Pat Bertram

Day Body, Night Mind

March 7, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I never considered myself either a day person or a night person, and now I see why. I’m both. Or neither.

It seems as if physical activity suits me more in the morning. Before taking dance classes, when my times of exercise were at my discretion rather than scheduled classes, I always preferred to stretch and do weights first thing, then immediately go out walking in the cool of the day.

And mental activity suits me more at night. Late at night, when my brain comes awake, acuity and creativity are stronger than any other time, which is why, when I wrote, I always wrote at night.

Sounds good? Right?

Well, no. It was fine when I was younger and not so physically active, but now my poor tired body shuts down before my brain awakens.

Oddly, though I have trouble falling asleep at night, I have no trouble at all dozing off when I want to do something intellectual. Last night, I actually fell asleep while I was writing. Doesn’t bode well for my writing career!

Still, I did manage to add a few words to the poor moribund manuscript. Now let’s see if I can stay awake long enough to add a few more words tonight before I collapse.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in books, culture, writing. Tags: day person, falling asleep while writing, night person, writes best at night. 5 Comments »

My Life After All

March 6, 2018 — Pat Bertram

It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that I’ve been ambivalent about taking dance classes lately. I still love dancing, but now frustration and unhappiness seem to occur more often than joy. It’s not just having to deal with people I don’t want in my life, it’s also feeling that I’m living someone else’s life. I’m not sure why I feel this way after all these years of classes, though I suppose it has a lot to do with my never having had any inclination to be a dancer, not having any natural aptitude for dance, being too heavy for grace, and lacking musicality. I suppose it has even more to do with my sinking back into myself after Jeff’s death catapulted me to hell and beyond, and so I feel more myself than I have in ages, and “myself” is … well, not a dancer, which makes me feel more and more like an imposter. (Oddly, I dance more than I write, but I consider myself a writer even when I don’t write.)

And, of course, there’s my dubious financial situation, which adds even more ambivalence to the issue because I really should be working rather than depleting my savings on ungainful activities.

It’s no wonder then, that I woke the other morning with these words echoing in my post-dream-state brain: You can teach an elephant to dance, but that doesn’t make her a dancer.

Still, I have the strange idea that I can get stronger, more agile, and more balanced by combining the dance classes with the backpacking saunters, and before I settle down to some ridiculous job, I want a chance to see what I can do physically.

If I am ambivalent about dancing, it’s nothing compared to my ambivalence about long distance backpacking. Even if by some miracle, sheer determination, or a combination of the two, I am able to carry the weight I need, it’s still remains to be seen if my body will cooperate.

For example, I’d been feeling a pinch in one knee occasionally when I went uphill and a pinch in the other when I went downhill, so I researched how to walk downhill properly, and then my knees really started to hurt! Apparently, the advice was all wrong for me. It was more for powering down a hill rather than saving one’s knees. So now that I’ve found the right “right way” (hypothetically, by shifting weight side to side as you walk downhill, you use more hamstrings than quadriceps, which helps keep the muscles in balance and protects the cartilage), we’ll see if I can keep from destroying my knees.

Still, ambivalent or not, living my life or a borrowed life, I plan to keep moving ahead with the combined strength and agility training. And maybe, someday, whatever I end up doing will feel like it’s my life after all.

***

Posted in being me, culture, grief. Tags: ambivalence about life, depleting my savings, feeling like an imposter, living a borrowed life, no aptitude for dancing, not a dancer, trying to get stronger. 2 Comments »

On Writing: Potential Discrepancies

March 5, 2018 — Pat Bertram

In a scene in my work that’s still not progressing, I have my characters roaming a hostile landscape in nothing but Tarzan and Jane outfits. Until a few days ago, they wore their normal clothes, including shoes.

Keeping that in mind, can you spot the potential discrepancy in the following excerpt?

