Tag Archives: inspiration

Monday Afternoon Ramblings

How I envision my retirement party…

I dream of the day when I can comfortably retire from education without needing the income.  That’s the most lurid fantasy I have, and I imagine it almost daily.  As I look at this mountain of grading before me, I envision the day when I’m sitting in HR and filling out the paperwork.  In the wildest version of this fantasy, it happens soon because of a huge royalty check or grotesque advance for movie rights, and I courageously choose to walk away from teaching to throw myself into writing and promoting full-time.  Some days, I can smell the freedom.

In reality, I recognize that I’m stuck at this for a little while longer.  My child support isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and while Seventh Star is doing an excellent job with the series so far, it’s improbable to expect a six figure royalty check any time soon.  Realistically, that’s what I would need to feel safe leaving behind the income and benefits.  Not that I earn six figures now, but by my estimation, a royalty check like that would give me a 2-3 year cushion to live on.  Since that’s unlikely to occur in the next couple of years, I comfort myself with the fantasy.

I hate feeling this way about the job because there was a time when I truly loved teaching, but the system is geared to use us up and burn us out well before our prime.  The course load and student ratio are set too high for composition teachers, so the constant grind of grading is nearly unbearable.  Then, to compound the issue, from All Children Left Behind and the Race to a Stop, the students get less and less capable each semester, which means we have to work harder just to cover the basics.  When we grumble among ourselves, most of us express at least some desire to escape the profession.  Some are hanging on to reach the last level of vesting, others for another opportunity to open up, and some like me for their other career to become self-sustaining.  I know very few teachers today who openly claim to be in it for the long-term.

The sad part is, the ones who are the most burned out are the most capable teachers because it’s doing the job properly that causes the over-exertion.  The crappy teachers who don’t follow due  diligence  with their lectures and grading never feel the burn because they aren’t putting forth the same level of effort.  They just coast along, doing just enough to fly under the radar but not really providing the students with a quality education.  Even last semester, when I was so sick I could barely walk from my office to the classroom, I still delivered dozens of pages of notes and drilled my students on the fundamentals of good writing because I believe in the importance of writing, not just for the individual students, but for our society as a whole.

Despite this level of dedication on my part, I promise that if I received a six figure royalty or advance tomorrow, the college would be running an ad for my position this summer.  I would finish out my contract, but that would be all, and I would only finish it because of the respect I have for my dean and colleagues.  That’s why I’ve purposefully stayed on a year-to-year basis, so that I can walk away on relatively short notice without burning a bridge.  But until the day arrives when I can leave, I’ll have to sate myself with the fantasy.  As for now, it’s time to get back to grading.

Late Night Ramblings


I wrote on here a couple of weeks ago about the neurological issues I’ve been dealing with for the last 8 months or so, and now that I seem to be on the mend, I want to share more details of what I went through.  Back in 1989, I suffered a pretty severe head trauma and have lived with the side effects of post-concussion syndrome ever since.  For the first year, I had a constant headache, and not your run of the mill one either.  To this day, a headache has to pretty severe for me to even notice it.  For about 10 years or so, I would  occasionally lose focus on where I was and what I was doing.  It would sometimes take me a minute or two to come back to full consciousness, but fortunately, that symptom faded with time.  The three that have remained are sensitivity to light, trouble with word recall from time to time, and poor equilibrium.  To me, they are minor nuisances that I’ve grown to accept and live with.

Several years back, I started noticing a random tremor in my left hand.  It was infrequent and rarely lasted for more than a few seconds, so I figured it was just another effect of the injury.  Then, last summer, that hand started giving me lots of issues.  The trembling became nearly constant, and sometimes I would get a severe cramp that would draw my middle fingers together in a painful knot that took several minutes of rubbing to undo.  By mid-September, the trembling had spread to my right hand, though not as severe or constant.

Around this time, I also realized that mundane tasks like walking, especially on stairs, writing, and typing took extreme amounts of concentration.  I could still function, but it took all of my effort to do them.  My muscle strength was fine, but getting my muscles to respond took everything I had.  With each step, I felt like my legs were glued to the floor and didn’t want to lift.  Just holding a pen steady was maddeningly difficult, and while typing, I would constantly miss keys or hit two at once.  I went from being able to easily type 60 words a minute to struggling to complete 30.  Also, I noticed that my handwriting on the board kept getting smaller, especially the longer I wrote.  My arms and legs often felt like they were either very far away from my body or disconnected altogether.  After doing some preliminary research on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic, I was terrified I had either Parkinson’s or MS.

