Author: Betsy Horvath

Sugar-Coated

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

When Betsy loses two of her beloved cats within six weeks of each other due to cancer, Harry, Betsy’s Quest Guide, leaves her alone for a little while to grieve. However, when he returns to Betsy’s brain, he’s disturbed to find molecules of sugar and chemicals flying around everywhere and Betsy’s Muse sound asleep on a ratty sofa pushed into a corner. Talking to the Muse causes more concern. Harry knew Betsy was a wreck, but he finds out she hasn’t written anything at all since he’s been gone. Harry and the Muse both know that writing will help Betsy work through her emotions, but Betsy doesn’t seem to know that. In fact, Harry begins to suspect that Betsy might have gotten herself completely derailed.

Another wave of sugar and chemicals hits, sending the Muse into a sound sleep. Harry makes a dash for Betsy’s temporal lobe to see if he can figure out what’s going on. What will he find?

Betsy!

HELLO.

*Harry skids to a halt and stares* Who the hell are you?

*The shadows shift* *The ganglia wiggle*

*silence*

Huh. Weird. Better find Betsy. Betsy? Where are you?

…because….the world is round….it turns me on….

Betsy! *Harry leaps forward again* Where are you?

…because….the world….is….round….aaaaahhhhhhhh

And why the hell are you singing a Beatles song? *Harry pushes aside some cells* Great googly moogly Betsy’s sprawled all over her brain like a limp noodle.

…because…the wind is high….it blows my mind….

For God’s sake, stop singing. Especially that freaking song. *Harry jumps on Betsy’s chest and prods her with his little paws* What in the world have you done to yourself, woman?

love is all…love is new….*cough* Harry? Harry is that you? *Betsy blinks sugar-encrusted eyelashes*

Of course it’s me, you moron. What are you doing?

It’s so good to see you. *Betsy smiles goofily, then frowns* What do you mean, what am I doing?

What have you done to yourself? *Harry slaps her across the cheek* Snap out of it!

Ow! *Betsy puts hand to cheek* I’m just laying here. I’m allowed to lay here. It’s MY brain. I’m allowed to hide in it if I wanna.

*Harry settles back on his hind legs* The last time we talked you were all motivated. You were gonna be an indie publisher. You were gonna be an authorpreneur. You were gonna write, damn it.

*Betsy looks away* But then Emily died, and…

I know she did doll. *Harry tilts Betsy’s head back with a gentle paw* I’m sorry.

*Betsy blinks* Thank you.

But what happened? *Harry looks around* *notices that the entire temporal lobe is covered in layers and layers of sugar* What have you been doing?

*Betsy looks away again* Eating.

Betsy! *Harry sighs* You KNOW that doesn’t help. You KNOW the sugar and fats and all of the chemicals in the food just make you crazy. You KNOW it’s not going to do anything but make you feel worse.

I know. *Betsy sniffles* But when I eat the sugar and the fats and the pastries and all of the things I’m not supposed to eat then I can escape from everything for a little while.

But it’s only a little while. And then your blood sugar is out of control and you crash. Besides, it’s poison for you! It’s like you’re poisoning yourself!

Maybe. *Betsy blushes* But it feels good at first.

*Harry sighs* Does it feel good now?

No. *Betsy frowns* I feel kind of crappy, to tell the truth.

Are you ready to stop eating the way you have been?

*Betsy picks at the fabric of her blouse* It’s not that easy.

What do you mean? *Harry starts to pace* You feel crappy. You know that writing will help. So you stop eating badly, you stop poisoning yourself, and you write instead. Instead of escaping through food, you escape through writing. Easy.

*Betsy looks at Harry, eyes wide and frightened* *whispers* I hear ice cream.

*Harry blinks* Huh?

I hear ice cream. And pastries. And brownies. And chocolate. And cheesecake. And larger than advisable portions of food that would otherwise be considered halfway decent. I…I want to stop eating like this. I swear to you. I’ve tried! But I hear them singing to me in my DREAMS! Calling me! Telling me to come to them. *sobs*

*Harry settles* I don’t get it.