Faint screams became deafening as Chet approached. Christopher rolled around on the ground, ignoring Francie’s pleas to hold still. The others huddled off to the side. The eyes they turned to Chet had a blankness in their stare.

Chet rushed to Francie’s side. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. He tripped and fell an hour ago, or maybe two minutes or two hours. Out here, there seems to be no time.”

“Did he break a bone?”

“No. He looks fine, but he won’t stop screaming.”

Chet knelt on one knee by Christopher, then immediately jumped up, his kneecap burning as if impaled with a thousand splinters. Gritting his teeth, he limped to a hassock-sized rock, perched on the edge of it, pulled his knee to his chest to study it, but could see nothing out of the ordinary.

“. . . wrong?” Francie said, the rest of her words drowned out by Christopher’s screams.

Chet glanced at her and found her looking at him, a crease of concern between her brows.

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He exaggerated the words so she could read his lips, and touched his knee to show here where he hurt. The touch made him gasp with pain. He turned his knee toward the sun to get a better look, then he saw them—hundreds of tiny blond filaments sprouting from his skin. They came out easily; the hard part was finding them all. What were they? Leftovers from a furred plant that had disintegrated in the heat? Not that it mattered where they came from. Just something else to watch out for.

When he could finally touch his knee without hurting, he hunkered by Christopher’s side and began removing the filaments. Francie’s eyes grew wide with comprehension, then she too set to work.

Christopher’s screams subsided to sobs then whimpers.

I’m sure you didn’t spot the discrepancy. In fact, I didn’t either at first. So, here’s the problem: they aren’t wearing shoes now, right? And had been wearing them until a few days previously? Which meant their soles weren’t yet acclimated to walking barefoot. Then why didn’t all the characters feel the splinters on the bottoms of their feet?

That’s as good a starting place for today’s writing session as any. Now I just need to figure a way around the problem. And hope there aren’t any more potential discrepancies.

***

Posted in books, fiction, writing. Tags: figuring out problems in my story, spotting discrepancies in writing, working on a book, working on an old manuscript. 5 Comments »

Room For My Book

March 4, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I don’t know what happened to today. The hours simply evaporated. Now should be the time for relaxing, but I need to do all the things I should have done earlier. (Such as writing this blog.) I did go out sauntering with my backpack, so that’s something, but I got back almost eight hours ago and did . . . well, obviously, not much of anything.

I did finish reading the last of what I had already written of my manuscript, but I am still having a hard time putting myself in the proper frame of mind for writing. I simply cannot hold the whole book in my head as I did when I first started writing. I was younger then, of course, and at the time, didn’t have much in my head. It’s not that I didn’t have things to think about; it’s that I couldn’t think about all the things that were going on in my life, such as Jeff being very sick, our business fading, our savings about gone. So I wrote. (Silly me, I had the idea that writing would solve our financial problems.)

Now, I have to keep a closet in my mind filled with the new dance I’m learning for a performance this June — if I don’t keep it available, the steps will slide right out of my head, and that won’t do at all. There’s a shelf somewhere in the back of my mind for my Pacific Crest Trail research, and that shelf looks like a hoarder’s shelf, with stuff falling all over the place. And then there’s a whole room set aside for things to do before my May trip to make the journey safer and more enjoyable. I’ve closed the door, but I still know the room is filled with items screaming for attention.

I’m sure there are several more shelves, closets, and storerooms in my mind containing stuff I can’t yet clear out, but at the moment, the lights are off in those places, and I can’t recall what I should be remembering.

Is it any wonder there’s no room for my book?

I might have to go back to the way I started writing — by hand. It’s a lot slower than typing, but it allows me the time to arrange at least part of the book in my head so I can move forward with the story.

Still, this time spent rereading what I’d written has helped me understand why I left the work idle for so long — every one of my other novels has an element of mystery. With a mystery, you know how the story is doing and where it is going. When the mystery is solved, the story ends. Without a mystery, I’m not sure what I am doing, not sure where I am going, and don’t know how to end it. (Well, that last one is a lie. I know the ending.)

