Nicholas Sparks fans will recognize the city of New Bern from our city’s famous author.
Now Ashley Crookham fans can get a copy of Virtue Chasm from the shelves of The Next Chapter Books and Art on Front Street. Stroll in on your next visit and enjoy!
No, it’s not national.
No, we’re not writing a whole novel.
We are writing every day.
For the month of November.
My writing friend and I choose this month to get back into the daily habit of writing. Each of us prepared in October and checked in daily with each other to talk about how our commitment was going. Some things I learned:
I now have 15000 words for book one of my series. Who knows what December could bring.
When I first heard about COVID-19, it was a horrific issue but “over there”. So much has changed since January. As someone who had it and survived it, this is what I’ve learned.
I realize when I tell you I had it, you might take a mental step back from me. I would too. I am pregnant and with two small children and I never wanted to endanger them.
We went through the normal steps getting used to the pandemic: The life-changing grocery store visit with scary bare shelves where I couldn’t find baby detergent and didn’t know what to do for my child with eczema. This is not the world I’m used to, one where I can get anything I want at any time.
The library’s story time was just a story and they closed the imagination station.
Restaurants posted their struggles to survive without full dining rooms.
Every business I ever subscribed to sent me e-mails to let me know they cared most about safety.
The car seat specialist cancelled our appointment the same day as the baby dentist.
We had our last trip to the store with the me and the kids. I wore one child and kept the other in the cart chair and got mad when an older man touched her leg.
Life continued. The kids got used to hearing “the zoo is closed”, “the slide is dirty”, “the guest room has to stay empty”. The weather improved and we took walks whenever we could.
Unlike many people, I know the date I got it. I work in a psychiatric hospital. We found out a co-worker tested positive and our managers told us how to get tested for free. I did so on a Friday. The next day, I went into work for a half day and found out at the end of the day most of the patients tested positive or were showing symptoms. I called my doctor who recommended I isolate myself and my family. The first test from before my exposure came back negative. I got tested again the following Friday and it came back positive. Actually, it said “detected”.
I still worry about the fate of those patients. Although I got it and had no symptoms, a nurse co-worker was not so lucky. She died in the hospital after a few days of battling COVID-19.
So what does a positive test mean for my family?
I knew that the placenta does a good job of protecting the baby from viruses but they just don’t know everything when it comes to pregnancy and COVID-19. I knew as a pregnant woman my immune system was more susceptible which is probably how I got it while wearing an N-95 mask, gloves, and washing my hands appropriately.
Work knew we were isolating, daycare knew I was being cautious and pulling the kids, I cancelled newly rescheduled appointments for places opening back up. We told our families to pause their plans brewing to visit the grandchildren they haven’t seen all year.
In short, we lost what we had been accumulating back.
Since I wasn’t having symptoms, it was less likely I would give it to my family. However we needed to extend our quarantine to see if any of them got it. We needed to wake up every day, take our small children’s temperatures, and just hope they didn’t get sick. For another 12 days.
No one in our family got symptoms. My husband got tested after being cleared back to work and that came back negative as another peace of mind.
For our unborn baby, it meant I needed a special ultrasound with a fetal maternal specialist. This came back so well that the doctor didn’t even see us. He sent in his nurse practitioner to tell us our baby is perfect and they don’t want to follow up.
For the future, the Department of Health is tracking us, especially me as a pregnant woman. They will probably test me again before I give birth in a hospital (and not at a birth center this time). The positive reading can take months to go away after it is first detected. They also don’t know if you can contract it more than once.
I am thankful not to have had symptoms. I am thankful I immediately isolated and didn’t pass it on. I am hopeful about antibodies and that maybe our youngest will be immune or less susceptible. I am hopeful I will no longer be showing positive before the delivery and that my first hospital delivery will not be too bad.
How will this will affect my writing? You might be thinking I’ve had so much more time for it. However I spent a lot of time worrying, cleaning, and worrying about not enough cleaning. Keeping the kids occupied while we were keeping away from others took a lot of thought, especially without making money from work to spend on them or without the ability to go to stores. We picked up groceries after ordering online.
I can’t say that a world changed by COVID-19 won’t make an appearance in my future works. It seems to me as indelible as a world war and would be stranger to ignore. I can’t even read lately without thinking, “What if this had been written after 2020?”
How do you think this pandemic will affect your reading and writing?