*Betsy sits up* *gazes furtively around the brain* *whispers even more softly* I started eating badly when Emily died. I just wanted to escape. I just wanted to numb my brain for a little bit. Can you blame me? CAN YOU?

Uh…

And now I can’t stop eating. I start out the day doing okay. I do. Honest. I have things under control. Then around three o’clock… *Betsy swallows* It all goes to hell and I end up here. Stretched out in my brain. Covered in sugar. Singing “Because”.

Wow. Huh. *Harry starts to get up*

You can’t leave me. *Betsy clutches at him* I know you’re just a gerbil, but you’re all I’ve got. You have to help me break this.

*Harry shakes his little head* Well, I know you’ve got to break this, doll, but I’m not sure–

You have to help me! *Betsy squeezes Harry with both hands* You have to! I’ll never become an authorpreneur if I don’t get this under control. I can’t keep losing time like this! I can’t…I can’t…I’M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER!

Okay, okay. *Harry struggles and finally breaks free* *smooths down his coat* *itches at his ear* Sheesh. You’re right, okay?

*Betsy blinks tear-filled eyes* I am?

Yeah. There’s no way you’ll become an authorpreneur if you keep up this way. You need to get over this…this…food addiction or the next time you hit a bad spot you’re going to end up flat on your back in your temporal lobe singing “Because”.

*Betsy tries to hug him* I knew you’d understand!

*Harry evades her outstretched arms* Okay, so, first of all. Who else is in here?

*Betsy blinks* Who else? Nobody.

*Harry shakes his head* I know I heard somebody else in here.

*Betsy frowns* No. Seriously. It’s just me.

I don’t–

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*Betsy looks around her brain* Who’s that?

To be continued…

May 18, 2014
Derailed?

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy and Harry, her Quest Guide, determined that the first step Betsy needs to take to become a successful indie author is to write more. They also discussed Betsy’s production schedule and decided Betsy would finish the first draft of her work in progress by May 11. Unfortunately, in the meantime Betsy experienced a heartbreaking loss.

But now we are left to wonder – has Betsy been able to write at all? Has her grief blown her schedule completely out of the water? Is her life totally off track? And why is her trash can full of empty ice cream containers and plastic cheesecake trays? Why are more and more sugar molecules zipping through Betsy’s brain?

Join us as Harry tries to figure out what’s up with Betsy…

*snore* *grumble* *snore*

Geeze, is that the Muse? *Harry scampers closer to an old, ratty, pull-out sofa shoved into a corner of Betsy’s brain* *pulls himself up on a cushion so he can see the face of the sleeping woman* Oh, man. It is her. Muse? *reaches out with a paw and pokes the Muse in the face* Wake up.

*grumble* *snort* *Muse blinks eyes open* *pushes herself up on her elbow* *looks down at Harry* Oh. Hey. *collapses back on the sofa*

You gotta get up. *Harry pokes her again*

Can’t. Too. Tired.

Well, get over it! *Harry climbs on Muse’s chest and glares down into her face* You should be helping Betsy write.

*Muse swats at Harry, but he jumps away* Too bad.

Whaddya mean, too bad? *Harry sits back on hind legs* *folds forelegs across chest* We’ve got goals. A schedule. I mean, I know she’s been through a lot lately and she’s a total wreck–

*Muse turns her head away* Poor little kitty.

–and that’s only to be expected. But we have to get her working again. You and I both know that writing is going to help. You saw how much better she felt after writing Sunday’s blog post. She NEEDS to write or she’s gonna go nuts!

*Muse props herself up on her elbows again* Look, I know that, and you know that, but SHE doesn’t seem to know that.

*Harry frowns* She doesn’t? What’s going on?

*Muse rolls her eyes* Oh, come on. Don’t be stupid. You live in this brain too.

Well, I know she’s been grieving. *Harry shrugs uncomfortably* I’ve kind of stayed away, if you want to know the truth. I hate it when a chick cries. I never know what to say.

