Can you believe it's already May? Gosh, summer is literally around the corner and I barely remember winter. Okay, maybe I won't go that far. Winter seemed to last a long, long time. But time has flown. The new job is absolutely fantastic. I get to impact people's lives daily in a positive way. I go to bed exhausted at night, which is why I've been the amazing disappearing woman as of late. The plus side is that I've been writing. Yes, I've still got about three chapters left to write, but I'm paring down the page count. I'm heading into one of the final action scenes, and I think I may get to write another wedding. Who knows? The characters are keeping mum.
When I'm not working or writing, I spend my spare time unpacking boxes. You know, one never knows how much stuff one's managed to accumulate until the unpacking begins. Dude! I swear, my California is leaking. The good news is my kitchen is totally organized, the kids' rooms are finished and the living room is great. The room that houses my dragons, like my bedroom is a work in progress. It could be worse. I could still be looking at wall-to-wall boxes. There's something about having a place to call home. Knowing that when I leave work, I'm going to a place where comfort awaits. I feel so blessed--tired, but blessed. While my eyes are open, I'm going to lay pen to paper. Book four is screaming to be written, and I won't do it 'til three is done. Time to get this dog and pony show on the road.
Am I the only person who finds the end of a story difficult to write? I'm like this when I read too. I hate to reach the end because I'm losing my friends. What do you do to cure the end-of-story blues?
01 May 2007
20 April 2007
When I grow up...
Every now and again, I wonder who I'll be when I grow up. I know who I am at the core, but seeing into the future is a tad difficult for me. My crystal ball is in the shop. At any rate, I think about all the opportunity skimming my extremities. If you stop for a minute and just feel what's around you, you'll notice it too. In every direction, jutting from our bodies, is the chance to impact the world. Now I'm not saying all the choices are right, or even where we should go, but they are there.
Maybe I can blame Pay It Forward for this new round of soul searching. But it's not the only book that's made me step back and analyze my purpose. It's right up there with Paulo Cohelho's The Alchemist. That book was introduced to me by an old chum. She told me it was good and that it presented something new with each re-read. So I read it. On a plane to England. And I felt as though I'd been kicked in the gut. In a good way, if that's possible. Now, it's a book I give to people. Mostly people I see on the crux of a life change, or at the very least, people who will appreciate it. Please, please, if you haven't read this book, find it. I could have kicked myself for reading it in a public place. That was years ago, and apparently, I haven't learned much since then. I had to hold my eyes wide open so the tears wouldn't spill all over my blouse.
Every time I open The Alchemist, there is a new message. I have to wonder if the reason it touches me so is because I haven't done the one thing I need to do. I am reminded that my journey, including the pain that tags along, is not all about me. Most of the time it is, but sometimes, those lessons are opportunities for others to learn how to respond to what seems negative. Kind of like Mitch Albom's Five People You Meet In Heaven. Another keeper. Another dear, dear friend told me I had to read it. Because she's not a reader, I knew it had to be a stunning book. She was so right. She told me to read it at a time when I was asking why a lot. I was in a bad place. One where almost nothing made sense. And I was whining big time. This good friend told me, "Sometimes, it's not about you." Now, if you knew her, and could hear her matter-of-fact way of speaking, you might think she was a little harsh. No way. She told me the truth. Exactly what I needed to hear in that instance, and I am SO grateful that she loves me enough to tell me the truth. I read the book. Why do the great ones always reduce me to tears?
Each of these books has served to remind me how much of an impact the small deeds can have on our world. They make me feel capable of creating change, yet at the same time, they make me feel inadequate. For all the times I forget to do the small things for my fellow man, for all the times I set a bad example for my little people instead of a great one because sometimes, slacking off is so much easier, for all the times I complain about things that seem wrong in my life. It would also be so easy to revel in abject failure. After all, each of the heroes in the book did something--well, heroic! I don't do anything heroic. Not to me, anyway. Do you remember that movie, While You Were Sleeping? One of my favorite lines was the one Sandra Bullock's character delivered to Peter Gallagher's character. "It is to the person who sits in it."
