Medusa's Muse

Taxes, Tribal Blog, and Writing my Play

2012-01-27T08:07:00.000-08:00

I am a member of Tribal Blogs, which is like BlogHer or Blog Frog, but cooler. Today I read a post by guest blogger Jenn Thorson about her experience self-publishing her novel. Really good advice. Here's a snippet and the link to read the rest:

The purpose of this post isn’t to go into the details of every step of the self-publishing process; there are plenty of great how-to’s on that already.

But I did want to mention, there are two areas of prep work that can be sticky if you’re not familiar with them in advance. One is formatting the book for print; the other is creating the e-book version.

In both cases, there are for-fee services available to help you accomplish this nicely. So don’t abandon the dream, if you feel overwhelmed.

Click HERE to read the entire article on Tribal Blogs.

I promised more info about taxes and writing, so here's a link to a blog post called How to Report Book Sales and Royalties. Be sure and scroll down to read the comments section for excellent questions and answers. Wine Press of Words looks like another good blog with tons of advice on publishing, marketing, and social media.

If you're expecting a royalty statement, your publisher should send you a 1099 Misc before the end of January. You will report that income on Schedule C of your tax return (sorry to wait until the last minute, Laura. I'll give you your statement by Sunday). If you're a publisher, you only include the royalties you paid the author in 2011, not all royalties earned for the year. Typically, there are royalties due from the previous year that don't get paid until later, such as royalties earned in November and December. Your author doesn't pay taxes on those earned royalties, only on the royalties she was actually paid.

And now for a word on writing... I just finished revising Act 1 of my newest full length play and I am in love. I think about this play constantly, playing scenes over and over in my mind when I'm supposed to be concentrating on writing IEP goals for a student or planning lessons. Is it safe to be so enamored with something you've written? Does it mean I've lost all perspective? Who cares! For now I'm just enjoying the thrill of writing something new and exciting. This play feels like the best thing I've ever written.

It's Tax Time. Do you know where your receipts are?

2012-01-25T08:56:00.000-08:00

The H and R Block office has reopened and there are signs all over town announcing deals on tax preparation. That can mean only one thing: it's tax time. The wonderful time of year when we all whimper at the pile of paperwork and forms demanding our immediate attention, realizing we've lost most of our receipts, and we have no idea if we got all of our 1099's and W2's from everyone we worked for.

This is also an excellent time of year to crack open that expensive bottle of scotch Uncle Jo gave us for Christmas.

When I was writing What You Need to Know to Be a Pro, I decided not to include a chapter about taxes because the tax code changes all the time. There is plenty of info throughout the book about keeping track of expenses in preparation of tax season, but I skipped specific info about filing. Instead, I research taxes every year and post my findings on this blog.

First, I found this video on ehow. It's more about keeping track of deductions rather than forms, but she explains receipts very well. The presenter in the video has a whole series about Freelance Writing.

Taxes & Being a Freelance Writer —powered by eHow.com

And here are a few articles I found this morning. Click the links to read the full article.

Writing.org Taxes for Freelancers

Did you earn your first income from freelancing last year? If so, you're in for a new adventure: calculating your income and Social Security taxes as a self-employed person.
The basic principle of paying freelance taxes is simple: You add up your income, deduct your expenses, and transfer the net profit or loss to Line 12, "Business income (or loss)," on Form 1040.
Unfortunately, what's simple in principle can be complicated in practice. Here are a few guidelines to help you get started:

Tax Issues for Freelance Writers

Here are some tips and strategies for thinking about your taxes. There are special circumstances that apply to freelance writers and other independent professionals, so I will highlight what you need to know to prepare your taxes.

Being self-employed is quite possibly one of the best tax strategies available today. Unlike being an employee, freelancers are in full control of their financial and tax situation. But independence also comes at a cost. Independent contractors face higher taxes and more record keeping duties than employees.

I really like this next article, written by a freelance writer and business expert.

Blue Inkwell Taxes for the Freelance Writer

Setting up shop as a freelance is easy enough. Unfortunately, most novices don’t think about the tax implications of what they’re doing until their first tax season rolls around. Then the questions pour out.

What do I have to claim?

How do I deal with 1099s?

What classifies as a deduction?

Am I supposed to pay quarterly taxes?

I'll keep researching the tax code for 2011 and post what I find here. If you have any helpful articles, post the link in comments.

And good luck with the receipt hunt. Check your car. I found lots of Medusa receipts in mine.

Say No To SOPA

2012-01-17T18:44:00.000-08:00

Fresh Blood

2012-01-17T09:45:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like fresh blood to get the creative juices flowing again. It feels like Medusa's Muse is off life support, because my dear friend Ibis said, "Yes." Yes, she would love to help me run Medusa's Muse and market our books. Yes, because working for a micro-press sounds "interesting" and she'd like the creative challenge. Yes, because she's willing to work for no pay but lots of perks, like free business cards and twice a year dinners paid by the Muse.

Last weekend I took my publishing team out to dinner at a new Mexican/Yucatan restaurant. We all had something to celebrate: one birthday, a new book in the works, a new member of the team, and one dearly departed who we honored with a toast. The four of us chatted over a delicious meal and several glasses of wine. Jane, my diligent copy-editor, explained to Ibis about interacting with customers on line. Ibis, my new marketing assistant, nodded and asked questions while taking mental notes. I hope we didn't overwhelm her. Rick, my design director, tossed in a few ideas and mentioned how identifying the right book for the right group of people was key. I mostly sat and listened to the excitement at the table, throwing in my own ideas and thoughts, arguing with Jane over the term "framing the message," reassuring Ibis that I would help her and teach what needed to be done, and smiling at Rick, who really made the whole thing possible. Medusa may have been my dream and I may be the drive that holds the press together, but without his technical expertise, not a single book would have made it into the world.

Medusa's Muse feels like a brand new company, thanks to fresh blood and fresh energy. Thank you Ibis, for giving us your time and ideas. I think you're going to love book publishing.