Oh, GREAT! *Muse flops back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling of the brain* The one time she needs a freaking Guide and you run away. Such a typical man.

Hey! I’m a gerbil here! *Harry paces back and forth on Muse’s chest* So you’re telling me she’s still all screwed up?

Well, duh. *Muse yawns hugely* Uh oh. Here comes another dose of sugar and chemicals. She’s self-medicating again. I’ll be asleep in… a… second…

*Harry stares at her* What the hell are you talking about?

Go to the *yawn* temporal lobe…and…see…. *snore*

Huh. *Harry pokes at the Muse* *Muse grumbles and turns on her side* *Harry jumps nimbly to the floor before he gets squashed* Darn it, what the heck has Betsy gotten herself into now?

*Harry ducks flying molecules of sugar and chemicals and serotonin* *Floor of brain begins to quake and then break apart*

What the heck? *Harry grabs onto the basal ganglia to keep his footing* *Electrical sparks fly from cell to cell* Oh my gosh! *Harry makes a break for the temporal lobe* Betsy! Betsy, what’s going on? Betsy!

*Harry makes a leap down a neural pathway* *dives into temporal lobe* *comes to a skidding halt* *stares*

Betsy?

HELLO.

Who the hell are you?

To be continued….

May 14, 2014
The Most Difficult Thing About Pets

I was debating whether or not to write this post. It is rather personal. It’s also Mother’s Day, so I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. But it’s what I’ve thinking about, so I thought I would write it.

As you may know, I lost my cat Oliver to small cell lymphoma and pancreatitis about six weeks ago. I wrote a blog post about it here. In the blog post, I mentioned Oliver’s sister Emily, who also had cancer.

Emily developed a growth on her side last September. The lump grew extremely rapidly, then ruptured and started to bleed. The vet removed the growth at the end of October 2013, and it was determined that she had an aggressive cancer. We weren’t exactly sure what the cancer was, but it seemed to be some kind of a mast cell tumor, which is extremely rare in cats. At the beginning of December, I found out about Oliver. At the end of December, I realized Emily had another growth developing on her side. I took her to the vet immediately and he operated and removed the growth. The biopsy confirmed that the cancer had come back.

Emily came home after her second operation on December 31st. Oliver went to the vet on January 1st, which is when he got his feeding tube.

The next few months were all about Oliver, until I lost him in the middle of March. The following week I realized Emily had a lump under her front leg and another growth on her back hip.

I took her to the vet at the beginning of April. He confirmed what I pretty much already knew. The cancer was back and was in her lymphatic system this time. She did not have a good prognosis.

First, I cried. Then I decided I would not take drastic measures. Emily was a skittish cat, and going to the vet was very traumatic for her. Taking her to the vet every week for chemotherapy, or to an oncologist for radiation treatments would have made her life a living hell. If I tried to hand-feed her as I did with Oliver, she would have been living under my dresser to avoid me. What kind of life was that? Then there was the cost. I had already added on a pile of debt dealing with what we’d been through already – I couldn’t handle much more.

I decided we were in a hospice situation. The vet agreed. Although he had to tell me about possible alternatives, he didn’t believe they would be effective against this cancer and would, ultimately, be worth nothing.

So we waited.

About two weeks ago, Emily stopped eating. I thought she was eating a little bit, but now I don’t think that was the case. Last Saturday, she started throwing up bright yellow bile, which meant her liver was failing or had failed. She stopped drinking water. Finally, on Monday the cancerous lesion on her hip ruptured and began bleeding.

I said goodbye to my sweet, sassy Emily on Tuesday night.

I love all of the pets with whom I’ve been fortunate enough to share my life. But this is the part of owning a pet I hate. This part is absolutely devastating. It’s not even the fact that I had to say goodbye to two of my dear little friends, although I have an empty, aching, pain in my stomach right now when I think about them.