For as old a manuscript as it is, the writing isn’t as jejune as I expected it to be. I did find a lot more “was”s than I use now, and too many scenes started with “he did this” or “he did that” rather than something more compelling, but over all, I’m pleased with the book and excited about working on the story again.

I hope I can keep the excitement when I actually start writing.

***

Posted in culture, fiction, life, writing. Tags: closets in my mind, finding room for writing, novel without a mystery, storeroom in my mind, trying to keep my book in my head, writing by hand. 3 Comments »

In Pursuit of Dreams

March 3, 2018 — Pat Bertram

The only thing wild about my backpacking saunters yesterday and today was the wind. And oh, my, was the wind wild! It seemed that no matter which direction I went, I was always heading into the gale. Several times, gusts blew so strongly, I could not take a single step forward until the wind stopped to take a breath. I’d just as soon not be out in the wind, but if I didn’t walk when it was windy, I wouldn’t walk at all. (We’re in the windy time, though truthfully, almost all times are windy here except for a few weeks in the middle of summer when any air movement would be welcome, and in the middle of winter.) Still, my hikes yesterday and today were about a half-hour shorter than the ones I’d been taking — not only is the wind hard to hike in, it frazzles my nerves until I want to scream. (Actually, come to think of it, I did scream once or twice, but that didn’t slow the wind velocity one whit.) That I went out at all just goes to show how dedicated I am in pursuing my impossible dream. (Though I have to admit, if the only weather I ever encountered on a wilderness trail were such unremitting winds, the dream of a long-distance hike would die unborn.)

I’m hoping I will be as dedicated this month to the dream of finishing my decade-old work in progress, a book that was started so long ago that the word “Internet” was still capitalized. I’ve lived so much in that time, written so much — blogs and other books — that it’s hard to put myself in the mindset of the story. If, as in a dream (the night kind, not the hopeful kind), all the characters in my story are different manifestations of my own persona, then how can I still be those characters when I am not them anymore? (Oddly, although much has changed in the past decade, the unsightly fad of young men wearing pants that hang below their underwear is still prevalent today. And of course, politicians are still lying.)

There is no wind in the book to frazzle my nerves, so yesterday I figured I’d spend an easy hour and a half writing, but after discovering that it’s almost impossible to continue writing a dormant book without knowing what the story is about, I spent the time reading the first half of what I had written.

I found myself smiling at the humor. Found myself pleased at the way I foreshadowed the ending in the first few chapters. Found myself chagrined that although I’d written the book to be timeless, I succeeded — the human politics and policies that so dismayed my poor hero continue to this day. As does the struggle to find a balance between freedom and safety.

Today’s “writing” session should be as easy as yesterday’s — I still have to finish reading the manuscript before I can add any words to the story, so there will be no writing. And no wind.

When I do finally propel the story forward, I hope I will do justice to my hero. It was a lot easier to write from a male point of view when I had Jeff to help keep the hero psychologically true to his gender. Perhaps if I inadvertently skew the poor character closer to my own gender bias, readers will accept the change as part of the character arc.

Assuming, of course, there are any readers. Although most of my published books are genre benders, this one is so different, it doesn’t bend any genre — it sidesteps genre altogether.

***

Posted in life, writing. Tags: all characters in a dream are the dreamer, desert winds, foreshadowing, gender rolls in fiction, genre bender, hiking in the wind, hopeful dreams, night dreams. 2 Comments »

First Day of My Novel Writing Month

March 2, 2018 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday was the first day of my novel writing month, and as you can see from the following timeline, I went right to work!!

5:30 pm Got on computer. Checked emails.

5:40 pm Checked Facebook. Made a couple of comments and responded to a message.

5:45 pm Played game of Solitaire.

5:48 pm Exchanged texts with a friend.

5: 53 pm Played another game.