(This post has been delayed due to Covid-19. I’m thrilled to finally be able to share it.)
I spent a lovely afternoon with my husband at a book store.
When we finally found the books there the game began.
The Cover Game
What can you tell from a book cover? If you know the book, what makes sense about the cover? If you don’t know the book, what do you guess the story is about?
What clues to genre does the cover give off? Is the book meant to inform or entertain more?
Do only established authors get to put their names on top of the title? Do certain fonts express credibility?
Most interesting to me was the branding of an author. How can you tell it’s from a particular person? Do an author’s books all have something in common? I want to compliment V. E. Schwab on the use of the first letter of her first name in her book covers. It struck me and I’ve since become a reader and fan.
If you’re ever again able to browse in a bookstore, here in Indiana or elsewhere, it is a fun exercise and will give you much to think about.
What will my covers have in common?
From now on, I will always make sure my covers convey the visual arrows I want potential readers to have. As far as cohesiveness, they will all be painted by my true love.
Have you ever played the cover game? What did you learn?
Friends on Facebook will already know I had my first author interview for Virtue Chasm on 28th April 2020.
This interview would not have been possible, most likely, without the Covid-19 situation since the 4th grade teacher in Colorado invited me via Zoom to enhance her online lesson.
The students were excited. They wanted to know what I read at their age, when I decided to become an author, and how I get inspired.
I gave them an outline to the story creating process. I even did a reading of part of the first chapter. After it was over, the teacher told me three of her students proclaimed they wanted to be writers as well.
They inspired me to keep working and to realize how lucky I am to be on the other side of the publishing process.
Something not possible with the Covid-19 situation is a typical book launch. With my background in activities, putting together such an event seems easier to me than a virtual book launch, but I read an article that made it seem more feasible:
The article showed me I have experience with Zoom and reading my book aloud, so perhaps I could still promote my book while social distancing.
What do you think? Should I pursue an event for Virtue Chasm online? If so, what would you like to see as a giveaway there?
You may wonder why I chose to write under the name Crookham.
Crook. Ham.
Many people assume I’m too nice to steal.
Many people assume I’m too nice to eat meat. (Especially cute pigs.)
These are the reasons I write as Ashley Crookham:
The name Crookham comes from my grandfather. He had one sister and two daughters and therefore our branch of the Crookham tree ended when his children married and took their husbands’ names. My grandparents were and are so important to me. Although I grew up and married and took my husband’s name I knew if I ever became an author I wanted to extend the Crookham branch just a bit. It was one of the reasons I strove to finish Virtue Chasm.
Now you know too.
What role do family names play in your life?
Whritmorh Street. A narrow winding road of clothing stores, café’s, bistros, and curio shops intermixed with art galleries and jewelry stores for the more upscale shopper. Accustomed mainly to foot traffic, it could be the type of street in any cosmopolitan district. What makes Whritmorh Street different, is that its clientele are fictional characters. It is one of the many streets they visit after a novel or short story is written.
Miko walked down the street with purpose, eyeing the windows and doors. She was unaccustomed to the quiet peaceful nature of this town. Not having to fight for survival since her last novel was as new as friendship and making her own decisions. She smiled as she walked, she liked this feeling.
She turned into the Recto Verso, her new favorite tea shop. It wasn’t the tea in the shop she had fallen in love with, it was the smoothie bar inside the tea shop. The mango fruit smoothies they served were out of this world, literally and figuratively.
Miko waved to the tender behind the smoothie bar and held up two fingers. He was a mind reader from Dale Grove’s Outlier Revolutions and therefore it was an unnecessary gesture on her part but the smoothie bar tender nodded and began clanging glasses readying the frozen mixtures.
At the entrance, Freida held the door for a few more patrons before entering. She meandered past the counter, around a half wall, and through the mismatched furniture until a couple rose from their seats. They were wearing running clothes and stretching their legs as they sought the exit. Even though they had left a signed copy of the short story “Born to Stub” as a tip for their waiter, Freida still thought it was rude of them to leave their dishes on such a busy morning. She bused the table herself, pulling a hand embroidered rag from her skirt pocket to clear the crumbs.
With a final reshuffling of the coxcomb flowers, Freida gestured to Miko to come over, “This one is ready. I’ll wait with you here until your guest arrives.” She leaned in casually, and didn’t notice as Miko stiffened from the proximity, “Ashley Crookham’s book Virtue Chasm actually got me to prefer coffee.”
