february ain’t so lovely

I’ve been running my art “business” since the year began. It hasn’t been that long but I’ve certainly had my ups and downs since the first of January.

ko-fiI’ve come across a fair amount of hiccups for one starting out a small business/debuting as a freelancer… however you’d like to see this venture.

They’ve varied quite a bit from a laptop no longer able to take my constant load of work to the feng shui of my room/office. It’s all getting to me.

So let’s begin with what had to be done about my laptop.

He needed to get rebooted for one but not before I was able to transfer all my files out which did pose a great problem. I didn’t have enough storage space in my eight-year-old external hard drive. The good thing about it though is that I’ve actually been making money at this time. I dodged the bullet. I bought another WD hard drive. Moved all my stuff… but what am I going to work with now? Thankfully, my supportive sister offered to invest in my art. Okay, cool. Got a new equipment specifically for my art needs. Awesome. But then my drafting table became too short in length and too wide for actual workspace. I couldn’t maneuver around the desk. It was a disaster. Within a week, I felt cramped, overstuffed, and overwhelmed. Continue reading

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friends lead to tears | rant

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Everyone has a point of breaking. I find that mine is often when I talk about my struggles with depression, the lack of support I received, the lack of family and friends I was able to reach out to, and the misconstrued perception of depression.

Some have said, we cry during arguments and discussions because we feel so deeply about the subject. Oh, how true this is.

As all my readers here know, I have depression. It’s not something I contracted from someone else or not something I can drive away with medicine. It’s there and will always be a part of me. It’s tiresome hearing people take it lightly or think of it as a joke just as much as I think it’s not okay to laugh when someone tells you a story about abuse or bullying. It’s not okay to say that you are smart and turn around and do stupid things you know are stupid.

It’s never going to be okay.

My family is like that.

When I talk to friends, I always end up tearing up or crying because they’re the family I’ve chosen for myself. They’re the family that I know I’ve chosen because they understand or are willing to.

So when people tell me, you should love your family, I want to say, but do they love me? Do they love me enough to understand or WANT to understand? Do they love me and choose to be better people? If you have someone in your life struggling, would you really laugh at a stranger who is also struggling? You wouldn’t if it were you struggling. You wouldn’t because you know but you don’t need to know to WANT to understand.

I’m especially critical of my parents who preach day in and day out the Catholic beliefs, who go to church every Sunday, my mother who is part of a choir, goes every first Friday. She gossips. A LOT. She bullies. She’s mean. She pretends to be saintly. She talks behind people’s back. She believes she is her best self even though she knows she does all those. I have pointed it out more than I wish I have had to. My father, he is close-minded. He is a victim of my mother’s bullying but is a bully himself. He is mean. He is a racist. He gossips. He criticizes while turning around and doing the same things he has criticized. And to him, I also point out the flaws I wish they’d correct.

I tell them over and over again, the same way I have to repeat, I am depressed regardless of the smiles. I have to repeat, it takes all my energy to get up. I get dressed to pump myself up for today. I have to give myself a pep-talk, positive affirmations because they don’t. I think better of myself so that I can better.

Why is all of this important?

Why wouldn’t it be?

If you think that just because you practice a religion or something you’re automatically a good person, then you’re dead wrong. You have to actually be a good person in the way you act, not the way you pray. And if you tell people to love their parents, know their situations first. I do love mine but sometimes, I don’t and that’s okay. I don’t have to love my bullies—who would.

being a bad friend

 

After watching the above video, I got to thinking about how I was like growing up. What type of person and artist was I?

I was probably the friend who bullied a Suzy. I grew up thinking that I was great at art and I was especially exceptional in comparison to others. I’ve obviously learned otherwise. Not only did I learn it the hard way, or that I didn’t improve because of similar reasons to this video but also I also became a better person because I realized how I’m really not all the bee’s knees.

I’d just like to point out, I was not the friend mentioned in the video and I don’t know Lemia Crescent personally. I only thought to make this blog because I felt like in some way, I was that sort of friend and thinking about it, I felt quite disappointed in past me. Lol

Setting aside how I grew up and what lies were being filled into my head, I was the kind of child surrounded by toxic personalities. In Georgiana, I talk about this poisonous environment I surrounded myself in but that was teenager me. What I recall now is somewhere around the time I was nine or ten. I was in grade school and around a year or two of living in States (because I moved when I was 8 from the Philippines).

Everybody thought I was quite talented and no one seemed to hold a candle to my innate skills. As a child, I thought, wow, I’m so wonderful. So wonderful became so great, so creative, and overall the best creation of God… well, not to that extreme but my ego did swell.

Around the time I was nine or ten, a newly immigrated Filipino girl (ie not me but sounds like me) enrolled in the same school. She was talented and she was smart. As you know, I had issues with others being smarter than me because of how I grew up. So, right off the bat, I didn’t like her.

I didn’t treat her well and when I did, it was to save face. I was the goody-two-shoes type of girl and I wasn’t going to break that image even though I was extremely jealous.