No, I think the hardest part is the utter sense of responsibility you feel when you’re faced with this kind of a situation. How do I know if I’m doing the right thing? Who the hell am I to be making these kinds of decisions? Is it right that I put a feeding tube in Oliver when he stopped eating, but didn’t do the same for Emily? Is it right that I took them to the vet to make their final transition instead of letting them go at home? Did I make decisions based on my own needs or convenience? Should I have waited? Did I wait too long?

I don’t know. I tried to read what they were telling me, I tried to do the best I could. But I was playing God. I was deciding when a life should end – down to the minute. What right do I have to do that?

All I can say is that, for better or worse, I am the one who loved them and who loves them still. I am the one who was called upon to end their suffering. And they were suffering. They were in pain. So, right or wrong, I made a decision.

I’ll tell you that some of the hardest things I’ve ever done have been making phone calls to the vet to vocalize the decision that it was time to end the pain of another creature. Some of the bravest things I’ve ever done have been following through with those appointments because a creature I loved needed me to do so. Even when everything inside me didn’t want to make that trip.

And I’ll tell you that the only thing I’m certain of in this whole situation is that all of the decisions I made – right or wrong – were made out of love.

I guess that’s the best anyone can do.

But BOY! I sure hope the two cats I still have don’t put me through this for a long, long, LONG time.

Emily and Oliver

May 11, 2014
A Production Schedule

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy has had several conversations with Harry, the mythical creature sent by the International Muse Council to guide her towards her dreams. Harry happens to be a white gerbil with aspirations for a promotion. Surprisingly, he’s also proving to be quite a bit of help. He has already helped Betsy identify the goal of her Quest – she wants to be an indie author. Next, he helped her to identify her first step – she has to write. But that’s a pretty self- explanatory first step, so how should she really get started? Let’s join Betsy and Harry now as they sit together on a sprawling sectional sofa in Betsy’s brain to discuss the matter.

*Harry tries to get into a comfortable position* Can you prop that pillow behind my back? Thanks. *Leans back with hind feet sprawled out in front of him.* Now, what were we talking about?

A production schedule. *Betsy frowns* I don’t get it. This is writing. I’m a writer. That’s freaking ART! Why are you talking about a production schedule like I’m making…making…donuts!

Because you need a freaking schedule. *Harry pulls a tiny remote control from a hidden pocket in his fur* *Points it at the wall-screen and clicks* *A graph appears*

Wait! When did you get that big ass monitor?

Coupla days ago. It’ll be on your next credit card statement. ANYways, we have to talk about production schedules even though what you’re doing is all arty and crap.

Why? *Betsy tries not to think about her credit card statement* So I want to be an indie author. So I write. Simple.

Well, yeah. It’s simple if you only want to do it as a hobby. Then who freaking cares if you ever get a book out, right? It’s like your grandma crocheting another freaking afghan. Who cares if she finishes?

Huh. *Betsy thinks* Okay, I think I understand. You’re saying I should have a schedule. Of production.

*Harry rolls his eyes* Sheesh you’re a freaking genius. Listen, you’re telling me you want whatever you do to be all about the writing, right?

Right.

But even so it doesn’t sound like you want this to be a hobby. You want to take this writing gig seriously, right?

Right! *Betsy nods her head decisively*

So, what you really want to be is kinda an “authorpreneur”.

Authorpre….huh?

*Harry shrugs* New buzzword. It means you’re an author and an entrepreneur. You want your writing to be a business. Right?

*Betsy thinks* Right. I want to treat it as a business. I want to take it seriously.

Then you need a schedule. You need deadlines. You need to make promises, and, more importantly, you need to keep them.

*Betsy crosses arms* *Glares at chart* I still don’t see what this has to do with art. I should be able to write when I feel like it.

Bull pucky! See the chart? *Harry gestures towards the screen* You need to keep writing and publishing if you want people to read your books.

Well, I KNOW that.

And how many books are you going to write if you don’t have deadlines?

*Betsy pouts* I’ll write if I don’t have deadlines, Mr. Wisenheimer.