It is the small things that make the biggest difference. Even something as simple as giving up my seat to someone who could better use it. So while those books sufficiently put me in my place, they also offer hope. Each of the protagonists were normal people, just like me. With normal problems, just like me. And they made mistakes--like I do. So who do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be the one who writes those books. The ones that make your face fight between laughter and tears.
I've got a long, winding road ahead...
Maybe I can blame Pay It Forward for this new round of soul searching. But it's not the only book that's made me step back and analyze my purpose. It's right up there with Paulo Cohelho's The Alchemist. That book was introduced to me by an old chum. She told me it was good and that it presented something new with each re-read. So I read it. On a plane to England. And I felt as though I'd been kicked in the gut. In a good way, if that's possible. Now, it's a book I give to people. Mostly people I see on the crux of a life change, or at the very least, people who will appreciate it. Please, please, if you haven't read this book, find it. I could have kicked myself for reading it in a public place. That was years ago, and apparently, I haven't learned much since then. I had to hold my eyes wide open so the tears wouldn't spill all over my blouse.
Every time I open The Alchemist, there is a new message. I have to wonder if the reason it touches me so is because I haven't done the one thing I need to do. I am reminded that my journey, including the pain that tags along, is not all about me. Most of the time it is, but sometimes, those lessons are opportunities for others to learn how to respond to what seems negative. Kind of like Mitch Albom's Five People You Meet In Heaven. Another keeper. Another dear, dear friend told me I had to read it. Because she's not a reader, I knew it had to be a stunning book. She was so right. She told me to read it at a time when I was asking why a lot. I was in a bad place. One where almost nothing made sense. And I was whining big time. This good friend told me, "Sometimes, it's not about you." Now, if you knew her, and could hear her matter-of-fact way of speaking, you might think she was a little harsh. No way. She told me the truth. Exactly what I needed to hear in that instance, and I am SO grateful that she loves me enough to tell me the truth. I read the book. Why do the great ones always reduce me to tears?
Each of these books has served to remind me how much of an impact the small deeds can have on our world. They make me feel capable of creating change, yet at the same time, they make me feel inadequate. For all the times I forget to do the small things for my fellow man, for all the times I set a bad example for my little people instead of a great one because sometimes, slacking off is so much easier, for all the times I complain about things that seem wrong in my life. It would also be so easy to revel in abject failure. After all, each of the heroes in the book did something--well, heroic! I don't do anything heroic. Not to me, anyway. Do you remember that movie, While You Were Sleeping? One of my favorite lines was the one Sandra Bullock's character delivered to Peter Gallagher's character. "It is to the person who sits in it."
It is the small things that make the biggest difference. Even something as simple as giving up my seat to someone who could better use it. So while those books sufficiently put me in my place, they also offer hope. Each of the protagonists were normal people, just like me. With normal problems, just like me. And they made mistakes--like I do. So who do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be the one who writes those books. The ones that make your face fight between laughter and tears.
I've got a long, winding road ahead...
16 April 2007
More on the horizon...
This is short. My apologies, dear friends. I'm in the middle of a GREAT book. You all have probably read it, so please pardon my exuberance. Pay It Forward by Catherine Ryan Hyde. Julie, if you didn't get to meet her last year, look out for her this year at the conference. I think she's teaching a course. I wouldn't have to think if I actually looked, but hey, I'm only human. Anyway, if you haven't read this book, stop what you're doing and find a copy. Okay, you're allowed to sleep and stuff, but this is a must read. Before you ask, I've never seen the movie. At this point, I doubt I will, but Ms. Hyde can tell a story so compelling I don't need to see it played out in film. If the cyber gods are generous, I'll do a review here. Crossing my fingers that it doesn't get eaten.
So, what have you read lately? Have you read Pay It Forward, and if so, what did you think?
So, what have you read lately? Have you read Pay It Forward, and if so, what did you think?
13 April 2007
Happy Friday... and I'm not just saying that!
