Rhymes with Camera: Mining Season
Getting lost and found in the rubble of the real world
I’m back in the mines again.
People may think that’s a terrible thing, but the fact is: I love the mines.
I have strange sort of a work ethic—I am driven to dig to unearth inspiration. Always have been. It’s what gets me out of bed in the morning (usually by mining my dream content).
That is a big part of my creative process after all, poking around in the dark to find what’s hidden. These are NOT salt mines (LOL). There are metaphoric crystals and phosphors in these mines begging discovery.
(Maybe it’s the reason why I’m so drawn to gardening, even. All that digging.)
Don’t mind me while I descend; it’s just my way. People who follow astrology might also nod at my stellia in Libra and Scorpio and chuckle, “That tracks.” Remember, I identify with Persephone… with one foot above, one foot below.
Shoulda seen it coming… PART 1
The autumn, my favorite season, has always been the harbinger of my annual journey into the creative underworld. This is not new.
While others get into Halloween, I think ahead of me to the several months of darkness that the PNW endures, almost half a year of shadows and clouds, fog and perpetual dusk, rain and damp. Sometimes I might be caught begging for snow because it brings with it a welcomed light and sense of hygge.
By the time the (useless) time change happens this November (tomorrow!), I’ll already be nestled in my cave, lighting the fireplace, spelunking for ideas, chipping away at inspirations, gathering materials for future projects.
It’s warm down here, more cozy than you might imagine. I sometimes imagine I’m on a journey to the center of the earth. (Without the literary catastrophe from that classic storyline, of course.)
Shoulda seen it coming… PART 2
This is where the actual catastrophe comes in.
Somehow, I knew as far back as July that I would get COVID after my trip to Chicago.
I mean, I didn’t try to get COVID: I masked during both travel days, used Covixyl, had my boosters well before.
Still. Not only did I awaken already sick the morning I awoke in my own bed, but I found out I had some abnormal test results for something else AND I needed to clean out my totaled car after last month’s double rear-end.
Things happen in threes, right?
And yes, the garden is still a wild mass of runaway fertility that begs reclamation. (I’m working on it… but progress is slow.)
Because of COVID, I missed 3 out of the 4 events of the only real book tour I had slated for Cul de Sac Stories... so I’m back to begging people to buy my book again, just like last time… which is more upsetting and disruptive than the fact the tomatoes and peppers still need picking and next year’s garlic needs planting.
One cannot plan for these things to happen, even if there’s some sort of nagging insight that tells you not to do them.
I mean, if I listened to every suspicion, I’d never leave my house.
Getting lost in the mines
Once I began to feel better, my outlook improved (no surprise there).
One of my goals was to pick up a challenge where I’d left off… the Fall 50 walking challenge (walk/hike 50 miles between Oct 1 and Nov 30).
I labeled my challenge Fall 150 because I can usually do 50 miles in just one month. My average is closer to 60-70 monthly, so I decided to stretch for a tidy 150 miles during this challenge period. COVID, of course, created a setback, so I may not quite make 150, but we’ll see how it goes. As of this printing, I’m at 41.5 miles for October, so I’ll make the Fall 50 goal, but maybe not the 150. We’ll see… you never know what will happen!
During one of my returns to the woods recently, I set out after 4pm for what I thought would be a two-mile hike at the Kitsap County Heritage Park trail system. At this hour, one can’t get much more in with the days getting shorter. But two miles would keep me on track.
I often struggle with this group of trails because there are so many winds and turns and very few of them are marked; even with a system map on my phone, I get turned around.
This is also an especially dense parcel, with a thick canopy; only one trail runs out in the open along the northern perimeter.
I made two mistakes that day:
not taking a fully charged phone with me
leaving my headlamp in my other coat
The sky was clear as I left, with clouds on the horizon, but I wasn’t too worried… I was only going to go for two miles using a basic loop I traced on the map at the trailhead. I even took a picture of it for a record in case I got lost. Hiking in the woods is better than walking out in the open, besides… the canopy keeps you pretty protected (in light rain, anyway).
There were so many mushrooms on this hike that I quickly ran out of phone battery taking photos. I was also listening to a fantastic astrology podcast, which also burns up battery.
When my phone died, I noted by my Omron watch that I’d already eaten up my two miles. Time to head back. But where the heck was I?
The only way out is through
The sky, in the meantime, had darked with clouds and while I was on the wide-open Power Line trail, I knew I needed to get back to my car before it got dark. The interior trails looping toward my destination began to grow murky with shadows. Without a phone and no headlamp, this was going to be sketchy mostly because I didn’t have a sense of how far I needed to go.
Finally I found a trail marker about 20 minutes in; it indicated that I’d found the main trail that led back to the parking lot, The Spine. But womp-womp, I still had two miles to go!
What? I hadn’t realized I’d gone that far off the loop. Fine, I grumbled, and I reentered the dark woods. That would be, probably, another 40 minutes. I could still see, but my thoughts went to hazards of hiking in the dark. I had concerns:
Somebody was waiting for me back home and I was going to be late.