The New and Updated Awesome Staff of Medusa's Muse, 2012

Terena Scott, Publisher/ Editor/Marketing Director

Jane Mackay, Co-Editor/Copy Editor

Rick Wismar, Book Designer and I.T Support

Ibis Klimicek de Villa, Marketing Assistant

Time and Deadlines and Focus

2012-01-10T17:04:00.000-08:00

Time is indeed the enemy. It speeds up then slows down, grows claws, whispers sweet nothings, makes promises, purrs you into sleep, then pulls the rug out from under you, laughing when you fall flat on your ass. No one has been able to control this wild animal; just when you think you've managed it, time learns a new trick and then runs away with the circus.

The only thing you can hope for is to somehow make friends with this beast, and accept the truth that you'll never really master it. Once you accept that, you can finally relax. So what if you didn't get your entire to-do list finished in one day? The list was probably too long anyway.

For the past three years, I've been on a deadline. School is nothing but deadlines: exams, papers, internships and classes. And you've got to get it all done in a set period of time, or you just keep paying more and more money.

I'm good with deadlines, but not so good at managing time.

I realized this as I was stressing out over getting all my lesson notes for my students caught up before the start of Winter break, while also finishing a book proposal, editing the new Medusa manuscript, and worrying that I hadn't read as many books as I said I would on Goodreads. My daughter was sick, my husband working all the time, the house a mess, and then I suddenly got the wild idea that I should clear out my entire house before the end of the year.

Self imposed deadlines to drive me frickin insane. I'm good at those.

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but this year I've decided to start. My goal for 2012 is to let go of the deadlines and make peace with time. There is never enough time in one day (or lifetime, I fear) to achieve everything I dream of. I'm one of those people who thrives on constant challenge. Maybe thrive isn't the right word. I compulsively hunt for the next challenge, even if it creates chaos and stress. This year, I told myself "No new challenges." I have plenty right here already.

The biggest one is Medusa's Muse. It has really struggled while I've been in school, but luckily the press is alive. How much longer will depend on how much time, energy and cash I can give it. We've signed a new book which I'm really excited about, so I need to get this publishing company back in top shape. And I need to breath more marketing energy into our previous books to see how much of a bump in sales we can achieve. I've asked a friend to join the team and help me with marketing; a new perspective will be great.

The other challenge I have, besides my new job of course, is my own writing. I have a new play to finish and another one I'd like to write. So I've made an early morning appointment with myself, just like if I was going to an exercise class. My daughter catches the bus at 7 AM. Once she's gone, and while still in my PJ's, I'll go into my room with my coffee and write for one hour. I've started doing that this week and it's amazing how much better I feel. I'm no longer wondering when the hell I'll get a chance to write; I know every morning from 7 to 8 I'll be blissfully working on my play. I know it's only an hour a day, but I'm amazed how productive I can be in that brief time.

Time is tricky, though. I'm like a little kid chasing dandelion fluff sometimes; I am constantly getting sidetracked. I get on the internet to check my mail, and two hours later I've learned about the whales in San Francisco Bay, a good recipe for persimmon pie, who the newest Disney Princess will be, how many of my Facebook friends like Tazo tea, what the next full moon is called, how to refinish an antique chair, and why it hasn't rained in California all winter. I checked one email message and then got distracted as soon as I clicked on a link my friend sent me.

I am no longer allowing myself to look at the internet before 8 AM.

Someday I'll learn time management. Maybe. I do pretty good actually, when I take into account everything I have to juggle on a daily basis. But the stress gets too high when I focus only on the to-do list and forget to enjoy my life. Forget to write. Forget to give my press the energy it needs to thrive.

Focus. That's what I need. So my New Year's resolution is to gain some focus and only give energy to the things already in my life. No more looking for shiny things over the next hill.

But wait... what's gleaming at the top of that tall mountain? I've never been there before. Maybe if I check out some maps and start hiking a little just to get close enough to see what that shiny thing might be...

The Constipated Muse

2011-12-30T19:51:00.000-08:00

My hubby and I ran away from home for Christmas: no cell service, no internet, no family, no stress. Our daughter went to stay with her dad for the holiday, granting us four days of nothing to do but lounge. We spent three nights at a B and B in Westport. Drinking wine in the afternoon and then walking on the beach while our dog ran across the sand was the perfect vacation to wipe away the stress of this hectic year.

When I returned home from vacation, my muse was waiting for me.

"Feel better?" she asked when I walked into my room.

Setting my overstuffed canvas suitcase on the floor, I said, "Yes. Much better. You?"

"Fine. I'm fine."

I studied her pursed lips, her folded arms, the snakes twined severely on the back of her head. "You don't look fine."

"Of course I am. It was a nice break. I'm glad you had fun."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I decided to stay here and read."

"Really? I thought you were going up to Alaska to play in the snow."

"I changed my mind." She reached out and brushed lint from the back of my office chair.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She nodded.

Shaking my head, I said, "Why don't I believe you?"

"I'm fine!" she snapped, taking a step away from me.

"Okay, you're fine. That's why you decided to stay home all alone and read books you've already memorized rather than go play in the snow with Alaskan wolves. And that's why you're holding your body so tight those snakes look like they might break in two if you sneeze."

She sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." I bent down and opened my suitcase.

"You wouldn't understand. It's a muse problem."

"Alright. We don't have to talk about it."

Pacing the room, she said, "It's painful and muses find it embarrassing, so we don't talk about it, especially not to our artists."

"If you say so." I pulled out a pile of mostly dirty clothes and threw them toward the hamper.

"I doubt you would even understand, but..." She stopped pacing and stared up at the ceiling. "Sometimes, we muses can get... backed up."

"Backed up?"

"Yes. Our energy can... get stuck."

I stood. "Stuck?"

"Yes. Stuck." Her lips pressed tightly as she stared at me, then she said, "It's very uncomfortable."

"Sounds like it. But what do you mean your energy gets stuck?"

