New Anthology Release!

I have a story in this anthology with Anvil Press, a piece of creative non-fiction titled "When Something Awful Happened," about my interaction with death and how my accident changed my views.

This was a labor of love for Elee Kraljii Gardiner ad everyone involved could feel her dedication to creating a special collection that our world needed. Several of the other contributors died before publication. This anthology is amazing and has a lot to say that our culture doesn't talk about. This collection has a lot to teach us.

"Literary Nonfiction. Poetry. Essays. AGAINST DEATH is an anthology of creative non-fiction exploring the psychological shifts that occur when we prematurely or unexpectedly confront death. AGAINST DEATH is a natural outgrowth of the editor's experience of surviving a vertebral artery dissection and stroke and the subsequent writing of a long poem memoir about the event. To be "against" something can mean two different things at the same time. "Against" can mean pressed up close to something, yet it can also signify refusal. These texts deal with the affects of this proximity, taking into account any meaning of the word. Rather than showcase only extreme survival stories or difficult biological situations, the pieces in AGAINST DEATH consider the ways we make sense of death on a personal level and how we integrate that thinking as we continue forward. AGAINST DEATH articulates the personal experiences of each author's "near-deathness," utilizing fresh and inventive language to represent what "magical thinking" proposes. These pieces are incisive and articulate, avoiding the usual platitudes, feel-good bromides, and pep talks associated with near-death encounters. The writing moves past the sob story and confronts the tough circumstance of facing death with truth and compassion, no matter how ugly or (in)convenient."

Buy it from Anvil Press (Canada).
Buy it on Amazon.
Buy it at Barnes and Noble.

On the Other Side of Opioids

I posted over a year ago about getting back on my feet with writing after my accident. Soon after that post came the death of a dear friend, the death of my doctor, the loss of recovery services, and then new information about long-term opioid use.

I had thought that because I was taking less than half of the recommended daily dose that I was doing well. I discovered that I was still taking a significant dose. And I learned that a small percentage of patients were experiencing a sensitivity to it that created more physical pain instead of diffusing it.

I was in that category. And thinking I was experiencing more pain-- which I was-- led me to take more oxycodone. I was still under my daily allowance. But it didn't matter. I had been on oxy for three years and it only takes 7-9 days for a patient's body to become dependent upon it.

I may not have been addicted but I was dependent. And without a doctor. And scared.

It took me a while to find a doctor who would see me. I found one. No one wanted to take on a patient who was already taking a narcotic that was now being closely monitored and regulated. I was not treated kindly by everyone. I often felt like I had to point out what should have been obvious from my file-- I was burned badly. I almost lost my legs. I needed the pain meds.

I didn't want to need them.

I spent October through December weaning off them, cutting every dose in half for a few weeks and then cutting it in half again until I was taking the smallest sliver. I was told by my doctor to take those slivers and to call the office if I had any issues.

Which of course I did. Always at 3 a.m. when no one was in the office. And there were a few nights that my heart was swollen in my throat and racing so fast I thought I would die. 

The months that followed have been better and harder. My mind is clearer but physically there was some backsliding. So while I am ready for more mentally I can do less than I could. I was visiting with my mom recently and when I complained about my lack of energy, compared to last year she said something that stopped me cold.

That energy level was drug-induced.

So I'm aware now. I'm awake now. I have more pain than I hoped I would. But the stories are coming out. Editing takes too long still but I have learned to carve out the time I need to get deadlines met. I don't have the energy to write all night anymore. I have lost count have how many times I have fallen asleep mid-blink and wake with my hand on the mouse, hovering over a highlighted section. A couple of times I have discovered I deleted passages I meant to cut and paste.

I'm learning a new routine to make my artistic process possible for these new hands and this new body.

Speaking of new things, I have some things to look forward to, to keep encouraging forward momentum. I have a non-fiction story on my near-death moment coming out in five days in Against Death: 35 Essays on Living edited by Elee Kraljii Gardiner. And I have a supernatural urban fantasy story coming out in the anthology Of Fae and Fate in October.

Some of these hurdles have been hard enough to almost convince me that maybe one of the sacrifices of living was going to be my storytelling. I had to consider that maybe my post-trauma brain was different. And maybe it is. But the stories are there, more than just whispers of birdsong. 

I'm listening. And I'm ready. 

Lag Time

It’s been a while. Since my last post I have had two more Outpatient surgeries with a Carbon Scar Laser to breakdown the thicker scar tissue on my legs limiting my mobility. With that came two weeks of intense recovery, which included pain as well as exhaustion and mental fatigue from the anesthesia.

It made writing practically impossible. That was severely frustrating, coming after two years of trying desperately to regain my form, discipline, and momentum.

Then the day came where I found myself with no submissions out for publication consideration. No one was reading my work. And I panicked.

It’s hard enough, while in recovery, not to feel useless every time I have to set a story aside to be finished later, or let go of a submission deadline I could meet if I only didn’t do any of the self-care I need to do. It feels like failure.