Then, in late September/early October, the muscle spasms started.  They would happen sporadically and without warning at odd places on my body.  Usually, they were in my legs or arms, but a few times, they occurred in my abdomen and once on my upper lip.  They weren’t painful, more just annoying, and they would last anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes.  I never knew when or where they would hit.

Then, sometime in October, the worst symptom hit.  The only way I can describe it is that I felt like I was dying.  Some days were worse than others, but the sensation never went away.  There were days when just getting out of bed took everything I had, and making it through each day at work required every ounce of energy I could muster.  The feeling was so real and terrifying I actually wrote letters to my sons in case something did happen to me.  I lost count of how many times I broke down crying from the fear.  To further complicate the situation, the doctors had no idea what was going on.  Every single test kept coming back normal, and as I wrote before, my neurologist treated me as if I were imagining the whole thing.  I know I wasn’t imagining that feeling of death.

The whole experience was a nightmare, and I’ve never felt so helpless and alone.  Today, fortunately, I feel like I’m healing.  The death feeling faded within weeks of cutting out gluten, and the muscle spasms have all but ceased.  I still have some trembling in my left hand, and my coordination isn’t 100%, but everyday I feel a little better.  If you are experiencing any unexplained health issues, I urge you to look at gluten as a potential culprit.  The effects of the sensitivity can mimic nearly anything, and it affects everyone in different ways.  The cure is simple, and there’s about a 6 month healing process.  If you are of Scots-Irish heritage, you are highly likely to have the sensitivity, so please, don’t ignore the possibility.

Thursday Morning Ramblings


I’m a misfit, always have been.  I’m equal parts dreamer, pragmatist, gypsy, homebody, mischief maker, and father.  I’m just as happy working on the land covered in mud as I am promoting books at a convention.  My musical tastes range from Concrete Blonde to Merle Haggard to Art Tatum.  I’ve never felt at home anywhere except with my children, and when I love, I love with all I am.  I’m laid-back and easy going, until something pisses me off, and then you’ll see my Scots-Irish heritage.  I’m thick-skinned and sensitive, prideful and humble, stubborn and reserved, all stuffed inside one hard head and tender heart.  Some days, it’s exhausting just living with all these complexities.

I’ve paid my dues and been through my fair share of adversity.  I don’t want anyone’s pity, but sometimes, I damn sure could use a hug.  I’m trying desperately hard not to grow bitter and cold because I’d rather learn and grow, but each time life knocks me down, that gets a little harder.  I’ve nearly given up on finding my partner but don’t want my love to wither away.  I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself and don’t need anyone to do anything for me, but it would be so nice to have someone to share things with.  That said, right now, I can’t even imagine having another committed relationship because I have too much healing to do.

Sitting here at 39, mulling these thoughts, I’m equally hopeful and terrified.  My writing career seems finally to be gaining some traction, and the foundation of my platform is solid, so for the first time in many years, I sense real progress in my career.  I’m also hopeful that I’m on the right path to heal my wounds.  Living alone, focusing on work, and taking time to sort through myself is the right step, but I’m terrified of never getting there, of waking up 20 years from now used up and alone.  Maybe that fear is just a product of the pain I feel today, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

On Saturday, I was on a panel called “The Writing Life,” and we discussed the day in, day out of crafting stories, but we didn’t discuss this side.  The complexities of personality and sacrifices of personal life it takes to be a professional novelist.  Some people are lucky enough to have a supportive partner with them on their journey, so their experience is different from mine, but I know that what makes me a writer is also what makes me hard to live with sometimes.  There’s a great line from the song “Nowhere Road” by Steve Earle and Reno King about being a musician, but I think it applies equally to any art:  “But there’s a toll to pay / so if you’re going / the keeper of the gate is blind / so you best be prepared to pay.”  That pretty well sums up my feelings on where I am in my life today.  I’ve chosen this road and am paying the toll to get across.  While I wouldn’t change anything, some days I question whether the sacrifices will ever be worth it.  But like I said at the beginning, I’m a misfit.  This is who and what I am, so either accept me as I am or don’t waste my time.