"Sometimes the creative fires burn too hot and too much inspiration flows through me without an outlet. Since you're human, and busy..." She rolled her eyes."... you couldn't possibly handle the amount of creativity that needs release, and besides, you'd burn to a crisp, or at least your brain would."

"So it's like being horny?"

"No, not at all. After a while, too much repression leads to a slowing down of the inspirational flow, which causes the creative fire to back up. The fires build, but the outlet becomes blocked. This leads to actual physical pain for the muse."

"I see." She watched me closely as if judging if I was capable of grasping something so delicate and crucial to the muse experience. I took a deep breath and said, "It's more like being constipated."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Constipation. You know, when you really need to go but you can't, so all you feel is cramping and gas."

"I should have known that you'd imagine trapped creative energy feeling like the need to shit."

Suppressing a smile, I held out my hands to her. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to belittle this, I'm just trying to understand what you're going through so I can help."

"You can't help. You can only make jokes."

"I'm not laughing."

"Yes you are. You think I can't see that smile you're hiding."

"What can I do to help."

"Do you really want to help?"

"Yes, I really do."

"For starters you can finish the kids book immediately so you can finish the play. Then you can start the next play. And after that I'll tell you about the other book idea I have. I have lots of ideas to pump new energy into Medusa's Muse, including a new website and e-books. " She paced the room again. "Your workshop is ready to go forward and I have lots of thoughts on how and where to present the material. Also, you seem really excited about writing for kids, so I have several more possible subjects. And "Miranda" is waiting for you to finish, but I'm not sure that's where your passion lies anymore. Don't forget Burying Mama. You should just send it out into the wild again and see what happens." She whirled around to face me, her eyes shining. "Plus those two short stories are simply stellar, but of course need polish."

I sat down, suddenly feeling tired. "No wonder you're constipated."

Stamping her foot, she yelled, "I am not constipated!"

"I know, I know... I'm sorry. You have too many ideas for one artist. It's a big problem. I'm sorry I can't get all of your ideas done."

She gracefully dropped to the floor and sat with her legs criss-crossed. After a moment of silence, she said, "It's not your fault. It's mine. I push too hard. I want too much. Everything in the world inspires me, but the whole world is too full. That's why I stayed here in your room reading books I've already read a thousand times. I don't need any more ideas." She held her stomach tightly. "Ouch."

You need a good laxative, I thought, but decided it wise to keep my mouth shut. "I'll try to finish the kids book this week, if that will help."

"Thank you." She smiled at me. "But no pressure. Like I said, this is my fault. The creative flow is out of balance because I'm out of balance. It's time for me to focus, and help you focus, until we're both in harmony with the work. It just takes time."

Time. That seems to be the biggest problem of all.

Solstice: the holiday that celebrates nerdiness

2011-12-21T10:27:00.000-08:00

Solstice is a big event in my family. We decorate the Solstice tree, string the house with as many holiday lights as we can before blowing the fuses, and open most of our presents. It's the day we celebrate our family, just the three of us. There are no outside obligations, like mom wondering why we didn't invite her over, or long drives in Christmas traffic. We often have a few friends over to share a good meal and some good bottles of wine. It's a relaxed, carefree, do whatever we want, kind of holiday.

Plus, Solstice is really frickin cool!

Solstice is a celebration of the return of sunlight. The Sun has traveled as far to the southern horizon as it can get in our hemisphere and it will now begin to climb back toward the north, bringing longer days with more light. Yes, I know, the Sun isn't actually going anywhere, the Earth is doing all of the traveling, and it's the angle of the Earth in relation to the Sun that changes the Sun's position. Which is exactly why Solstice is so cool. The Earth has traveled to this specific position on it's journey around the Sun, marking the exact location where the days will begin to get longer for us. This is as dark as it's going to get.

Ancient peoples marked this occasion and celebrated with bonfires and music, which is where we get Christmas lights and Christmas carols (maybe I made that last one up). We can't light a bonfire in our yard anymore or the cops get upset, so we wind hundreds of colorful lightbulbs all over our homes to chase away the darkness, just as our ancestors did with their bonfires and candles.

I'm not a pagan (technically I guess I am because I'm not Christian), so my family doesn't attend the Pagan celebrations in our community. I guess you'd call me a Scientific Pagan; my holidays focus on astronomy and nature. I drink champagne when NASA sends a new probe into space, or when scientists discover something new about the universe. I was absolutely giddy when they discovered a new planet in the "Goldie Locks zone." And I cried when the last Space Shuttle flight landed. No more launches.

Solstice and Equinox are the holidays that let me fly my nerd flag, when I can debate with other nerds the exact time of day winter begins. The Winter Solstice happens at the exact same moment all over the world, and is officially clocked in Universal Time at 5:30 pm on December 22nd. But what is the exact time in our own timezone? Here is an article from Earthsky that will help you determine the exact clock-time for your timezone. For Pacific Daylight Time (my own timezone) I need to subtract 7 hours from the Universal Time (5:30 pm on the 22nd - 7 hours = 11:30 pm on the 21st). Did I do that right?

I'm a science nerd, but unfortunately not a math nerd.

The universe is more beautiful and mysterious than you can possibly imagine, filled with wonders and constantly evolving. As soon as you think you've got it figured out, a new discovery will shake your hypothesis into nonsense. And the Earth, our planet, our home, is this beautiful vessel filled with just as much beauty and wonder as the universe it was created from. We should honor that wonder. Recognize the impossible odds that allow us to be here.

This is why I celebrate Solstice. This is why I proudly call myself a nerd.

Enough with the Insecurity

2011-12-04T14:31:00.001-08:00

"Have you read your blog lately?" my Muse asks while storming into my room with a stack of books in her arms.

"Yeah. I wrote it didn't I?"

"Then you know how pathetic you sound lately."

"Pathetic?"

"Yes. Pathetic." She paces the room still holding the tower of uneven paperbacks. "Blah, blah, blah... I'm so insecure... I don't have any confidence... I'm so afraid... pathetic!"

"What are you talking about? I'm trying to help people."

"Help people? If helping people is showing what a complete wimp you are then you're doing an awesome job. Here! This is for helping people." She tosses the books at me.