If I want any kind of longevity my self-care has to come first. I know this. It doesn’t mean I don’t push at the edges of what that means to see how much more I can do as I heal.

So I spent two weeks in a half-haze discerning which submission calls were realistic to attempt time-wise. I sent a few out and then had to stop. The quality was lagging. I didn’t want to compromise my writing out of fear. But now there are subs still out, still being considered. Every day that goes by without a rejection is a blessed day.

And I’m starting to have the energy again to work.

Stories are forming from the warming days. Characters are climbing out of the birdsong and their histories poke through the cold earth. There will be time to recover and time to write.

A Guest Post for Transmundane Press

I had the privilege of writing a guest post for Transmundane Press' blog, for the upcoming anthology On Fire. My story in the anthology, "The Last Seven Tribes of Ketchari," was the first story I wrote after my burn accident, so it is very meaningful to me.

I titled my blog "What Burned Away" and in it I share some details about my accident, but I also convey how it altered my relationship with my writing and the hope it gave me as I look forward.

https://transmundanepressblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/16/what-burned-away-by-sarah-lyn-eaton/

NaNoWriMo & Me & 52,000 words

I finished. I reached 50,000 words. But I'm not done yet.

It was easy to flesh out my coma memories. It was also easy to slip into them. I haven't tried to bring them to the surface since I wrote down my outline after my discharge. The more I wrote the more I remembered.

NaNoWriMo became more of my recovery therapy than I anticipated. I spent my mornings pulling posts from social media during my time in the coma. I split posts up into groups and months. I fleshed out the spaces between. And I fell into my own rabbit hole and wrote down that journey.

All the little shadowed nooks and crannies in my mind got turned upside down and inside out. My coma journey was like my own shamanic-underworld-experience. While I do not endorse the method to anyone I am considering it a gift from this accident and riding it.

As far as the work of writing, I maintained my speed and reached the goal. I will spend the winter finishing the coma experiences and then work on the night terrors over the spring. I am hoping to add in the recovery posts and weed the important ones out of them over the summer. By fall I mean to have a read-worthy draft ready.

NaNoWriMo & Me

This year for National Novel Writing Month I am writing out a manuscript of my coma experiences and subsequent night terrors from my accident.

I am just on track. It is day 15 and I am at 25,600 words. But I am just on track. I need two good days of nothing but writing this week to get a jump ahead.

Writing in recovery is hard. And it's been hard to keep up with it when I keep falling asleep with my hand on the mouse. The want is there but the physical ability is not.

I'm not upset about it. I expected it. The goal is not 50,000 words. It's working on it every day. It's chasing the finish line. But I'm not where I thought I'd be, even after cutting myself some slack.

I feel worse off than last year.

And my wife reminds me that I have been undergoing surgeries this year, which is different from last year.

So there's that.

But I am on the track and plugging along. I hope that by putting these stories to paper, so to speak, they will release some of the hold they have on my every day. I appreciate the tool nanowrimo has been for me in my recovery.

My Latest Story is in the Anthology On Fire

BURN, BABY, BURN

Capable of creation and destruction, fire burns within us.

Behind the thick, black smoke of our lives, we blaze with our own unique flame.

While love compels some, others feed greed and lust into their hearths.

A tool for the deft hand, used with magic or as a weapon, but irresponsibility leaves deep burns and promises dreadful consequences.

ON FIRE brings to light twenty-six tales that explore this unpredictable yet beautiful element.

Handle with care.

Coming out 12.01.17!

Contact Information

Website:http://www.transmundanepress.com/

Blog: transmundanepressblog.wordpress.com

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/TransmundanePress/

Twitter:https://twitter.com/TransmundnePres

Newsletter sign up: http://eepurl.com/bYiL2r

Editors’ Bios:

Alisha Costanzo is from a Syracuse suburb. She earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Central Oklahoma, where she currently teaches English. She’s the author of BLOOD PHOENIX: REBIRTH, BLOOD PHOENIX: CLAIMED, LOVING RED, and BLOOD PHOENIX: IMPRINTED and is co-editor of DISTORTED, UNDERWATER, and AFTER THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. LUCIFER’S DAUGHTER, her new novel, is its creation for a hopeful 2018 release. In the meantime, she will continue to corrupt young minds, rant about the government, and daydream about her all around nasty creatures.

                                              

Having relocated from Northwest Florida’s lonesome roads and haunted swamps, Anthony S. Buoni now prowls the gas lamp lit streets of New Orleans, playing moonlight hide and seek in the Crescent City’s above ground cemeteries. Anthony is the author of Conversation Party, Bad Apple Bolero, as well as the editor to the Between There anthologies.  His stories and articles have been featured in North Florida Noir and Waterfront Living. When not prowling, Anthony keeps it scary, writing dark fiction, editing, and watching horror movies.  In his spare time, he DJs, plays music, and conjures other worldly creatures with tarot cards and dreams.

Visit our author pages to learn more about the contributors here.