Writers and the Doubting Blues

       … and one small measure that might help, aside from a good night’s sleep.

Writers, we go along this path impassioned by our thoughts and inspirations, characters, and twisting plots. We read as much as we can about writers block, contract mishaps, predators, friends struggles, long journeys, and depression. We might begin writing as the most optimistic person and still things happen that can bring you down.

Take depression, the blues, that low-down isolated feeling. Writers are isolated.  No matter what, you are going to find yourself alone at some point—because, hey writers take what’s in their brains and put into the world in physical form, and that needs a little think/inspiration/muse time.

You can either embrace the aloneness, which many of us do, or become swallowed by it. And many of us do. I’ve certainly had my days of doubt. Some days I’m better at moving through it. I’ve had to develop skills for this. My mother has suffered depression all my life.

Maybe you experience mood swings, and who hasn’t, whether from cyclical body rhythms, diet or life events. You may feel physically alone. That’s par for the course, the weight of responsibility and anxiety for the future, or fear.  It’s human. We go there. We can visit or we can stay.

In the beginning of my writing journey— not all the way to five years old, but during my definitive push for publication I read so many stories of others and the pitfalls, the things that can go wrong, I thought I was prepared mentally. I wasn’t going there. It can’t happen to me because I “know” better. It’s an illusion and I’ll push it away, I might tell myself.

On a few accounts, I’ve felt the wall of the blues pressing on me in physical form, at times when I had no reason to feel blue.

I found my diet at the time to be rich in sugar and processed foods. I unwittingly experimented with this idea, by eating most of my children’s Halloween candy and for the next two days felt glum and downtrodden. When I figured out the diet connection, many of my mood swings, and much of my anxiety calmed down or disappeared completely.  My diet was key to my feelings, and how well, strong and energetic I felt. Now I’ve become gluten intolerant. As I grow older I find I must constantly fine-tuning my diet. I steer clear of chemically produced produce as well. Trial and error worked for me.  It’s heredity. Many in my family have health issues, and never make the diet/food connection. They keep on their habitual food path and continue to suffer.

Guess what I want to say is depression, blues, low-down feelings are real, and it never fully goes away. What I mention here are blues with no known reason, not the stress or depression of dealing with life’s unexpected burdens. Life is filled with ups and downs, all the gorgeous and messy fodder we need for our stories. Writers are like warriors, taking life’s blows and reliving them on the page for others to experience.  Maybe we can ride the fear like a wave, knowing the doubts will pass eventually if we can float above the waters of emotion.

Some days I can dissolve the blues by running outside, along the Hudson River. It’s the best to help me de-stress, and I usually follow it up with a thirty-minute meditation on the pier, weather permitting. That’s my perfect day.  Most everything rolls off of me after a 5k run -- even my teens’ maniac bickering the moment I walk in the door.

What are some of the ways you beat the writer-low-down blues or writer-isolated-doubts?  Because we’ve ALL been there. But we sure don't want to stay. 

A Tiger In The Jungle.

King Tacho hanging out with me in my new office. 

MG Book Review: Anywhere But Paradise by Anne Bustard.

Anywhere but Paradise by Anne Bustard
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I won Anywhere But Paradise in a giveaway, and thoroughly enjoyed reading this historical middle-grade book. Thanks, Egmont!

12-year-old, Peggy Sue has moved from Texas to Paradise, aka Hawaii. What a fluid, transporting entrance into the story it is. In its visual splendor, you’re sent back to 1960, Hawaiian Island Oahu, filled with sunshine, hula, salt, and hibiscus flowers. But Peggy Sue isn’t happy. Not happy at all.

She misses her understanding grandparents, her home in Texas, and worst of all, her cat has to stay in quarantine for 120 days! He’s slipping away, not purring, and barely notices her when she visits. If that’s not bad enough, she’s being singled out for Kill Haole Day, which is what the locals call her kind, the kind of people who dethroned their Queen Liliuokalani in 1893. Who continue to take their jobs, make them do all the work, or at least that’s what Peggy Sue’s nemesis, Kiki, tells her. And Kiki wants revenge.