Flinging out my arms to protect my head, I catch one of the flapping books as it heads for my eyes. Several land in my lap and the rest bounce onto the floor.

"Watch it!" I shout. "What the hell are you doing?"

She puts her hands on her hips and in a mocking tone says, "Helping you."

I look at the book in my hand. How to find meaning in the second half of life. "What's this?"

"It's a book to help you stop being so annoying."

Looking down at my lap I read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and Co-Dependent No More.

"Why are you throwing self-help books at me?"

"Because nothing else seems to be working. You're still the same insecure, terrified, wimpy little writer and editor you always were. Only now you're too old to blame it on youth."

"I am not."

"Yes you are."

"Not."

"Yes!"

"You're just mean!"

"God! You can't even argue like an adult!" My muse kicks Going to pieces without falling apart so hard the front cover rips.

"You know I grew up in a crazy household. It's taken me a very long time to get over it."

"But that's the problem, you still haven't. You're still living like that little girl, and at your age, it's boring."

"Will you please stop making cracks about my age."

"Not until you start acting your age. Then I might."

I stand and let the few books in my lap fall to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"Okay, I'm... you're... right."

My muse crosses her arms. "I am?"

"Yes, you're right. I have been too focused on my own insecurity, and yes I have been writing about it too much. I'm just nervous, that's all. But I'm working on it."

"Work on it harder."

"Okay, but you know you don't help when you throw self-help books at me."

"Be happy they weren't encyclopedias."

We stare at each other, our eyes not quite meeting for fear I might turn to stone. Her snakes stick out their tongues at me.

My muse sighs. "You really have no idea how talented your are, do you?"

I shrug. "I guess not."

"Well figure it out." She turns her back on me. "And stop wasting my time."

I look down at the floor and read, The places that scare you.

"Maybe if you didn't yell at me so much I wouldn't be so insecure."

She turns to face me again. "Don't try to blame this on me."

"You aren't exactly the nicest muse on the planet, you know."

"The niceness of muses is overrated. We're all bitches. And besides, do you want to be coddled or inspired?"

"Inspired, of course."

"Then pick up these books, read a few, and get back to work. Enough with the insecurity for frell's sake!"

I snap my fingers. "Just like that? You know it isn't that easy..."

"Yes it is. Stop writing about it, dwelling on it, thinking about it, and stewing in it. When you feel insecure push it aside, take a deep breath, and keep working. Simple."

I can't think of any way to respond, because the simplicity of her words is so... simple. But is it really that easy? Just stop thinking about insecurity and it will go away?

She reads my mind. "Yes, it really is that simple. If you stop feeding your fears, they die. God, I didn't have to read a single fucking self-help book to know that. Humans overcomplicate everything."

I shrug. "Okay then, I'll give it a try."

"Good." She walks out of my room, yelling, "And throw out those books, too."

Sabotage

2011-11-30T09:14:00.001-08:00

How many of you feel that if you're not earning money with your writing, then you're not really a writer? Deep down, do you feel doubt in your abilities as an artist if no one pays you for what you create? Does price denote value?

I do. That's why I dabble at writing. I write "when I have time." When all the bills have been paid and phone calls returned and emails sent, when the house is clean, dishes done, laundry folded and put away. When the plants have been watered and my desk cleaned off and all the grocery shopping done. Then, and only then, am I allowed to write.

And this attitude bleeds into Medusa's Muse too. I edit manuscripts because I owe that to my authors; I do it for them. But everything else, the promotion of my press, updating the website, marketing books, lining up teaching gigs, record keeping and networking... all of those things that help my press thrive get put on the list called "when I have time."

This is called sabotage. I am sabotaging myself by not dedicating the same focus and energy to my press and my writing that I gave to grad school. It was easy to give focus to grad school, because that would eventually lead to a job and a paycheck. A so called real job. My press is a job, but it doesn't make much money, therefore it doesn't feed my family. The press feeds itself. I can't justify devoting time to it when it doesn't sustain me economically.

Which is bullshit, because my press sustains me in every other way but economics. It feeds my soul, my spirit, my artistic needs and creativity. Writing feeds me in even deeper ways. Why does economics always take priority?

Yes, we have to eat and keep a roof over our head. Making money is very important, especially if you have children. We live in this world which requires sacrifice sometimes to survive. I'm not knocking the importance of work.

But we must not let that importance destroy the other things that are important, especially our art.

And if you find yourself saying things like, "I don't have time to write" or "The grocery shopping is way more important right now" then it's time to take a good long look at your priorities. Are you saying this because it's true? Or are you finding an excuse to quit, and in so doing sabotage yourself.

Sabotage. The power to destroy your art before you've devoted yourself to it.

I know I'm just as guilty as anyone of sabotage, and I'm trying hard to stop. My press is important, not just to my authors, but for the joy it brings me. So why do I just dabble at publishing rather than treat it like the job it is?

I don't know, other than I must believe on some deep level that I don't deserve to be a successful publisher and writer.

Is that how you feel?

Silence and Fear

2011-11-21T12:45:00.001-08:00

When I was 19, I dated a man who turned out to have serious mental problems and was prone to violence. I was able to run away. He hounded me for a few months, but finally he stopped. It took many years for me to feel safe again, to not jump every time I saw a man who looked like him. I stayed underground for a long time. Then, 20 years later, I started a book publishing company and set up a blog and website.

And that's how he found me again.

At first, I wanted to shut down my blog, delete the Medusa's Muse Facebook page, and strike my name from everything I'd ever written or published. I was petrified he'd show up on my front door one day after piecing together information he'd gathered from the net. And the idea that he was now reading about me and my family from four years of blog posts made me sick.

Do I have to destroy everything I've built just to feel safe again?

He wasn't threatening me; he said he just wanted to get in touch.

Why? What can possibly be gained by talking to me?