5:58 pm Opened a document in MS Word and started this list.

6:00 pm Finally opened manuscript. Yay!

I made the few edits to the manuscript that my first reader found, scanned the last bit that I’d written all those years ago, and finally remembered What the Screams Were All About.

The last time I looked at the manuscript, it seemed as if I’d postponed writing a needed chapter between my poor character running from a horde one morning and waking up to screams the following morning, which I did not want to write so I put the book away again. On rereading the screaming excerpt, I realized an interim chapter would dilute the impact of the screams. (Probably why I hadn’t written the chapter in the first place, though it’s hard to remember when the manuscript is more than a decade old.)

Oddly, not writing the chapter makes me feel as accomplished as if I’d written. More so, actually, since it’s what the story needs.

Although I’d added only a few words to the book, by 7:15, I felt as if I’d done a whole days work.

So far, today all I’ve done is write this post about writing my book. Does that count as my writing stint for the day? No. I didn’t think so.

I’ll get started right away.

Oh, wait — is that the ping of a text I hear?

***

Posted in fiction, writing. Tags: my personal novel writing month, novel writing month, what the story needs, work in progress, working on an old manuscript, writing a needed chapter, writing a novel. 7 Comments »

Too Old to Hike the Pacific Crest Trail?

March 1, 2018 — Pat Bertram

Ever since I’ve started walking with a twenty-five pound pack two or three days a week, I’ve been waking up extremely stiff and sore and wobbly even on non-hiking days. Apparently, that’s what I get for trying to build up my strength!

Still, I would have thought that increased activity would eventually translate to an increase in agility and and mobility, but that’s not happening. At my age, tendons and ligaments lose elasticity, muscles lose strength (at a whopping 30% per decade without high intensity workouts and additional protein intake to offset the loss), and joints can be painful even if there is nothing particularly wrong with them. (So if I weren’t trying to build up my strength, I’d probably still wake up stiff and sore.)

Once I’ve “oiled” my muscles and joints by moving around and stretching a bit, I am okay, but I worry about the night stiffness and early morning adjustment on the trail, so I’ve been researching the feasibility of long-distance backpacking for older adults. I know there are quite a few famous folks who backpacked well into their eighties, but some of them were life-long athletes, others seem naturally strong or obstinate. But what about regular folks like me who aren’t particularly athletic and who come to backpacking later in life? The prospect of a long distance backpacking trip, or even a short one, is daunting enough without adding the challenge of age to the mix.

Apparently, though, for someone in reasonable health, there’s no reason not to attempt such a trek, (though anyone with even the beginnings of heart or lung problems would need to check with their doctor before setting out). From what I can gather, everyone, no matter what their age, hurts on the trail. Older folks just have to be careful to stretch when possible, use trekking poles to save knees, elevate the legs when resting to redistribute the blood flow, and carry as light a pack as is feasible. (Feasible for an older person is different than for a younger one. Some hikers can get by with a tarp for a tent, or an almost non-existent sleeping pad, but not me. I need a bit of comfort or I’d never sleep, and if I never slept, I wouldn’t get very far.)

Of course, age is truly relative when it comes to backpacking. I recently came across a demographic survey of hikers, comparing the younger folks with the older folks, and the cut-off age was thirty-four. (The “young” group was under thirty-four, the “old” group was thirty-four and up.) And, in a forum discussing the advisability of older folks thru hiking, I came across a query from a fellow who said he was going to be turning thirty, and he wanted to know if he was too old to attempt a thru hike.

Interestingly, older folks who did long-distance backpacking trips after retirement seemed to have more fun than the younger ones because they knew what they wanted from a hike. Some wanted to go the distance, others just wanted to be out in the wilderness for five months. While a lot of the younger folks complained about the hardships, the older folks enjoyed all of it, even the rain and such because often they were fulfilling a lifelong dream. Some of the experienced older hikers did the same sort of insane mileage as the younger ones, but most seemed okay with going slower and savoring the journey, whatever the length. Older people are also more liable to enjoy the hike because after a certain age, pain and stiffness are a fact of life, so physical discomfort might not as much as an affront as it would be to a younger person.

