.

ALT: What do you consider to be your special talent?
PCS: I think most people say that my special talent is being relentless. If I fix my mind to something, I go after it.

ALT: How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?
PCS: I feel uncertain about my life right now. High school is almost over, and it’s time for me to leave the home of my childhood and go off to a university somewhere to study … something. I don’t really know yet what I want to do. One of my best friends is off pursuing his dream of playing baseball, and the other, Lydia, will probably get married before too long and start a family. But I don’t really know yet where I fit in.

ALT: What type of clothing are you most comfortable with?
PCS: I like to wear clothes that I can move around in. I’m every so grateful for the turn in women’s fashion, and that dresses have gotten so much simpler.

ALT: Did you like school? Your teachers? Schoolmates?
PCS: I enjoy school … but I don’t know how much my school enjoys me. My home economics teacher particularly dislikes me. It’s kind of a long story, but I once knocked her over when I was sliding down a banister in school. And there’s a time when I borrowed her cardigan to sneak into the teacher’s lounge. So her dislike is somewhat understandable.

ALT: What do you want most and what would you do to obtain it?
PCS: What I want most is for my friend Lydia to be healthy. She’s been having seizures, and I’m really scared for her. I want her to get healthy and for us to have one last perfect summer together before life takes us different directions.

ALT: Best gift to get you?
PCS: The best gift to give me is something heartfelt and personal. I have very simple tastes.

ALT: You're the kind of person who:
PCS: I’m the kind of person who doesn’t believe in sitting around and waiting for things to happen to her.


Now! There's a clue hunt blog tour going on, so hop over to these blogs (I would recommend going in order) and collect the clues. If you follow instructions, you can enter a giveaway to get one of three signed hardcover copies (if you live outside of the US, you won't miss out - you can win an e-book edition!) Head over to Stephanie's blog to get more instructions and details.
Clue 1: Stephanie Morrill
Clue 2: Some Books Are
Clue 3: Gabriella Slade
Clue 4: Page by Page, Book by Book
Clue 5: Pens and Scrolls
Clue 6: Singing Librarian Books
Clue 7: Heather Manning
Clue 8: Annie Louise Twitchell
Clue 9: Noveling Novelties
Clue 10: Kaitee Hart
Clue 11: Classics and Craziness
Clue 12: Zerina Blossom
Clue 13: Rebecca Morgan
Clue 14: Keturah's Korner
Clue 15: That Book Gal
Clue 16: Anna Schaeffer
Clue 17: Hadley Grace
Clue 18: Lydia Howe
Clue 19: Ramblings by Bethany
Clue 20: Matilda Sjöholm
Clue 21: Lydia Carns
Clue 22: Broken Birdsong
Clue 23 & Clue 24: The Ink Loft

And finally, for the clue!



Good luck!


Monday, February 6, 2017

On Tea and Tears

There I was, sitting in my room, working on my computer. I was writing a blog post. It was not going so easily. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to say and no good words coming to mind. I was about to be done and go start laundry instead, because laundry is much more co-operative. I know better than to force words when they don't want to talk.

Then my brother knocked on my door. "Annie, you have a package out in the shop."

I got super excited until I realized - what the heck? I placed an order yesterday, it's not here today.

"It's from Amazon."

Now that really didn't make any sense. The order I made yesterday wasn't from Amazon.

"I'll be right out!" I actually beat him out to the shop. After testing the package to make sure it was safe to open -- I'm kidding. I grabbed it and stabbed the tape with a pen and found two boxes of tea and the following note:

And then I started crying. 

See, last week I finished the first draft of The Importance of Blood. I posted this on my Facebook page:

The first draft is done

I feel like I'm in shock

Someone get me a blanket

It's been approximately three weeks and I have a document that is 16,750 words long and it's a finished first draft. I can start the second book (which I'm dreading more than the first one) at any point. It's going to have to wait until after the weekend and I may see if it will wait until the end of the month - I'm a little afraid it won't though.

I can't decide if I want to laugh and do a happy dance, or curl up in a corner and cry, or do both. I'm really proud of myself for sticking to it and finishing it, yeah, I have scenes and content to add in but the bones are all there and it's a solid, finished, first draft. I need snuggles, hugs, and hot chocolate though because it was not a fun time, doing it.

I just started crying out there in the shop, and somehow managed to collect my tea and notes and make it inside. I sat there and cried for a while, while my cat and her niece purred and wished I would pat them instead of drip salt water everywhere. 

It meant so much to me to get the tea, especially after this past week. I had a long, stressful week, full of doing new and unfamiliar things. (I also was told twice by two different people that I 'kick butt' and am 'awesome'.) I got to Saturday night and I had a wicked bad headache, which was cured by lying in bed and watching The Princess Bride twice, back to back, ending at 3 am. I had a couple meltdowns on Sunday as well, and another headache - it's been months since I've had two headaches back to back. I tried all my usual things to fix it and finally just gave up and watched Hotel Transylvania twice, back to back - within the first half hour of the first time time through, my headache was gone. That was familiar. I knew that. It was safe and familiar and it was going to be okay. Breathing space.

And then I got to today and went to work doing my normal stuff - starting working on The Importance of Stars. Did some beta reading. Worked on my blog. Yelled at the cat for chasing my rabbit. Watered my house plants. I fell into my normal routine of familiar and unfamiliar, in safer and more comfortable proportions.

And then I got the tea. And I just started crying.

See, I have a hard time remembering myself. So it always confuses me when other people remember me. I had over fifty people at my eighteenth birthday and graduation party, and that still confuses me, almost two years later. I spend so much time in my head but sometimes I forget that I have a head, that it's more than just a huge drawing board full of ideas and words and thoughts. Sometimes I forget that people like me too, not just my words. Sometimes I forget that I like me too, not just my words. I had such a hard time getting it pounded through my thick skull that people wanted to be around me and wanted to be friends and wanted to do stuff with me, outside of my work. I spend so much time inside my head that, while I never forget there's a world outside of it, I sometimes have a hard time coming back to it and finding it again. (Reason number 216 why I love having my rabbit in my room - she throws her food bowl around and makes noise so I remember to get up and feed her, and additionally, feed myself.) If I didn't have a daily routine the way I do, with an hour working in the shop, walking the dogs, cooking lunch and dinner for the family - I would get lost in my work a lot more than I do. I would start to drown in it. Because I still have a hard time remembering myself. And I'm working on it and getting much better than I was two years ago, or even a year ago. But sometimes I need a reminder and getting the tea today, and the note... it was the perfect timing.

If you'll excuse me, now I need to go make some tea.


Copyright 2017 by Annie Louise Twitchell