Reading, writing and research

I normally try to keep the writing stuff separate from the parenting stuff. Today, however, was an exception. I couldn't work on writing stuff at just one point then call it a day, because there was JUST SO MUCH information I had to wade through, that I kept getting back online again and again just to try to get a better grasp of things. I'm desperately trying to understand what EXACTLY my bad-guy character is suffering from, but after hours of research, I've pretty much decided I'm going to have to seek out an expert for some more in-depth help. I know my character suffers from some type of "delusional misidentification syndrome," but his is a case that doesn't fit a subtype. So I have to ask an expert for some help on this. I've visited several Web sites and even checked Amazon.com for books on this subject, but I can't get a really good "idea" on what a person suffering from this type of delusional psychosis is like. What I needed was a "profile" I could mold my antagonist into. I've already developed my antagonist, but in order to make the story's ORIGINAL premise work, I have to assign my antagonist with a mental illness which he cleverly fools a medically-trained nurse with.

My research got me to thinking about other things, too. Specifically, the whole idea of people seeing ghosts and experiencing paranormal phenomena. I never knew that such people could be considered to be "delusional." My own dream experiences were probably just that. My research was a real eye-opener for me with that particular subject, because I saw myself as I read one article after another and another. It was scary, really. I'm not in that position in my life anymore. I don't obsess over my dreams anymore, or over my "dream man" anymore. I am moving on past ALL of that. Just rebuilding my life (as slow as that is going, but I'm still doing it all the same), but I was really troubled that I was in it sooo deeply. I mean, it just really, REALLY had me in its grip. It was so real to me and, according to my research, the reality of the delusions is just one symptom of a delusional disorder. (I also learned that a serious illness could cause this type of episode to happen and I wondered if my having survived spinal meningitis was just the catharsis to send me into such a delusional state.) I ended up writing a 4-page essay about this, taking a break from my research to sit outside and write as my daughter played. It was 50 degrees today. Very cold and VERY windy. My fingers were icicles and I sat there shivering, but I tried to write as much as I could, anyway. That was until my daughter decided she wanted to come back inside. Then I sat at the desk to write the rest of it.

I feel guilty because I spent so much time on the computer today. But I am thankful that, at least, I know now I must find an expert to help me out with my character's mental illness.

I'd planned to have these novel revisions done by November 1st, but I don't see that happening. I'll probably end up working on the revisions even still while I do NaNoWriMo.

My daughter's friend came over today and they played. I took breaks from research to do other things, like try to catch up on reading this book whose author I must interview VERY SOON! I have a love/hate thing going with his book. The style of his writing isn't exactly one I favor, but the characters are endearing and I want to know what happens next. At one point, a character in this story comes across a published diary his late father kept before he died, and the character, with tears in his eyes, recognizes the gem he now has in his hands. It made me think about the novel I am writing for NaNoWriMo. It has something to do with keeping a journal -- and THAT is all I am telling the world about it! But it made me anxious to write this story. And I had to restrain myself from giving in to that temptation, telling myself, NOT YET! It also made me think of the journals I lost before I moved to Oregon. The journals boxed away in the garage I was denied access to and which were later hauled off to the dump by the landlady. I often wonder if it was destroyed along with my other irreplaceable treasures. Or is there some off, off, WAY OFF chance it is still intact? That even someone may find it in their rummaging and even sit down to read it? I remember once perusing one such journal. Reading it was like reading some novel. I kid you not. There was the time I'd written about my young sister's pregnancy igniting controversy in the family, how my house had caught on fire, how my uncle had had a heart attack and my older brother got all upset because he was the last to find out (I was the next-to-last), how my aunt had died and all the stuff I'd written about her, a funny conversation I TRIED to have with my then way-too-exhausted boyfriend, a "drama episode" my family was going through when rumors were being spread around about my youngest sister, etc., etc. Just a whole lot of crazy and alarming and unusual things. I wonder how someone reading all of that would take to it.

They might think it was actually a manuscript for a novel and not so much a REAL diary.

Well. I'll be putting together something just like that soon enough.

And that's ALL I'm going to say about it.

It's actually kinda scary I am taking on YET ANOTHER book project. I was chatting with an online friend this morning and she asked me how I juggled all of the books I'm writing. (Well, I have a system.) My plate is very, very, VERY full right now. I'm actually focusing on JUST getting all of my book projects done because I have SO MANY. I have a lot of book projects on the table right now and I can't accept anything more. Well, except for the NaNoWriMo book. But, that's about it. That's all, really. Gotta finish ALL of my book projects up before I take on anything new. (I have had to write down ALL of them just to keep tabs on where I am with which book.)

Anyway. I was acting awful silly a lot today. I think by now my daughter has been able to figure out when her mom is joking around and just being silly. Like at one point, I got the pliers to turn on the heater with in the living room. The girls were washing their hands in the bathroom. I stifled a giggle then walked in, holding up the pliers, and asking, "OK, which one of you needs your teeth pulled?" My daughter giggled but, her friend! Oh my God. You should have seen the look of horror on her face. I laughed to show I was joking but she still looked at me funny as I walked out.

Silliness aside, I came across an interesting incident today. My daughter came up to me upset because she and her friend were having a disagreement over something. She explained that her friend showing "three" on her hand was wrong. In ASL, the "3" and "W" are signed differently. My daughter knows the ASL alphabet and she knows how to count in ASL, as well. Her friend held up what is "W" in ASL and said, "This is three." My daughter said, "No, THIS is three" and held up the ASL-version of "3." (In ASL, three is the first three fingers -- thumb, pointing finger and middle finger -- and "W" is the pointing finger, middle finger, and ring finger.) I smiled to her friend and explained that in sign language, we sign "3" differently because that "3" she was showing was the sign for "W" and I showed her how we sign "3" in ASL. This is to avoid confusion. This was the very first time my daughter had a social situation where ASL clashed with something popularly accepted by society. It made me wonder what other kind of situations she might face in her knowledge of ASL compared to other popular nonverbal cues.

Maybe there's an article in there somewhere. Or an essay. Or even a book!

OK. Wait a minute. I'll stop myself now.