Thinking about it now, I bred a lot of negativity between my set of friends and hers. Behind each others’ backs, we talked about each other. And before you say, how do you know she talked bad about you, I only found out later on in high school that that was the case. I wasn’t liked and to be honest, I wouldn’t have liked me either. I was a slight snobby and a lot like a maldita (which means a real pain in the butt lol to put it nicely). I wasn’t the best person I could be. I wish now that I had just befriended her and shared our interests with each other. Maybe at some point, we did talk but all I could remember is this younger version of me hating on her.

I guess, overall, this was another one of my reflections and goes to show how proud I am of me for the growth I’ve achieved in the last two years. I’m sure that if I had looked back at this before my healing journey, I wouldn’t have thought much about it. I hope she’s doing well and that she’s still drawing if not professionally then as a hobby because if memory serves me right, she was one heck of an artist.

it isn’t in writing that i am often at a standpoint

Or in creating art for that matter.

But what is life without the struggles?

It’s interesting to note, I am a far more calm person nowadays than I was, say some months ago and even more so in comparison to my 23-year-old self. I still have difficulties containing all of my anger but I’d say that I am more patient and understanding of the situations occurring around and to me.

That said, it’s a bit saddening that even after the ten years of writing my novel, Listening to Georgiana, I couldn’t afford the editor. Also important to note is, I didn’t plan on spending money for my novel.

It never registered in my head that when I finished writing that there would be people who would want to read it. I never imagined I would go looking for an editor because I wanted the best for Georgiana. I knew I was attached. Of course, I am. She is my alter ego. The novel is the story of what my life has been, my journey.

When money presents itself in the equation of my life, I’m often unable to move forward.

I’m hoping that 2018 will be a different matter.

I’ve already come across a few shortcomings because of money and it’s only been what, seven days since the new year began? I can do this. I will keep trying. I will save up. I will invest. I will be able to do this.

I am far more capable mentally and emotionally than I was two years ago in handling setbacks.

I can do this.

the search for a developmental editor

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Yes, you read correctly. I’m looking for a developmental editor.

I recently joined Reedsy. It’s a platform where professionals like editors, publishers, and even designers can gather and find the right person for their project.

So, ya’ll know I finished my novel about Georgiana—about my life— and after half a year of contemplation, I decided I really want to get this done the right way. If I was to share the novel and publish it physically, I want it done right. Not just me editing my own writing. I want someone outside of my eyes to just wreck it. Write all over my work. Find the holes to my plot. I want it done right! Darn it. But we all also know I’m not close to being financially stable.

My art career only recently started gaining momentum. I’m not getting a stable enough income if any at all so there’s really nothing there to rely on.

But I did it anyway. I went and inquired about getting myself a developmental editor. Lo and behold, I’ve found two currently who are willing to take on Listening to Georgiana after reading a 600+ words excerpt, the scene in Chapter One, Evangeline. I feel like, if you were captured by that moment, you and I are going to get along well. That was my first impression. Then you get to the quotes. Oh, the quotes! One says over $2000 and another says under but still over that comfortable threshold amount of a dependent, struggling twenty-five almost twenty-six dare I say.

What is my comfortable threshold amount you don’t ask? $100. Do you know what else I paid for with that kind of money? For one month, I paid my psychiatrist that and I didn’t come back to her because the next $100 was just too uncomfortable. Every  month I have to pay my student loan and let me tell ya, I’m always uncomfortable with the money I dish out.

So, I ask myself, am I even ready to walk the path of publishing a book? Should I wait until the art side of my life has stabilized enough for me to be able to give focus to this part of me? The writer part of me?

I don’t know.

Followers, who are authors, what do you guys think I should do? It’d be really great if an editor could at least allow me to pay in small increments but I know how ridiculous that may sound. If that was asked of me as an artist, I probably wouldn’t agree to it.

Oh great ones, once again bestow your wiseness. I’ll most likely lurk around my usual writers on WordPress and look through their old posts about their experiences. All are welcome to leave me an advice.

edit; I was reminded that I should also add that upon receiving said quotes from each editor, one gave me a sample of how they’ve worked with another author before. Two actually! She gave me two samples. The less pricey one edited the 600+ words, gave me a breakdown of her rates, and the EFA Dec 2017 rates.

I’d like to point out that Reedsy is supposed to be a secure site and the creators and staff try to only accept professionals with trustworthy backgrounds. In the profiles of each professional, they give a long description/cv of their career. There’s also a list down the page of their profile of books they’ve edited before. They’re also pretty open to giving samples of their work and straightforward about the other details that a beginner like me wouldn’t know to ask about.

I mean, I’ve done a lot of research in the past year and even just half the year of 2017 about editing, publishing my own book, other paths I could possibly take like printed copies or ebooks but even then I still wouldn’t be able to ask every question I should be asking. So, I was really thankful that both editors were willing to walk a mile long to explain to me their own procedures.