Peggy Sues starts a couple odd jobs to earn enough money so she can fly back to Texas. She makes a friend in Malina, who helps her start a sewing business. It’s something Peggy Sue is really good at – and Kiki knows this and exploits her talents, bringing them a little too close for comfort.

The pacing is snappy; the chapters are quite short, making for a brisk read. And just when you think everything is simmering down – a terrible disaster strikes, and reorganizes many of Peggy Sue’s held beliefs. It changes her way of thinking and eventually changes the way others view her. She’s quite a tough cookie, even when she doesn’t think so.

A few historical events are entwined in this book, which makes for fun research later. The end is unexpected. An all around great read for 8-12-year-olds, and as someone who had to move too many times growing up, it’s very relatable and at times, a little scary.


View all my reviews

My BEA 2015

This year I attended first Book Expo of America. And IT. WAS. AWESOME. I began my day meeting my editor, of Leap Books, Judith Graves, in the cafeteria. Informal and splendid, I've learned that I must have one of the coolest editors out there.  She’s multi-talented, wise and plays guitar! Both of us, musicians and writers, we connected like a 3/4-time signature, storytellers through and through. Even Thoreau was a musician. The essay, On Duty and Civil Disobedience, figures prominently in The Unmoving Sky, my YA suspense with Leap Books. (Spring 2016)

Three "generations" of Leap Books. Judith Graves, founder, Laurie Edwards, and Shine author, K.L. Hallam.

Back to BEA. I was nervous, not knowing what to expect.  The unknown is what often causes us anxiety. But once I got there, everything opened up and I found my place. I meet with, Gail Nall, talented MG & YA author and Kidliterati contributor. She showed me the ropes: how to stand in line, and WAIT. Yeah, that’s pretty much the rhythm of BEA, a lot of waiting, standing and searching for a place to charge your phone. I used the handy-dandy BEA app, which worked fine enough for me. I noticed many print outs in the hands of other attendees, (the pros). But I got by.

Me with YA & MG author, Gail Nall.

I stopped in at a couple of the Blogger/Social Media talks, one of which was supposed to show authors and publishers how to utilize social media for their book sales, but that talk turned into a sales job for Bookgrabbr. And one, meek voice in the crowd stepped up to call them out on it. They immediately apologized and threw us a bone. I enjoyed listening to best-selling authors, Juliana Baggott, Elin Hilderbrand, Kimberla Lawson Roby, talk about their writing process. I always love hearing how authors use their time and writing techniques. I spent Thursday at BEA, and in the morning the exhaustion and excitement hit me like a hangover. And while BEA was in town, along with several writers from my amazing and supportive group, Kidliterati, we gathered that Friday night. It was the icing on the cake!  But we sure did miss the others.  

Benjamin Brooks, Brian Sargent, Chris Brandon Whitaker, Ella Schwartz, Melanie Conklin, Gail Nall, and (me) K. L. Hallam #mgbetareaders. Only 8 representing our 24 members of Kidliterati.

Until Next year BEA! 

A Little Surprise I Found Today

While searching the title of my forthcoming (debut) novella, The Unmoving Sky, from Leap/Shine Books, I found this:


"The north celestial pole points due north, toward the North Star, or Polaris, which mythmakers recognized as The Unmoving Sky god they relied on to uphold the cosmic order. Because the sky world seemed to revolve around this invisible pole, the world axis and the North Star above it implied stability and permanence. It marked the center of the world."

Dictionary of Nature Myths: Legends of Earth, Sea, and Sky by Tamara Andrews. Oxford University Press. 


I thought this was really cool and apropos to the book, to me, and what I want this book to be. A stabilizing force in my career as an author. The Unmoving Sky as part of my heart, the center, or beginning, and what will come. 

How (my) Home Renovations Are Like Book Revisions.

As I bent over for the hundredth time to reorganize, either the kitchen or the living room this week, I began to realize that the constant going over was quite like revisions.

Dead tired, I thought, what am I learning from this? It was grueling, our landlord’s handyman, sloppy. I had to continually clean up after his and my husband’s mess. I came home to a surprise, each day, unwarned, the kitchen wrapped in plastic with millions of white water-based paints splattered across the wood floors. I cleaned up the kitchen, and the next day, it happened again – for the second coat. And I cleaned that.