Staying silent seemed like the best option, and that included staying silent as an artist.

image from http://www.clubsilence.alt7.com/

How many of us have been silenced by fear of the past? Or afraid of what the power of our words could bring? How many writers have been gagged because others fear their words? For women, silence is particularly powerful. We are taught to stay quiet, because girls who speak their minds get punished.

He tried to contact me again, but I have decided not to shut down my press, or my blog, or website, or Facebook page. I will not change my name. I will not become quietly anonymous. I am no longer that terrified 19 year old girl hiding in the bathroom because she thinks her boyfriend is going to kill her, staying silent because he said if I made a sound he'd hit me. I am a grown woman with a voice and a vision and yes I'm still afraid. I'm afraid of him. But I won't allow that fear to silence me.

Not anymore.

Fourth anniversary of the launch of the first book I published, or, how I became an Orientation and Mobility teacher.

2011-11-09T08:54:00.000-08:00

This past weekend marks the four year anniversary of when I published the first book from my press, Medusa's Muse. Traveling Blind: Life Lessons from Unlikely Teachers, by Laura Fogg, is a memoir of Laura's 30 + years teaching children with vision impairments, and ultimately what those children taught her about life, love, loss, and joy. Laura has been my daughter's teacher since Queen Teen was 3, and when I discovered Laura was also a talented writer, I offered to publish her book. After a year-and a half of edits, revisions, and debates over cover design and font choices, her book was launched at the California Association of Orientation and Mobility Specialists Conference. The other teachers were excited and impressed, and we sold almost 100 copies in two days. Laura was ecstatic and I was thrilled. I was also intrigued by the other O and M teachers I met at the conference and the work they so obviously loved doing. A few days after the launch of Traveling Blind, I decided to go to Graduate School and become an O and M teacher too.

Four years later, I attended the Orientation and Mobility Conference again, this time as a credentialed O and M Specialist with a Master's Degree and a job working side-by-side with Laura. I'm still a publisher, but I'm also a teacher, working with visually impaired students throughout all of Mendocino County. It was a long, exhausting crawl to get my degree, as many of you saw if you've been reading my blog for the past three years, but so worth it. I love teaching, I love Orientation and Mobility, and I love my students.

The conference is held every other year in Monterey at a hotel right on the beach. About half of my classmates from SF State were there, as were my teachers. My main focus as a teacher was learning about GPS systems for the visually impaired because I have a student who may benefit from using such a device (see, I already sound like a teacher. "may benefit from using such a device." lol). On Saturday was a GPS treasure hunt in downtown Monterey where teams of six competed against each other to find all the clues and get to the last location before anyone else. Our leader was a visually impaired man who just so happens to be the President and CEO of Sendero Group, the manufacturer of the GPS we were using. Is that why we smoked the other teams, arriving 20 minutes before anyone else at the bar, where we waited near a warm fire and drank cold margaritas? But the best moments for me were when I got to spend time with my classmates, catching up on our lives and our teaching jobs while sharing wine and champagne. I've missed everyone so much! It's like we're part of a submarine crew, a small group of highly trained people sharing very specific experiences that hardly anyone else can really understand.

There was a raffle to raise money for the scholarship fund, so I donated four copies of Traveling Blind. As I was sitting in the audience listening to a speaker talk about the pros and cons of using GPS on a smart phone, it suddenly hit me how much my life has changed since the first time I was at this conference. Last time I was a publisher sitting behind a table covered in copies of Laura's book. Now I'm a teacher, just like Laura.

I'll always be a book publisher; no way will I give that up. But it's very hard to make a living publishing books, so I teach to support my book habit. Thank goodness I love my "real" job.

That's not my name! New Video from PRSMA authors Heavy Load

2011-11-04T09:24:00.000-07:00

"They call me retard... they call me mental... they call me special... THAT'S NOT MY NAME"

Right on!

Happy Halloween, from Medusa

2011-10-30T07:22:00.000-07:00

Medusa pumpkin carved by Ray Villafane. See more of his creations at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/picturegalleries/howaboutthat/8087634/Bizarre-Halloween-Jack-OLantern-pumpkins-carved-by-Ray-Villafane.html?image=4

Coffee with my muse

2011-10-25T16:24:00.000-07:00

"It's about time!" my muse says when she sees me sitting at the kitchen table typing away at my lap top.

"Hmmmm...." I mumble, still fixated on the screen.

She picks up my Wonder Woman coffee cup. "You're writing again."

"Trying to..." My voice shows how annoyed I'm feeling, but as usual she doesn't seem to care.

"Your coffee's cold." She takes a sip. "And you didn't put enough cream in it. You know I like a lot of milk in my coffee."

I stop typing and look at her. "Who's coffee?"

"You need a warm up." She crosses the room to the black and gray pot half filled with dark, strong coffee and pours some into my mug. Then she opens the carton of milk I left on the counter and fills the mug to the rim. Sipping, she sighs. "Perfect."

"Who's coffee?" I ask again.

Sitting at the table beside me, she drinks deeply and then nods at my lap top. "What are you working on?"

"The kids book."

"Good. I'm very excited about this project. It's a great subject."

"I'm glad you approve."

"I do. And then what?"

"Once this is done I need to finish editing the new manuscript for the press."

"Wonderful! And then?"

"I finish my play."

"Excellent. I can't wait to read it. And after that?"

"I finish my coffee." I take the mug out of her hands and hold it tightly.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Touchy."

"Did you need something?"

"Just seeing what you're doing."

"I'm writing. Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

"Yes. But I'm making certain you're really writing and not just commenting on Facebook."

"Facebook can be very stimulating."

"True, but it's not writing." She taps my laptop. "This is." Rising from her seat she smiles at me. "Carry on."

I set my mug on the table and start typing again, but I've lost my train of thought so I have to pause for a moment. Reaching for my mug, I realize it's gone.