The nearby golf course community recently clearcut about 75 acres, so a lot of the bear, bobcat, coyote, and cougar that once lived there have had to relocate. That means more critters in this trail system, and in this light, I’d have a hard time seeing them—or them, me—which could make for an unpleasant encounter.
It was getting dark enough that I thought I might actually lose the trail (which I did, briefly).
I might also trip and fall on tree roots or in ruts and hurt myself without enough light to see by.
Without any way to communicate (dead phone, remember?), I had to just shake off the first concern. Once I made it back to my car, I’d find a charger and make a call first thing.
The second concern I addressed by breathing loudly as I amped up my pace on the flats. Part of the challenge in hiking around here with wildies afoot is the sense you might surprise them. By breathing loudly and whistling, my goal was to make sure the critters heard or saw me coming well enough in advance to scramble off.
City folks think these animals are just waiting to pounce, but in actuality, they’re mostly afraid of humans or just want to avoid interactions with us.
As for the third and fourth concerns, as quickly as I wanted to outpace the dusk, there was no way for me to powerwalk the whole time, as the trails in this section are, in some parts, grooved into slopes or set into switchbacks. I just had to moderate accordingly.
The magic of the internal compass
Then I had an interesting encounter as I navigated the shadows.
It got really quiet. No birds, even, and a low misty fog began to drop into the lower canopy of the woods. It had this eldritch quality to it, like I might be visited upon by the fae if I lingered too long. Like there might be wicked music, the smell of mint and mushrooms…
Which sprung forth so many story ideas that I began to keep a tally in my head of things to write down once I got back to my car.
Please note, I knew I would get back to my car. The trail system is pretty self contained; even if I was lost, I only needed to keep walking. I just didn’t know how long it would take me, given the conditions.
Meanwhile I parsed out at every intersection which opening was a trail and which was a dead end or tangent at several unmarked spots. The only time I lost the trail, it was an easy enough diversion to reclaim the real path and involved a familiar landmark—a burnt out trunk from an old growth tree.
Finally, about half an hour later, I could hear the traffic from the road and knew I was approaching the parking lot.
When I got to my car (the loner in the lot, which was packed just two hours before), I was covered in sweat from the powerwalk stride I tried to use on the flats and all that loud breathing, which definitely stoked my engine. But I was also cold because of the damp fog, and my post-COVID lungs felt it.
I checked my watch once the Omron counter processed my data. I’d walked 6.7 miles!
Two days later, I ended up with a tiny bit of a head cold, which was probably my body purging the dregs of COVID during that last cleansing walk.
I also ended up understanding how that reckless walk put me in a different kind of above-ground mine, filled with shadows and haze, confusing directions… and yet, it’s a place I’m not particularly uncomfortable in anymore.
In fact, while I may not be fearless, I like living in the mysteries, don’t mind going where I haven’t been before, if it means learning or experiencing something new.
Sisyphus shrugs
These are the dark moments when creative folks like me remind ourselves why we do what we do.
It came to me quite clearly in October, while
watching social media fall apart in general (why even go there at all?)
sleeping through a week of COVID
witnessing the election season turn more bizarre at every bend
lamenting yet another hurricane blowing through the Gulf coast
glimpsing a major solar storm in my pajamas at 3 in the morning
getting caught in the woods at night without a light or a functional phone
that my goals as a creative person are not about
fame and fortune
pleasing the masses
being a commercial success
but about
capturing truth in beautiful, unusual prose that only I could write
mining the dark while casting my light upon it (because shadows can’t exist without light)
discovering the rich treasury of ideas I carry around with me
finding ways to experience and communicate wonder
Although, if I’m being honest, I really did wish the fae had shown up during that stroll through the misty dusk. Wouldn’t that have been something…
I write because I have something to say.
I have a particular way that I want to say it.
I can’t NOT say it.
So I will write until I cannot write.
Period.
Just create
Publishing is one way my words get out into the world, yes. I will always seek publication because I don’t write only for myself. Otherwise I would just keep journals and call it a day. And frankly, I don’t keep journals. (Not for writing. I don’t see the point.)
But the publishing industry is in a tailspin right now—has been for a good, long while—and all of that nonsense is far beyond my capacity as a writer—and an obscure one at that—to fix.
For me, 95 percent of my drive as a writer/storyteller is toward the creation of the message… the story… in the most powerful, and provocative way I can. I am so NOT into the capitalist dog-and-pony show that big business publishing demands from creatives.
But, but… “publishing is a business.”
Yes. So what? Let the publishers wear the suits, do the commutes, deal with the corporate headaches.
Those “serious” writers who bow down to the Amazon lords, who spend more time parsing Big Data spreadsheets than writing, who go on frenzied and mostly pointless agent side quests, spend countless dollars on “services” that don’t seem to move the sales needle, and whose “full time” seriousness is leading them to burnout and mental health nosedives? They can keep their marketing strategies… I have yet to see any of them figure out the secret sauce.