Miko set down her cups and took off her duster coat. “I’m not meeting anyone here.” She mindlessly wiped dust from her boots, they were still dirty from the novel Helena Chronicles written by Scott Parks, despite the fact that the book had been with beta readers for the past couple of months and the author had only recently reached out to an editor. It was plenty of time to get cleaned up but she liked the reminder of the adventure she had been on.
“Oh?” Freida took another look at the two beverages but rested her hands on her lap without further comment.
The amber lit shop sloshed with humans balancing things in their hands and tinkled with dishes on lacquered tabletops and metal cutlery on china.
Miko followed Freida’s eyes then glanced sheepishly at her two drinks, “I can’t help it, they’re so delicious. The drinks here are better than the choices I had in my novel. The food in my hive was packed with nutrients and energy but it lacked variety. Grimmson and his gang introduced me to some new fruits, but they weren’t very filling. I was lucky to get orange juice on Helena.”
Freida pointed her chair in the direction of the juice bar and scooted to the edge of her seat as though she were going to stand but the mind reading tender was already placing a perspiring cup in her hand. She reached for some Venuside bills, each with a different female figure. The bill on top featured Annora, lying on her side in her classical pose, torso raised in the air. Her tunic and pleated ruffled by the wind, she had just loosed an arrow from her intricately carved short bow. A colorful duck is flying in the background, a moment before her arrow strikes. Underneath was written “May Annora Guide your arrow.” When she looked up to pass them to the man, he had evanescenced with the rustle of a page turning.
To Miko she said, “I hate when they do that.” She sipped the blend and smiled. “My friend Orla would like this. Do you see any of your other characters here?”
Miko donned her helmet to check where the blender yielder had stood, “I’ve never lost anyone yet.” She paused, “My crew is still two blocks over. Ox, one of the main characters plays a mute in the story. He’s been enjoying his time here, he goes to karaoke bar almost every day and stretches his vocal cords. He’s got a decent voice, I have no idea why the author didn’t give him a single line of dialogue the entire book.”
She took her helmet off with a shrug, set it next to her and picked up her drink and sucked through the straw. “Besides, the boys aren’t suited to tea shops. We stopped at a nice restaurant a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to go somewhere new and I thought some culture might do them some good. So, we sit down and the waitress comes over, see’s Grimmson’s side arm in his holster, gives it a glance and clears her throat. Of course, he completely missed the sign out front saying to leave firearms outside and instead thinks he’s forgetting his manners. He pulls his gun out of the holster, and places it next to the dessert fork and says “See I know what I’m doing! Salad fork, dinner fork, dessert fork, and revolver. Just like in Oceanfront.”
“He didn’t!” Freida covered her gasp with her hands.
“He did!” Miko laughed, “Then he sat back with this smug grin on his face like he did the right thing. What about you? Where are the other characters from your book? Where is this Orla at?”
“She’s not here. None of us have seen her, not even my brother, and he got here before the rest of us.” Freida nudged the cup aside and rested her elbow while twirling a dark lock. “Ward guesses the next place we go will be permanent and we’ll all be there. He has a whole flow chart, I won’t even try to explain. Basically, his hypothesis is that this place doesn’t want us to resist moving on, so it doesn’t quite give us everything.”
Miko thought. “You know, I did wonder why none of the shops do dirigible repairs.”
“Exactly. Whritmorh is wonderful, don’t get me wrong. It has thoughtful womanly touches and sturdy manly implementation.” She gave a shrug and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, “I’m not trying to be all main-charactery, but all of the bed covers stay in place. I’m tired of sleeping on top of the comforter.” She took another sip. “I won’t be one of the ones who lingers forever.”
“That doesn’t bother me at all,” Miko replied. “I’ve been sleeping under my bed, it reminds me of my hive.”
Freida laughed. “Well, you sound pretty content. I believe you’ll be okay if your author takes as long as mine to publish.”
Miko chuffed, “I’ve already been here a long time. I’ve seen a lot of other characters come and go. I was in my author’s first novel but instead of publishing us he decided to do a series of short stories and to start a couple of other novels like he was Don Quixote tilting at windmills. Different genres, different styles, the works. It’s like he has a writer’s form of ADD. He’s a master of chapter ones.”