Bitch

Introducing the newest Medusa's Muse author

2011-10-22T13:24:00.000-07:00

Right now I am preparing to edit a brand new manuscript from a brand new Medusa's Muse author. This is why I created a book publishing company: discovering new authors and fresh voices with a passionate story to tell. I've got my reading glasses on, my lap-top battery fully charged, a fresh cup of coffee, the manuscript opened in Word and "track changes" turned to "on." My muse is eagerly peering over my shoulder watching as I type notes inside the pages on my screen. Eventually she'll get a little bored; she finds editing tedious. But for now, she's just as fixated on this brand new Medusa's Muse book as I am.

The writer is Shannon Drury, author of The Radical Housewife. Click the link to explore her blog and get a taste of her writing. She's fabulous. A feminist housewife and mother living in Minnesota, and president of the Minnesota chapter of the National Organization for Women (NOW). Her story is exactly the type I look for. It's honest, funny, passionate, and the author doesn't quiet fit within any category. If she's a housewife, how can she call herself a feminist? She gets criticism from both conservatives and liberals, which means she's perfect for my Muse.

Of course, I'll get a lot more editing done if my daughter would leave me alone for more than 10 minutes at a time.

Depressed? Enter a Drag King contest.

2011-10-17T09:16:00.000-07:00

It was time to do something drastic. I've been living with depression for months and have had trouble writing even the simplest sentence. My press is languishing, despite the fact I've signed a new author, and my Muse is so bored she's threatening to move to Mongolia just for something to do. So I entered a Drag King contest.

The event was hosted by our local chapter of PRIDE to raise money for their community grants program. The theme was "Marie Antoinette" and the hosts of the event wore elaborate 17th century French gowns with oversized powdered wigs. The stage manager wore a man's suit in the same style, complete with powdered wig and powdered face. The audience came in costume, some inspired by the theme and others simply celebrating Halloween. My husband wore a kilt and Valkyrie outfit, torpedo boobs, braids, horned helmet and all. I wore a blue velvet frock coat with lace cuffs and my shiny black boots, my hair slicked back. And then I drew a mustache and goatee using a .99 Wet and Wild eyeliner pencil. With my little round glasses I felt more "Sergeant Pepper" than French Revolution.

I performed to Depeche Mode's "Martyr" which gave me lots of opportunity to interact with the audience. Kind of sexy, very danceable, the song is all about giving yourself completely to love, even if it destroys you.

"I've been a martyr for love

And I will die in the flames

As I draw my last breath

As I close in on death

I will call out your name"

So much drama to work with! It was great. The audience cheered and waived dollar bills at me, tucked them in my boots and down my shirt, swooned when I knelt at the feet of one woman, laughed when I used my mic as a... lets just say prop. I had so much fun lip syncing and dancing it was hard not to leap on tables (they were plastic. it would have been a bad way to end my routine).

Judging was done by audience cheers, and the cheers were split between me and another woman in drag. Because it was so close, we had a dance off. I was already winded from my performance, now I had to dance one-on-one with a 24 year old girl who could dance circles around my tired 44 year old ass. I just leapt all in, acting cocky and sexy and wild.

And I won.

My Muse has agreed to stick around just in case I do something this much fun again.

And now I can't wait to get back to work on my play.

And start editing this new manuscript.

And blog more.

Yes, dancing in drag has definitely fired up my creativity.

The futility of art

2011-09-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

Zine Fest was... in the words of a regular vendor, dead. The building was packed with tables and people trying to get a little attention for their artwork and zines. Teenagers stood next to stacks of hand-stapled zines full of angst ridden ink drawings. More polished and professional comic books with vibrant colors and bizarre characters competed with glossy photo books. A young woman was giving away her zine, "Shards of Glass in my Eye," for trade or a compliment. A few authors tried hard to sell their self-published books, but were mostly lost in the clutter of Anime tchotchke and hand-made jewelry. We were there, sitting at a table with Medusa's Muse books and a mannequin wearing a "Punk Rock Saved My Ass" t-shirt. Charles Gatewood shared some of our table, and beside him was V. Vale of Re/Search, our usual table mates from the previous two book events.

I walked the hall once to see who all was there and what they were selling, and I was really impressed with the quality of the zines, even the ones so obviously hand-made. The amount of talent and dedication was incredible, and at the same time, overwhelming. At every table sat yet another eager artist with a brilliant idea, trying hard to meet my eyes, hoping I'd buy one of their creations. It was too much. After 30 minutes of wandering I practically ran back to my own table to hide, unable to look at one more beautifully drawn image. They're all so desperate. Do I look like that, sitting here at my table watching the few visitors walk by? Are they thinking the same thing I did? Oh no, another artist looking for validation.

Despite the long hours, hard work, costs and sometimes sleepless nights, we keep creating. We all have ruthless muses who demand blood sacrifice, and only a finished page or completed painting will appease them. And even though occasionally we all end up sitting behind tables at festivals trying to sell something we made, while being intimidated by the guy next to us who made something so amazing we feel like hacks, we keep trying. Which is a good thing.

What's my point? I guess I'm just acknowledging the futility we artists are forced to live with. We create something we're passionate about, send it into the world, and are then crushed by the deafening silence from others. Half the time, nobody gives a shit. The other half of the time, people find it good but only three of those will actually pay you for your work. No wonder writers tend to drink.

Stare futility in the eye and tell it to piss off!

You're an artist; if no one buys your book at a crummy little book fair, so what?

And if a half-wit publisher like me sends you a rejection letter, do what Henry Miller did and hang it on your bathroom wall as backup toilet paper. Or was that Hunter S Thompson?

Futility is the vampire of creativity. Sharpen your stake to scare it off.

And keep working.

No more submissions accepted in the Summer

2011-08-29T10:47:00.000-07:00

That's going to be the new policy here at Medusa's Muse: no submissions accepted during the Summer months, from June until September. I received four queries this summer, of which I declined two. I requested the other two send me their complete manuscript, and I am STILL trying to finish them. Those poor authors have been waiting 2 months. In the publishing world, that ain't long to have to wait for a decision. I once had to wait 7 months for an agent's response after I sent her my complete manuscript. 7 months of checking the mail like there might be a magic spell on the box; could create good things, could be a bomb. After all that time, she complimented my writing, but turned down the book. Talk about a kick in the gut.