Riiiiiiight. Pardon me for asking, but how many books have you finished since your book got published?

Shut up.

See? Deadlines. Schedules. Goals.

Oh, all right.

*Harry pulls his G-Pad computer tablet from another pocket and boots up* Okay. When do you think the revised first draft of the book you’re working on will be finished?

*Betsy squirms* I wanted to have it finished today.

*Harry looks up at her and is suddenly wearing glasses* And is it finished today?

*Betsy squirms some more* No. I fell asleep!

Uh huh. *Harry makes some notes* A feeble excuse, but I know you have indeed been working on it. *Looks at Betsy over glasses* How about we shoot to have it finished by the end of next week?

*Betsy picks at the threads of the seat cushion* Okay.

*Harry makes notes* And to the beta readers / proofreaders by the end of the month.

*Betsy goggles at him* Are you insane?

*Harry frowns* Are you an authorpreneur?

I…I….*blows out breath* Okay.

Good. *Harry nods* And I also want you to have the next book basically plotted out. Preferably the next two books.

*Betsy thinks* Okay, I understand. I have to set a schedule of when I want to release these books. I have to set deadlines for them. And then I have do everything I can to meet these deadlines even though I’m the one who set them, right?

*Harry beams at her* Perfect.

Because, *Betsy says slowly* If I make deadlines and keep them, then it’s like I’m making promises to myself and my readers and keeping my promises. It’s like I’m professional. Like my writing is a business.

*Harry’s smile grows wider* Right.

It’s like I’ll be taking actual, tangible steps towards making my dreams real. Right?

Yes.

*Betsy looks at chart* *Looks at Harry* So, production schedules and deadlines are good.

Very good.

And the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

*Harry’s smile becomes a beam of sunlight and his fur glows a startling white*

Exactly.

To Be Continued…

May 4, 2014
First Steps

Previously on Betsy’s Blog…

Betsy met an albino gerbil named Harry, who just happens to be her official Guide for her Quest. The problem? She didn’t know what her Quest was! Although Harry was disgusted by this lack of self-awareness, he helped her weed through her writing goals to see what she really wants to accomplish. With Harry’s help, Betsy realized she wants to self-publish (or indie publish, if you will).

But where does she go from here? This question has been haunting Betsy for days – nay, weeks. Let’s join Betsy and Harry in Betsy’s brain as they discuss the first steps.

*whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr*

Harry, get off that damn wheel and come talk to me. *Betsy frowns over at the huge gerbil habitat with its various turrets and towers* *she sits down on the large sofa and spreads some papers out on the coffee table* And turn off ESPN. We need to talk.

Jeeze, I’m right here, doll. *pant, pant* Can’t we talk after my *pant* workout?

No. *Betsy picks up a stack of printouts neatly stapled together* *leafs through the papers*

Crap. Okay. *Harry jumps nimbly off wheel to the top of a tower* *picks up towel laying there and drapes it around his neck* *wipes face* What’s up?

Now that I know I want to be an indie author, there’s so freaking much to learn! *Betsy holds up wads of papers in both hands* I mean, look at all of this! There’s so much information!

Yeah? Let’s see. *Harry jumps off tower onto arm of sofa and scrambles over to crouch on coffee table* *peers down at papers* Hmmm Uh huh. Okay.

See what I mean? *Betsy fists hands in her hair and pulls* What the heck am I supposed to do first?

*Harry squints up at her* What do you mean?

What do I mean! *Betsy gets up and begins to pace rapidly around brain* I mean, do I build my author platform? Or sign up with a publicity firm? How do I market? How are ebooks formatted? What about cover art? Do I hire somebody? Do I try to do it myself? How do you even use Photoshop? Do I try to upload the book to all of the different platforms or do I hire somebody else to do it or use an aggregator? How do I find an editor? How????

Easy now.

*Betsy whirls to confront Harry* And what about visibility, for God’s sake! WHAT ABOUT VISIBILITY!

Whoa. *Harry holds up paws in a placating gesture* You’re scaring me a little bit. First of all, breathe. In…and out…

*Betsy gulps at air* Okay.