This had gone on for over a month, with one handyman making his way through our apartment, after a sub-zero winter left us with a steam pipe break and nearly collapsed wall. 

I asked myself, what am I learning from this? This cannot be a wasted effort. Granted, I’d eventually get a wall and a painted apartment and several neglected repairs. (In years past, I did the wall painting) But the slow and messy progress was like a cruel joke. 

My husband works nights, and he wrestled with the handyman during the day while I watched the café – and wrote. Thank the heavens! However, I’d pay for that when I got home.

With revisions, you feel like you’re doing the same thing, over and over, most of the time. You fix a page, maybe a beta reader reads it, and you utilize their notes, or you revise because revisions are an ongoing process and you have faith that the work will get done and turn out right by the end. And eventually you push through – warrior style. 

Which reminds me of a great Cheryl Strayed interview clip you can hear on Soundcloud, about writing like a warrior. Coincidentally, I heard the interview for the first time, during this exhausting time. Just what I needed to hear.  

Maybe this is all I learned.

Just to push through. Keep going. And hold that polished kitchen/MS in your mind’s eye until the work is done.

Then stand back, and remember: you earned this.  The reward is getting the work finished. In my case, it's uncertain when the rubble of creation will form. But for now I'll take a respite, and just in time for Mother's Day.  

The Original ABEGALE FORCE first page.

I found the original first page from three, or more, years ago when this story came bubbling up from my story root system. And after hundreds of rewrites I much prefer this original vision. 

The opening pages were critiqued on open forums and much the "voice" was lost. I want it back! I may rewrite it again with this page in mind. Luckily, for the most part only the first chapter was over-worked.  (Remember my mention in an earlier post about over-editing. Beware, it happens!) 
But I sure learned a lot. 

                     After school on Friday

Going to Stephanie’s apartment building helps me appreciate my home. But the smells always make me wish for more. In the evening it often smells like someone just baked a sweet potato casserole and stewed it for hours with extra butter and caramel sauce. 

“Just a few things?” I ask Stephanie.

“Yeah, and Chris might be home,” she says, still teasing me about her brother who is preparing to leave for college.

We approach Stephanie’s building, which sits near the back lots of a shopping strip. The winds are picking up and tempest swirls seem to be following us. No one’s outside this late in the afternoon. But I do make out Mr. Miller feeding seeds to the pigeons. He’s an old air force veteran who talks a lot about the misconceptions of government. He’s really funny and goes off about “covert operations” no one knows about.

We pass to the left of the parking lot and he doesn’t see us. Besides I wouldn’t want him to scatter the birds. The sun is getting higher and warmer in the west. I drift toward it, and the heat presses against my cheeks. Stephanie is rambling on about something.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask her.

 “Chris is going to ask me about that CD.”

“I’ll get it to you before he leaves.”

“I think you’re holding on to it on purpose,” she delivers in a singsong voice.

“Are your parents home?” I change the subject. I know I’ll have no protection, both her parents work day and night.

We get to the door of her building and Stephanie buzzes 2B, again and again.

“Hey, give me a minute, Phenny, where are your keys?” Chris’s voice trails from the speaker.

Stephanie pushes through the heavy metal door as the buzz sounds. And as we enter we hear a voice, “Stephanie is that your friend?” the voice whispers out of sight. Then there’s a thump . . . thump . . . thump.

I didn’t know anyone moved into the apartment by the front door. A tall lanky woman appears with dark inset eyes and hair pulled up on her head like a cameo broach. She’s wearing a floor length dress and has a tall walking stick that outstretches her hand above her waist.

“Hello Stephanie and Abegale, Stephanie has told me so much about you.” She has a warm mothering smile.  “I’m Mrs. Egremony. How’s your cough, Stephanie?

Stephanie clears her throat. “Um, I guess it’s okay, I haven’t thought about it. I guess I’m feeling better.”

“Well, let me know if you’re still coughing at night. I spoke with your mom and she’ll be listening,” Mrs. Egremony finishes.

“All right.” Stephanie seems impatient to leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Egremony.” Stephanie’s walking backward up the steps.

Mrs. Egremony turns to her apartment but calls after us. “Drink fresh lemon juice, lemonade if you like, but lots of fresh lemon.”