Do I care about publishing my books? Yes. I just won’t make publishing and selling them more important than the work that goes into them.
Digging deep
How does one sustain themselves as a writer in a world where publishing has lost its way?
I’m happy to be the miner, the blue illumination of screens
serving as a kind of head lamp while I pick my way, lost,
through tunnels of narrative rock and pan with my storyteller’s axe,
revealing occult gemstone ideas and raw crystalline metaphors
just waiting for me to tumble and polish into something worth reading.
This is the way, my friends, this is the way.
NOVEMBER: WHAT’S HAPPENING
Nov 5: Latest Beneath the Rain Shadow episode drops, with Clay on the hot seat for his story, “Faultine!” [link]
Nov 8-10: Port Gamble Ghost Conference author panel and HWA sales and signing table [link]
Nov 12: Intention Tremor’s 4th book birthday! [link]
Nov 21: Seattle Public Library horror writers event featuring Cascade Writers and the Seattle chapter of the HWA , 7-830p [link]
Nov 23: Kitsap county author reading with Tamara Kaye Sellman and Kat Richardson, Saltwater Books, Kingston, stay tuned for time (probably 5pm) [link]
Check out my detailed calendar
LINK LOVE
In case you missed it: Western SFA reviews Cul de Sac Stories! [link]
Beneath the Rain Shadow podcast
Jan: Meet Tamara & Clay
Feb: “Nurse Log” by Tamara Sellman
Mar: “Gåva” by Clay Vermulm
Apr: “Meow Meow” by Tamara Sellman
May: “Problem Child” by Clay Vermulm
Jun: “Hellmark” by Tamara Sellman
Jul: “The Mystical Menagerie” by Clay Vermulm
Aug: “Leave No Trace” by Tamara Sellman
Sept: “Welcome Aboard” by Clay Vermulm
Oct: “Shanghai” by Tamara Sellman
Nov: “Faultline” by Clay Vermulm
Find me in Social media [link]
SUBSTACK FINDS
Spooky Season Substack finds: Spooky Plants, Mother Rot, The Old Ways, Toil and Trouble [link]
OCTOBER UPDATES—THE SELLMAN SHELF
I just made updates that include Vancouver BC authors Rebecca Campbell and WP Kinsella, Portland authors Alexx Bollen and Jamie Duclos-Yourdon, and Seattle authors Ruth Joffre and Rebecca Serle. Go check out their books!
HI-VIBE FRIDAY
With so much happening in the world, we all just need a link-love break, y’know?
Oct 25: “Hiking Trails in the Middle of the Burbs, Unusual Crystals, The Cycle of Life, Hygge, Naturally Spooky Settings” [link]
Nov 1: “Apples, Herbs, Dreamscapes, Skeletons, Cemetery Walks” [link]
CHICAGO GALLERY
Chicago River Architectural Tour, October 2024
CENTER
The Chicago Skyline at the mouth of the Chicago River
TOP LEFT, THEN CLOCKWISE
The beginnings of Riverwalk from the Water Street Bridge
The Chicago River confluence at three points looking east
John Ivory telling great stories about the history of these buildings (I learned so much!)
Kayaker underneath the LaSalle Street bridge in late afternoon
Chicago's iconic twin towers at Marina City
Mural details along Riverwalk
Window washers on the Sears Tower
The river looking north from Jackson Street
Details along a west-side river residence
The Brutalist River City building
I just received a third 5-star review from an actual reader of my book and I'm over the moon!
You must know that a lot of reviews you read on Amazon are paid for. But mine are not. These are real readers who posted real opinions.
I'm sharing them here to do a couple of things:
Inspire you to buy the book! Please do, I didn't write it just for myself!
Inspire you to write a review, if you've already read my book. You cannot know how critical it is for obscur-ish authors like myself to glean positive reviews in Amazon and other places. It really doesn't even matter if you like Amazon, the fact is that others will go first to Amazon to find their next reads and positive reviews boost my book's visibility in a very overcrowded space.
Thank you for your support, it makes me want to keep writing!
Show your support!
Follow me in Amazon! I promise you won't be spammed, they only ping you if there's a big update on my page (price, availability, new books)
Have you already read Cul de Sac Stories? Did you enjoy it? Review it on Amazon!
Need an ebook version? Buy Cul de Sac Stories in ebook version.
It’s a short Substack this month. Traveling and getting COVID can do a number on all your best laid plans, right? That’s okay, I’ve much to be grateful for and really settling into this cozy season. I also made my peace with the trail that almost ate me last week… I’ve been there twice and didn’t get lost either time!
I also brought a new car into the household: a Jeep Compass.
Still looking for a name, but I’m thinking about Axolotl (Ax for short) because these unusual beasts are white, they can regenerate, there’s that awesome story by Julio Cortazar about them that I’ll never forget, and they always seem to be smiling!
Happy November!
Tamara