Now. Sit down. *Harry jumps over to the sofa and pats the cushion*

*Betsy sits* Okay.

I’m your freaking Guide, right? I’m helping you out on this freaking Quest, right?

*Betsy breathes* Right.

Damn right. So, tell me. How many books do you have finished? Like ready to go.

Now?

No. Next year. Yeah, now.

*Betsy thinks* Um…one. And another book is almost finished.

Great, great. *Harry rolls his eyes* So, what exactly are you thinking you’re going to be publishing?

Now?

YES! NOW!

Um…hmmm… *Betsy thinks* Well, the book that’s done is already published… *Betsy thinks* Umm…I guess…nothing?

RIGHT! So, it seems to me that maybe, just maybe, just possibly right at the moment you should be concentrating on finishing a SECOND FREAKING BOOK and not on any of that other crap.

*Betsy thinks* Finish…the book? Huh. First?

YES! FINISH THE DAMN BOOK!

Before I worry about publishing?

YES! YES! YES! *Harry jumps up and down, flailing his little fists in the air*

*Betsy thinks* But finishing the books is kind of…hard.

*Harry takes a deep breath* *settles back on sofa* I know it is, doll.

And the Muse has been sleeping an awful lot lately.

So maybe you need to wake her up.

*Betsy thinks* Wake up the Muse. And… write?

*Harry wipes sweat from brow* Damn this is exhausting. YES!

*Betsy thinks* Huh. Well….if you’re sure….

I’m freaking sure!

And you don’t think I need to find an editor?

Not until the book is finished.

*Betsy thinks* And you ARE my Guide.

Trust me, doll.

I do. *Betsy straightens shoulders* Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll WRITE!

Great. *Harry jumps to coffee table* *picks up very tiny mai tai* *sips* Now we can get started.

*Betsy blinks at him* Started? Whatever do you mean?

To be continued…

April 30, 2014
What’s Going On Here?

So, here’s the thing about blogging. If you have a blog, you have to blog. Because if you have a blog and you DON’T blog, it just looks stupid. And if you have a blog and you blog, you have to have something about which to blog. Because if you blog and you’re not saying anything of value, that looks stupid too. Especially if you’re an author. Like me. Because we’re supposed to be creative and crap and be able to say things of value.

I want to blog, I like to blog, but frankly sometimes it’s hard to pull a blog post out of my butt (and aren’t you glad to know that’s where my blog posts come from?) About the only thing I do that’s exciting is writing. The whole decision to self-publish is a pretty interesting topic too. And I thought it would be cool to tell the story of my journey through the forest of self-publishing. I wanted to talk about the things I’m going to learn and the challenges I’ll face.

The problem is, there are about a hundred million gazillion people out there blogging about writing and publishing and most of them are WAAAYYYY more qualified than I am to write about that stuff. Besides, I didn’t want to just write boring facts and opinions. I really need to amuse myself. After all, I’m the only person I know for sure is actually reading this thing.

My dilemma was solved one day when I met this albino gerbil named Harry who told me he was my guide and he’d lead on my quest to write books and self-publish. Then I realized my brain is full of voices all talking and arguing and trying to get me to make one decision or another, which is a little disturbing but helps a lot when I write dialogue. And I realized the story I have to tell about my journey is full and rich and has heroes and villains. And I realized that I already had a platform on which to tell my story because I had my blog. And finally I realized that my blog didn’t have to be like other blogs with straight-up, traditional blog posts. I am a storyteller. Ergo, my blog can tell a story.

So that’s what I’m doing – which you may have noticed if you’ve read the last few posts. Some posts will be straight up like this one, but most of them will be part of my continuing story told in multiple voices. There will be excitement and pathos and a wide and varied cast of characters. Heck, I haven’t met everyone yet, and they live in my mind!

I guess this means my blog won’t be like other blogs. But it should at least be somewhat entertaining. I hope you join me for the ride.

April 27, 2014