She adjusted herself in her seat and took another sip, “I’m not too worried though, he did come back and do some serious editing to clean the story up and he has promised us a second novel, maybe even a third one as well. Of course, he’s currently working on two other series and a collab with another author so I don’t know when the other books are coming.”
“I hope the best for you and your crew,” Freida squeezed up her shoulders, then relaxed them when tables cleared at the same time for the queue of waiting shop goers. She gestured a flat hand, “Things could always be worse. No one I’ve met here was from an unfinished story. I’ll bet their version of Whritmorh is not as classy at all, if they even get one.”
MIko shrugged, “There has to be something else, characters in a series have to go somewhere, right?”
A waitress came by and flipped down the bookmark-shaped flag Freida had repositioned. Her name tag said “Celess”. Freida squinted. “You’re all glowy. Do we share an author?”
“Could be, or it could be that I’m a fairy godmother.” Celess flicked through the screen of her tablet without looking up, “Are you ready to order or what?”
Miko asked, “Is that a joke? I’ve lost touch with my sense of humor after Helena.”
“Two parfaits, one to go.” Freida cleared her mouth, then added, “If you have time in between looking at single mens’ profiles.”
Celess left, muttering about necessary research.
“You recommend the parfaits?” Miko asked after inspecting the waitress signal.
Freida pulled in her chair to let someone pass behind her, then scooted back to make room to don her shawl. “No idea. I never eat the same thing twice. My book father taught me to trust my gut though, and the description included honey drizzle so I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“I may have to try one of those parfait thingy’s the next time I visit this shop,” Miko said thoughtfully. “I’ve learned to enjoy my time here, it’s more peaceful than Helena. I miss the action sometimes but I can sleep a lot easier at night knowing I’m not being hunted.”
After a pause, Miko continued, “This is a nice place, hopefully we’ll run into each other again, either here or wherever it is characters go after they’re published.” Her helmet beeped, she stole a quick peek. “The boys are done with karaoke and are heading to the range for some target practice for the sequel. I’m going to meet them there, you should join us, if not today then maybe soon. I think I still have some time here. ”
“Don’t stay here too long, you might meet the fan fiction version of yourself.” Freida stood, then clutched the bagged parfait. “Ward never speculated about what we could bring to the next place, men tend to forget such details.” With a wave and a sound like a hardcover book closing, she was gone.
Miko glanced at the abandoned parfait. Freida had somehow left a drawing on a napkin with a girl in Amish-looking clothes handing a waspish warrior a cup of layered dessert while Miko was absorbed in her smoothie. Also, a fan of Venuside bills lying on the table led Miko to briefly wonder if the fictional characters portrayed on fictional money had their own version of Whritmorh after their scene was over. She shrugged, sipped down the last of her first drink, then picked up her to-go snack and slipped back out into the busy street.
When a writer comes up with a story idea, they want to share it just as they would good news about love, work, or family. However there are very good reasons not to tell others. To prevent anyone feeling rebuffed, here a few reason I feel I shouldn’t write about what I’m writing about:
These are my thoughts, and the reason I held back on plans after an engagement and a child’s name before she was born.
What are your thoughts on telling a story before it is complete?
You come home to a package on your door. You haven’t ordered anything, and see your name hand-written.
It’s a gift.
You bring it inside. No matter what is in it, you know you’ll be pleased. It could be something you need, something you want, something you haven’t thought of, or a mixture.
You open it up to see your surprises and a note from a friend. It warms your heart that she’s been thinking of you and knows you well enough to gather these items.
Naturally, you think of what you can send to her. What can she use that you may have or need? What have you found out about that may delight her too?
She hasn’t expected a return- but you now have the desire. You may not have much spare money to purchase something for her. You may have to give up something for yourself to pay back her favor. Or you could craft something creatively.
You think of other people who could use an unexpected package. You stay up late to make things, work an extra shift to help with shipping costs. You give an extra product to someone random because you can. You’re known as the inspired friend.
You come home to a package on your door. You’ve ordered something online and it has come in. You waited to order it when the arbitrary price the seller agreed to went down. You waited to order it when you worked enough hours at a set wage to get paid and put that money in a bank account you can draw from.
You chose exactly what you wanted. You worked for it, and it feels good to buy yourself what you craved. At the end of this day, you owe no one anything.
The term gift economy was a new one to me. After a lifetime of trading work for value and cashing that value in for goods and services, the concept is foreign.