Because I know what it's like to have to wait for a response from an agent or publisher, I try to respond to all queries within a month, but obviously that doesn't happen in the summer. When my daughter is out of school, book publishing comes to a screeching halt. Nothing else gets done around here either (you should see my yard... yikes). Rather then get frustrated or resentful, I've decided to cut back on the hours I devote to Medusa's Muse during the summer.

Summer is over now... or at least, summer vacation is over for my daughter... so here I am, back in the publishing chair. I've dusted off my lap-top, created a new to-do list (how the frell did it get so long?), ordered more books from the printer and some t-shirts from the designer. Zine Fest is next weekend and I'm eager to meet readers and sell some books. Maybe I'll find a new writer with a great story while I'm there.

Speaking of, I'm getting excited about the submission I'm reading now. Time to finish it and decide if this is something Medusa's Muse can publish. The writer is waiting.

Blog 2 Print

2011-07-30T20:14:00.000-07:00

Blogger is advertising a service called, Blog 2 Print, with which you can turn your blog into an actual, bound book. Out of curiosity, I decided to give it a try.

You can choose which posts from your blog you'd like, or just choose all of them, including pictures, and then the program does the page layout and creates a numbered table of contents. I decided to publish the first year of my blog, which turned out to be about 30 pages in the book, for a cost of around $20.00. I designed the cover, then decided on the paperback version, rather than hardbound, to save money. I wanted to see the quality of their cheapest option.

Overall, I'm pleased with the results. The finished book looks like an 8" by 11" chapbook and the paper quality is great. The images are true and crisp. It's nice having a bound version of my blog to read and see the progression over time of my posts and events, much easier than clicking on "older posts." I think this could be a really nice option for people who have a blog for their poetry or artwork (there's a book option for blogs that are primarily images) and want to create a chapbook to show to possible editors. This isn't a cost effective option if you want to make a lot of books, though. $20.00 per book is a lot of money for a chapbook to sell to readers, but for gifts or to show off your blog at conferences, it's a great option.

There may be other options out there for a better price per unit, so I'll do some research. Do any of you know of other Blog 2 Book type services?

another reason to hate my muse

2011-07-22T11:52:00.000-07:00

I let the kitchen door slam behind me as I walk outside into the heat. Squinting, I see my Muse lounging in a hammock in the sun, wearing a gold, string-bikini so small I wonder why she bothers.

"Will you give it a rest, for frell's sake!" I yell.

She lifts her oversized designer sunglasses from her eyes to stare at me. "What?"

"Stop giving me all these damn ideas! You know there's no way in hell I'll ever be able to write them down, let alone complete any of them!"

"So?"

"So? It's summertime! Queen Teen is out of school. I hardly have time to pee."

She shrugs and puts her sunglasses back on. "That's not my problem."

"Yes it is, so knock it off. Stop sending me images of Art Deco living rooms and single-wide trailers and rainbows and Depression Era music and Johnny Depp impersonators and fan dancers and everything else you like to conjure while I'm busy taking care of my daughter and cleaning this house."

"Again, it's not my problem. I am supposed to send you those ideas. You are supposed to write them down. Whether or not you think you have time to do so is not a consideration."

"God, I really hate you sometimes!"

She smiles. "I know."

Summertime Writer's Blues

2011-07-18T19:36:00.000-07:00

With just 37 hours to go the Amsterdam Project needs only $600 to make their goal and get their project off the ground. Please, support DIY and Medusa's Muse authors. Go to the Kickstarter page to make your pledge. If everyone just gave a buck, the Amsterdam Project would be green-lighted.

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Today is July 18th, and I have written exactly 11 pages since June 20th. 11 frickin pages. My hand is healed enough to type for short periods of time, but my injury isn't what's stopping me from working on my play or my essays or my short stories or even my blog.

My daughter is out of school for the summer. There will be no writing.

I love my daughter, challenges and all. She has multiple-disabilities, including mobility problems and deaf-blindness, so typical summer activities like summer camp and swim team aren't options for us. She's also very bright, and hates the heat. I use all of my creative energy finding ways to keep her entertained in the house, but by mid-July we've run out of ideas. I'm sure I'm not the only parent feeling the pain of a house full of bored kids, even without contending with disabilities. And if you're a creative type like me, I'll bet your kids are watching a lot of movies and playing a lot of video games.

Stop feeling guilty and go write something.

Running

2011-06-29T09:36:00.000-07:00

Lacing my fingers together, I straighten my arms forward, feeling the tightness in my fingers. There's a twinge in my right thumb still, but the swelling is down and the pain reduced to a slight ache. I release my fingers and wiggle them one by one. My right hand is weak from being encased in the brace for weeks. But I'm happy to see that I can type again, although it still feels awkward and I keep making mistakes. Tricky to type without using your thumbs.

Writing is a lot like running; the more time that passes between runs, the harder it is to get back into it. My brain feels as slow as my hands. What do I want to write about? Why has it become so difficult to write one paragraph? Remember when I could write several blog posts for both blogs in one sitting? That was a long time ago. Now I feel like I'm starting from the beginning again, learning how to form complete sentences and compact ideas.

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Not writing has given me plenty of time to plan new projects for Medusa's Muse, and I've received some interesting submissions, one that was down right excellent. I have also been rethinking one of my projects that has become a logistical nightmare, and I believe I've found a solution. It will still be tricky doing long distance interviews with elderly people who don't use the internet, but I'm passionate about this book, and with help from Rick, I can manage. It'll just take longer than I planned (doesn't it always?). Jane's anthology is progressing well and she's received quite a few well written pieces. And the YA branch of Medusa's Muse has it's first manuscript in development, a novel being written by Rick and I.

