writing – Rhys Ford

Hello and I wanted to stop by and just sort of ramble.

It has been a long time since I wanted to write. Or rather it is been a long time since I’ve tapped into that fuzzy space where my writing happens. A lot of it has to do with the continuous pain of being sliced open and stitched back up as well as the immersion blender I think they used up my guts. It’s odd how it comes in waves of brain-dead numbness to exhaustion just from cleaning out the cat boxes. I’ve had others tell me it took them a year which I can totally see but I had hoped that wouldn’t. But here I am at the six-month mark going, hurry up already.

I am not known for my patience with myself.

I do find the body interesting. And I also guess there is a lot to do with the aging process and bodily trauma that has been done before because certain things are very easy to do while simple things get harder.

So it’s been an interesting journey.

I don’t have a lot of exciting news to share mostly because I have been trying to rearrange my life. I am going to have to retire my old laptop here because it has reached a point of not being happy with this existence. It does make me kind of sad because I have had it for many a year and have dragged it across of several continents. But the technology has evolved and it is kind of heavy clocking in at almost 10 pounds. One of the things I hate about getting a new laptop is transferring everything over so I have not to look forward to.

Apparently one of the best things about moving is the preponderance of squirrels the cats can watch through the windows. Goji has already picked up a nemesis and she continuously battles it through the glass every morning. Or so she believes. I do not think the squirrel actually is aware it is in a battle but there is a lot of name-calling and chittering done in its direction.

Oh! I was successful in my battle to get the Firebird registered which was an exercise and a half in bureaucracy. I got everything with me like current registration, title, and insurance. Only to be told that I needed the prior year’s registration card as well. Or I would have to pay the purchase fee for the car which would be interesting considering I bought it in 1987ish . Honestly I was at the point of saying I don’t give a fuck about the purchase fee and just tell me how much it is me make the decision about paying for it and then I was told they could not figure that out until I had a sale slip. Not only do I not save my registration cards from prior years but I also do not save a sales receipt for a car I purchased decades ago, especially since I have the title in my hand.

When I contacted California to see how to get out of this dilemma there was a full on discussion of what the fucking hell and we don’t keep house registrations because they are current that is the only ones that matter but here is something you can print out that shows history. Of course it’s not official by any means because it doesn’t have the California state logo or anything other than this view of numbers that show the car’s registration history and any parking tickets assigned to the car as well as the succession of personalized license plates it’s. So I went in again with just that extra piece of paper because that’s all I had and everyone decided that no I didn’t need it and it ends up with what I had already was enough.

I don’t blame the people at DMV because they are just usually trying to make sense of the directions given to them by the Transportation Department of that state. They are caught up in those tangles just as much as everyone else. I do finally get registration and I have officially left California.

To be honest I don’t know how I feel about that and there are actually a lot of things that I need to process through so there is going to be some journey taken at this point in my life that I did not expect to encounter. It will be interesting to see where I go because I have not felt anchored in a long time and I need to get that done.

I’m not really too sure what that looks like but it’ll definitely be a journey.

And God I need to write because I have Luke’s book started and a plot all worked out. It’s sitting RIGHT there!

It is actually kind of strange to be on the verge of a new release after the last couple years… Crap. One of the things that someone struggles with following rapid succession of surgeries is how much it steals the way your brain. And since this roller coaster of the journey isn’t done yet, it’s going to be continuous fights but hopefully when I can succeed at.

It always amuses me to hear people talk about how much they enjoy writing because I don’t really enjoy it per se. It’s not like sitting down with a cup of coffee and listening to the rain. But there is a lot of satisfaction when the words fall into place at least close to what I imagine the scene is in my mind and getting the chain of events that leads to impactful scenes or even the end of the book is a kind of joy in a way.

When I write I usually start off with either a premise or a situation that comes to mind involving existing characters or the framework of a new character sort of emerges out of the goop in my brain. At the technical term by the way — goop. It always feels like sourdough bread with too much liquid in it because everything is sticky and you can’t get it off your fingers but eventually it does become something and that’s because you’ve added more substance to it. I am not a good baker. Baking is much more of a science than an art and while you can do variations with it you have to really know the limitations and how far you can push that science. Cooking is much more forgiving and in a lot of ways it is actually worse because taste is subjective.

I can say this with confidence because there is a continuous battle between The Five about arugula and whether or not it should be eaten. I happen to be a fan of arugula. Others, not so much. Keep in mind I also like canned peas and mayonnaise so we all have our culinary burdens to bear.

I am mostly hoping that Port in a Storm does well but mostly I hope that everyone who has ever brushed up against the foster care system finds it speaks to them on some level or that they see echoes of their own experiences. In a lot of ways it’s like having survived the horrors of some psychological or even physical war that no one else in the world but there are other participants who bear the same scars on their bodies and minds. In a lot of ways this is two books — on one level written for those who are Tate and Forest and on another those who are Connor. I would love for everyone to have grown up in a Morgan household but I knew from experience that is not the case. I also know it is a struggle sometimes to survive a childhood that seems impossible to live through and I wanted to write something where there is hope and depicts the family love for a child not born to its cradle.

At one point in my life I was told that nobody really wants somebody else’s child and I am going to have to agree with that because the instances are few and far between and you are trapped in the tentacles of the eldritch monster that is the foster care system or child protective services. I have long questioned the intelligence of taking children away from parents who are struggling financially and then giving those kids to people who then receive financial support to house those children. I also wonder where people who fight so hard to take away a woman’s right to choose are after an unwanted child is born and there is no food or shelter or resources to feed it and raise it into a healthy human being. I would want that for any child regardless of its situation. And if someone is able to take in the child and love it… nurture it… and create a person to contribute to life in some way then I am all for that as well.

But then again I’m pretty sure that if you read my books, you already know where I stand socially. Children in their lives should not be a political piece on some gameboard but often times they are because they have no rights and many don’t make it to adulthood intact.

Writing Port in a Storm was both cathartic and a sticky mess. So I guess the best thing that we all can do is to speak kindly to yourself and be gentle with the wounds that you carry. Some days won’t be easy — I know that. Trust me. There are a lot of days when I’m like what the fuck is going on and why am I here?

On those days is when you need that cup of coffee or tea and if it isn’t raining where you are then maybe find some rain sounds to listen to and give yourself a few moments. You deserve that. I promise, you deserve that.