In a gift economy, there is no currency. It is different from a barter system because valuables are given without expectation of reward.
People who wax poetic about gift economy will tell you there are many plusses. People are all equals since the hierarchy of net worth is missing. Everyone must work as a community, and jobs are given in a democratic way. The government does not need to spend so much time taxing and punishing people but instead focuses on assessing and meeting their needs. The community does not have to overproduce. With time freed by not needing to overproduce or spend time counting beans, people can “selfishly” pursue their own interests. The results can lead to breakthroughs that benefit everyone instead of being hoarded by a few. Resources are held in commons.
The act of gift giving creates bonds instead of receipts. It triggers reciprocity instead of debt. People might return the favor even bigger because people seek a sense of contribution. The only way to be “rich” is to work hard to amass things to give so you can have gift-giving prestige. Psychologists might tell you the connections made from gift economy lead to happiness and our traditional economy isolates us into depression.
There are examples of this around us already. Freecycle, Buy Nothing, Impossible, Open Source. To gain notice, artists and business people might offer free things.
Gift economy can be used in conjunction with barter, but that might not solve all the potential problems. It seems to depend on people being selfless as a whole. It requires faith that common needs like roads and special welfare for the unable will be taken care of.
Decommodification takes the things we’re used to paying for, and turns them into entitlements for all. If you’re interesting in switching our economy, how would you do so?
We know that machines can do so much for us, and sometimes better than humans. Some of us fear this. We could be replaced and we require an income so what job would we have to take instead? In a gift economy machines free us from work so we can focus on the interests of our choice.
If you hear about gift economy, or live through it at something like Burning Man, you may be convinced. Or you may think it’s unfeasible. Would people with money want to give up their status and power over others? If they think gift economy will fail, they might focus on defending themselves from potential thieves from the gift economy who aren’t getting as much as they want. (How large of a wall would they need?) Would the media be honest about the successes of gift economy or focus on confirming the “chaos”?
Even if you aren’t affluent, you still might not find gift economy appealing. Collectively we might be able to survive as a species. Giving up creature comforts might be too big of a sacrifice. If you like working hard to collect unique resources, you might not like being held back by the community.
Capitalism might not always being an option. Automation risks jobs. The economy is unpredictable and difficult to study because it may be based on equilibrium theory and assume people will act rationally and in their best interest to maximize return. We don’t.
Some would be happy to see capitalism in the rear view. Gone would be the days where we are convinced we need to be controlled with money. Instead we could be civil just because we’re human. We could be driven for others instead of just ourselves. Gone would be the social stratification, seeing money as a means to an end, competing against each other for the opportunity to work. Gone would be the scarcity mindset and focusing on what you lack. Those hoarding wealth and depression could be set free.
This is how I’ve come to understand it, at least. What do you know about gift economy? What ideas does it inspire?
“Why do I need a warning about NaNoWriMo?” my husband asks.
NaNoWriMo 2019 will be my second month of writing 1,667 words a day. My username is still Crookham, if you’re also signed up for the challenge.
I suppose my husband, after a baby in 2017 and 2018, is ready for this temporary month of voluntary sleeplessness. He’s ready for my mind to be elsewhere, for my chores to slip, and to order takeaway because I forgot food existed.
At least I’ll have something more interesting to chat about than baby poop.
What I’ve learned since last NaNoWriMo is that a novel should really be at least 60,000 words for a traditional publisher. So I’m prepared to also spend some of December reaching that minimum.
This book is exciting to me because it has something in common with Gender Chasm- a divided nation. It will also showcase what I’ve learned about pregnancy and newborns while these things are still young in my mind.
Would you ever attempt NaNoWriMo?
Wish me luck,
Update: I have decided to postpone writing my novel in a month until January. Another writing opportunity came up, a fellow writer needed feedback, my workload increased… Mostly I felt unprepared to write and although I was willing to try “pantsing” and see what ideas popped into my writing, the idea of editing a book not based on an outline I could reference was too intimidating.
When I think about my decision, I don’t feel relieved of the creating because I know the stress of daily writing will happen in two months instead (although January does have a built in “cheat day” since there are 31). Instead, I feel relieved that I am going to work on a project with my level of quality structure from the beginning, rather than forcing in plot after the first draft. This is how I know it’s the right thing for me to do.
Ashley Crookham's Writing 