If I were looking for reasons to give up my idea of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (more than the day hikes I have already done, that is), I didn’t find them.

So, this weekend I will add another pound to my pack weight for my conditioning hike and bring my impossible dream a step closer to possible.

***

Posted in Adventure, culture, life. Tags: age is relative when it comes to backpacking, fulfilling a lifelong dream, older thru hikers, older women backpackers, Pacific Crest Trail, Pacific Crest Trail calls to me, thru hiking. 5 Comments »

Marching Along

February 28, 2018 — Pat Bertram

March begins tomorrow, and suddenly, it feels as if the the months are speeding by too fast. January seemed about three months long, and February about three days. At the rate I’m going, March will feel like three hours, and that is not enough time to do everything I need to do. Like print out more information about campsites and such for my May trip. Like get strong enough for a short backpacking trip. Like convert a bit of fat into muscle. Like work on my poor abandoned book.

In January, when I decided that March would be my novel writing month and marked “book” on my calendar, I felt as if I had forever to get in writing shape, and suddenly, here I am on the cusp of the month, and all I’ve done to prepare is drag out my printed copy of the manuscript.

I truly have no specific intentions other than to spend a bit of time every day focused on the book and maybe move the story along a bit. I have no word count goals, not even any expectation of finishing the book. I should be able to do that, right?

We shall see.

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Posted in being me, books, writing. Tags: focus on writing, my writing month, on the cusp of March, word count goals, work in progress. 2 Comments »

Look! A Snowflake!

February 27, 2018 — Pat Bertram

A friend drove me home from the dance studio this cold, blustery afternoon, and every once in a while, we’d see a tiny spot of white.

When I realized what I was seeing, I exclaimed, “Look! A snowflake!” A few minutes later, she made the same exclamation as she pointed out a flake.

I’m sure this fuss over a single flake or two of snow seems silly for those of you who have been all but buried in the stuff this winter, but for a couple of desert denizens, these few flakes amounted to a full blizzard.

Once upon a time, perhaps thirty years ago, more than two feet of snow fell in the desert, but I’ve only seen flurries a couple of times since I’ve been here, and whatever stuck to the ground disappeared as soon as the sun came out. The last time I saw any real snow was three years ago when a friend invited me to go snow hunting. Out here, where it seldom even rains, snow seems a mythical phenomenon. And yep, sure enough, we did find snow — enough to throw a couple of snowballs around; enough to chill our feet.

And we weren’t the only ones flocking to the nearby mountain to gog at the snow that long-ago day — the roads were all but impassable because of the traffic.

Today there was only a bit of dusting on the surrounding mountains, but even here in the desert, we got to see a snowflake. Or two.

Such high excitement!

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: desert snow, gogging at snow, snowballs, snowflake, winter in the desert. 1 Comment »

What I Should Be Doing

February 26, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I did a quiz about what I should be doing for the next six months. This is the response I got:

For real!! Admittedly, the quiz was sponsored by a sporting goods store focused on hiking, but still, to get such a response seems . . . prophetic.

For sure do I seek change. In fact, I desperately need a change. And I certainly am ready to strap on my boots and just take off. It sounds so wonderful to go where the wind blows and the trail goes. But though my mind (and will) are strong, the body is still so weak. My ability to carry a twenty-five pack for any length of time has more to do with growing stubbornness than growing strength, which makes me wonder about any sort of multi-day hike.

I keep telling myself all I have to do is get through the next two months, and then I can head north. I do not want to come back, but I promised, and much as it pains me, I try to keep my promises.

But then, who knows?

Actually, what my heart really longs for is to go back home to Jeff, but that is not a possibility since he’s gone, so the PCT will have to do.

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