Oh, Those Moody, Moody Writers!

Authors have a reputation for being moody. In fact, all artists are seen as very emotional humans. Certainly, writers – at least writers of fiction – need to be in touch with their emotions to create real, believable characters.

What is sad is when authors allow their emotions to overcome their productivity. It is one thing to be emotional, and quite another when they are so far gone they can’t write.

I have just recovered from a bout of depression. Many writers face the same thing. For one thing, many writers are not social creatures by nature. This makes it hard for these writers to be around the very people who would love them, support them and make them smile.

Of course, there are great numbers of writers who never face this problem. Unfortunately, I am not one of them.

I want to be productive as much as possible, so I will share with you my techniques for breaking the depression and getting back to writing.

Stick With Positive People

No matter how difficult it may seem when I am in the throes of melancholy, I make the effort to spend time with friends and family who are positive and supportive. If not all of the time, at least as much as I can. It seems obvious that negative people will bring me down further into sadness. Yet, when it is going on, sometimes, I just want to wallow in it. There it is. I admit it. But, I make an intellectual choice to ignore this desire and do the things that will help me get back to my computer to write.

Fake It

In Loving the Missing Link, there is a strong character who tells my protagonist, “Laugh.”
Cheryl says, “I can’t laugh. That’s ridiculous. Laughing happens when it happens, you can’t force it.”
I’m here to tell you that you certainly can laugh, smile, and talk and think about positive things even when you are feeling down. If you are feeling this way, try it. Have you ever gone to a party you didn’t want to go to because you were too upset? This is what happens to me sometimes: To be polite, I join in the conversations and try not to bring anybody down. I laugh when someone tells a joke I know is funny and I smile graciously to let people know I appreciate being included. As the party goes on, I begin to start enjoying myself. It seems like an absolute miracle!

Think About the Good Things in My Life

This time it was easier. I knew I had done a great job on my first book, and was getting a lot of encouraging feedback about it. A journalist from my hometown paper had done me the honor of requesting a copy of my book, my bio, and my picture for a feature in their local paper. Positive things were happening, and, although my mood was low, I couldn’t help recognizing that things were really going well, even if I didn’t feel that way. I have to be patient, because sometimes it takes awhile before I start feeling the change, but slowly, it did happen.

When All Else Fails, Seek Help

Many people, writers included, feel that taking an antidepressant or visiting a counselor will stifle their creativity. But let me ask you one thing: If you are so depressed that you can’t get out of bed, are you going to be creative? Productive? Probably not. So, I do what I have to do until we break the back of the depression. This time, it only took three weeks. I think it was mainly because I saw my productivity and the quality of my work slipping away, and I went to my doctor as quickly as possible. That was what finally banished my depression completely. If I had it to do over, I would do it in a heartbeat.

For me, it is much too easy to tell myself it’s OK to be moody. There have been so many great artists who have struggled with this problem. And I do believe most of them fought the good fight as well as they could. After all, if they had been too deeply depressed to produce, they would have been devastated. And most writers I know can’t abide not writing for long.

So, if your emotions have gotten the better of you, make a plan. Then, have the discipline to carry it out. You can do it. I know you can.

Why I’m Not Celie J. Halsewell

As I neared the beginning of publishing Loving the Missing Link, I began to think about my name. Julia Thomas. Boring, ordinary, unmemorable. I thought it would be as bad as publishing under the name of Jane Doe. Somehow, I wanted people to know that I was a real, live, individual person. So, I thought about publishing under a pen name.

To devise my pen name, I took the first and middle initials of all my grandchildren and began to manipulate the letters to create a sort of anagram. Somewhere during the process, I looked up my maiden name and found that Halsewell was a related name. It made sense because it had a similar sound. Asel, Halsewell. Sounded good to me. Plus, it fit into the theme of using my grandchildren’s initials.

I began to love the name Celie J. Halsewell. I imagined that I was an intriguing person with loads of personality. I thought that no one would ever mix up Celie’s work with that of anyone else. It all seemed so ideal.

Then, I began to think about marketing. Throughout the marketing process, I would have to pose as Celie J. Halsewell for interviews, blog posts and comments, and any other person-to-person interaction. Heaven forbid that my book would become so popular that I would have to make personal, face-to-face appearances. Suddenly, I saw my proposed pen name as a commitment to lie. Sorry, but that’s just not me.

I settled for adding my unusual maiden name in between my ordinary first name and my boring last name. I did drop an “s” from my maiden name, but that was a practical consideration designed to prevent unfortunate mispronunciations. It all seemed like a good compromise, and I loved the idea of being me rather than trying to be someone else.

So, look for my work under the name of Julia Asel Thomas. It’s a good name, it’s a solid name, and it’s the name I can honestly call my own.

A Dream to Ponder

A Dream to Ponder

The other night, I had the most amazing dream. Perhaps significantly or perhaps not, it came to me on the night Loving the Missing Link, my first book, went live on Amazon. I don’t want to break its beautiful spell by tearing it apart. But I would be interested in what you think it might mean.
The Dream:

I am sitting, cross-legged on the most beautiful hardwood floor I have ever seen. It is made of a rich, golden oak and polished to a brilliant shine. The floor stretches out in all directions so far that I can’t see the end of it.

But, I am not so much sitting on the floor as I am hovering about a inch or two above it. I am looking at the beauty of the floor and enjoying the gentle sounds of music playing from somewhere far away. I am at perfect peace.

Suddenly, my vision begins to fade, and then I become blind. My hearing begins to fail, and I become deaf. My arms and legs begin to go numb, and then I can’t feel anything. Yet, I am not afraid.

The only thing left to my awareness is what is going on in my mind. In the dream, I am asking myself, “Am I dead? Is this what death feels like?” And yet, I am still not afraid or panicked. I feel wonderful.

So, that’s the end of the dream.

I told my son about the dream, and he had an answer for me. He said, “Mom, you weren’t dead.”

I asked, “How do you know?”

He said, “You thought, therefore you were.”

Well, I guess that’s as good an answer to that question as any, but I still don’t know what that dream meant or where it came from. I only know that I woke up feeling happy. Isn’t that odd?

So, if you have any insight into the meaning of this incredible dream, share it with me. I don’t want to dissect it myself, but I am interested in your impressions about it. Give it your best shot. I’ll be anxiously awaiting any input you might have. So, comment away. Your opinions matter to me and as always, they matter to the world.