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Young Adult books, the hottest market in books right now. People complain that kids aren't reading, but they're wrong. It seems the only people reading these days are kids, especially teenaged girls. I have a lot of homework to do to understand the needs of this market, though, and luckily I have two friends who write for YA to help me. What do YA readers want from a book? Besides just the requirements of the general YA market, I need to understand the needs of YA readers who also have disabilities. For that, I need to find some young adult readers to provide feedback while a book is being written. I have a pretty good idea of what kids with disabilities deal with as they enter their teens from my experience with my daughter, but she's just one kid. I could use a few more kids to let me know what they want to read.

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My own writing has been slow, but I did finally finish my first full length play and submitted it to our local theatre company for a possible staged reading. It took three years of revisions to fix the ending, but at last it feels complete. Wish me luck.

Okay, that's enough typing for now. Don't want to over-do it on the first day. Again, like running, you have to pace yourself or you'll cramp up and have a set back. I don't want to be so sore tomorrow I can't write again.

But before I sign off, do you have any good YA book recommendations?

Book Review - Reclaim Your Dreams

2011-06-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

Because my hand injury has blessed me with more free time (trying to stay positive, people), I was finally able to read Reclaim Your Dreams, by Jonathan Mead. It's been sitting on my virtual reading stack for a year, ever since I asked him for a review copy. Creative people who are able to follow their artistic dreams and still keep a roof over their heads inspire me; it's the impetus behind the creation of Medusa's Muse.

Reclaim Your Dreams provides a simple, step-by-step, plan for discovering what your passion really is, and how to overcome the roadblocks that prevent you from living that passion. This concise ebook is full of practical advice and exercises to help you stay focused, written with a personable and entertaining voice. But this book doesn't just tell you to lose the fear and take the leap; it asks the hard questions too, like what are you willing to give up to live your dreams? What kind of lifestyle changes are you willing to make? What are your personal values?

What sets it apart from similar books on personal development is how concise it is. Jonathan Mead writes passionately about the subject, but doesn't wander off into long-winded personal stories or diatribe. He really does show how simple, and yet how difficult, changing your life can be. When I started reading, I would occasionally roll my eyes and think, "Yeah, right. But what about...?" As if reading my mind, in the very next section he would answer my question and ease my skepticism. He validated my trepidation about the process while also showing me that the process he created really can work.

This ebook is meant to be used as a tool, not just a book you read and forget. The formatting and links make it easy to use and find the information you need. After you've read the ebook, you can keep it with you on your smart phone and read different sections and meditations to help you stay on track. And Jonathan Mead's website, Illuminated Mind, is filled with more tools and articles supporting the exercises in Reclaim Your Dreams. Plus, the author appears to be available for any questions and concerns the reader may have. He is passionate about helping others.

E-book available from the website.

Have a favorite book that keeps you inspired? let me know in the comments section.

Swim in other people's words

2011-06-04T09:43:00.001-07:00

"I've decided that you are far too exhausted to create anything right now," my Muse declares while she watches me struggle to type without the use of my right thumb.

"I'm okay. I'm getting used to this." I adjust the sling on my hand. "It just slows me down is all."

"I'm not talking about your hand, although that is the most apparent symptom of exhaustion."

"Really... I'm fine."

"Stop typing and look at me."

My hands freeze above my keyboard and I am suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in my thumb. Swiveling my chair around to face her, I pretend not to feel any pain. "What do you have to say?"

"You have that look in your eye, the same one I saw on Frida's face when she stopped sleeping because she couldn't stop painting."

"You were Frida Kahlo's muse?"

"No. I am friends with her muse and I visited from time to time. She's not the only one. Sometimes you artists push yourselves too far, as if you think you're going to run out of time to create something."

"You're the one constantly nagging me to keep writing."

She sighs. "It's true. I've pushed you too hard, I fear. I was simply trying to keep you writing despite the ridiculous amount of time you spent in graduate school."

"It wasn't ridiculous!"

"Let's not argue about that. You're missing the point." She holds out her arms to me and I stand, taking one of her hands in my good, left one. Leading me to the mirror, she says, "Look at yourself."

I see the dark circles under my eyes against my too white skin, the lank hair, the dry lips. I see the weariness in my dull eyes looking back at me in the mirror. Looking down, I see my right hand encased in a black brace, the swollen thumb isolated for protection. More than just my hand, I feel how much every muscle in my body aches from fatigue.

"What do I do?" I ask.

My muse smiles. "Rest."

"Not gonna happen. I'm a mom."

"Rest your mind. Don't worry so much about writing or revisions or deadlines. Swim in other people's words for a while and soak them up. Take in creativity, because your own energy reserves are on empty."

"But I have two pieces I have to write."

"Write them next week if you must, but don't start any new projects. You need time to refuel that vast pool of artistic energy you normally have. Anything you try to create right now will be utter crap, anyway. Plus, if you don't let your hand heal, you'll be in much worse pain and unable to write at all."

Looking back at my reflection, I murmur, "Swim in other people's writing..."

"Yes. Look at that stack of books you've been wanting to read." She nods her head toward the 30 books I have stacked in an uneven tower leaning against the end of my bed. "Read three of those before you even think about revising your play."

"But I have so little time and so many ideas..."

"Pooh! You have plenty of time. You're only 44. Why are you trying so hard to burn out before you're 50?" She leans her hands against my dresser and stares into the mirror, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me. "And lets not forget who gives you all those ideas. If you ignore my advice to rest, I won't help you with any of them."

"That's blackmail!"

"Call it what you like." She walks to the stack of books and picks up The Traveling Death and Resurrection Show. "Start with this."

I catch the book she tosses me.

This is gonna slow me down!

2011-06-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

Ever tried writing without a thumb? Tricky!

The worst part is I don't remember hurting it. I have a terrible feeling it's related to my ongoing problem with tendinitis in that thumb, but it's never been this bad. My thumb is swollen and throbs from my nail to my palm. I've tried resting it but it's a little hard to do with my daughter who sometimes uses my thumb as a handle to support herself with (not my idea, but it seems to be the easiest thing to grab when she's falling).

I'm taking this as a sign that I should read more and write less. I've got a stack of books and many blogs I've been wanting to read, so it's the perfect time to do so. Got a good blog I'd enjoy? Leave a comment and let me know.