Okay, you all gave me great advice on the toxic person I was dealing with so at the very least, I owe you an update. Do I still think she's a bit of a wasteland? Sadly, yes. However, my group and I decided to give it another go. As hard as all of us try to be, not one of us could let her fall into an abyss--at least not without offering a hand up and out. We invited her to a study group because it was more than apparent that she felt insecure with the material we learned in class. Included in the study was an informal dinner. Nothing washes down stress like a good meal. Plus, if you're mouth's full, you can't say anything hurtful. See, we're smarter than we look.
Anyway, we all made it our duty to make her feel welcome and let her know that the rest of her experience was her choice. Before this lovely dinner, we surrounded her with positivity at lunch. Literally. Each of us discussed our own failings and personality quirks so no one felt singled out, and we worked on quality fixes for those little idiosyncrasies. Honestly, I wasn't looking for a solution to my hot-temperedness or snarkiness. I like those parts of me just fine, and until they stop serving me, I'll wear them like a cheap fur coat. The "take-away" from our lunch and dinner was the power of positivity.
Cross my heart, I'm not a happiness guru. I believe we create our realities. And in the face of fierce positive energy, this woman could not be negative. She was cooperative and didn't try to bulldoze us with stories of superiority. We all put away our ill feelings too, which was again, powerful! All of this happened because each of us made a choice. That is a power each of us possesses. To choose to succeed or fail, to choose to love or hate, to choose to make the world a better place, or to be a rabid consumer, sucking away at the good things that are waiting a simple choice beyond our grasp.
Anyway, we all made it our duty to make her feel welcome and let her know that the rest of her experience was her choice. Before this lovely dinner, we surrounded her with positivity at lunch. Literally. Each of us discussed our own failings and personality quirks so no one felt singled out, and we worked on quality fixes for those little idiosyncrasies. Honestly, I wasn't looking for a solution to my hot-temperedness or snarkiness. I like those parts of me just fine, and until they stop serving me, I'll wear them like a cheap fur coat. The "take-away" from our lunch and dinner was the power of positivity.
Cross my heart, I'm not a happiness guru. I believe we create our realities. And in the face of fierce positive energy, this woman could not be negative. She was cooperative and didn't try to bulldoze us with stories of superiority. We all put away our ill feelings too, which was again, powerful! All of this happened because each of us made a choice. That is a power each of us possesses. To choose to succeed or fail, to choose to love or hate, to choose to make the world a better place, or to be a rabid consumer, sucking away at the good things that are waiting a simple choice beyond our grasp.
09 April 2007
Alrighty then!
Life is still on the fast forward track in my neck of the woods. This is my second week of training at the new job, and while I'm nervous about the amount of information being thrown at me, I'm excited. It seems like those two emotions should be polar opposites, or at least not manifest in equal amounts, but in this case, neither is true. Okay, so maybe I'm more excited than nervous, but the anxiety is still there. That's new for me.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I jump into my decisions with both feet. Deep water? That's okay because I'll learn to swim that much quicker. I don't know that the water could get much deeper. Some wise person once said, "When it rains, it pours." Most of the time, I see that handy adage applied to negative situations. Not so in my situation. I'll give you a quick rundown, and you can be the judge.
We moved from an undisclosed location to a disclosed location. My husband and I went from being employed to being job-searching fiends. I got a job, DH is still looking. The kids are in school. I've become reacquainted with the in-laws. Sooner than I knew it, my job sent me away for training. So now I'm away from home--aka my home on wheels. Funny aside. A home on wheels grows smaller the longer you live in it--especially if you're talking about living with four other people and all of their things.
Dude! No one tells you this stuff! So I thought I should be a font of information--just in case you ever wondered. So it won't be a Jeopardy question, but hey, I'm working with what I've got here. Anyway, the smaller the palace on wheels got, the more interested DH and I became in finding a home that was a bit more permanent. Preferably one with a basement and a full kitchen. We browsed the MLS listings in the area for the "perfect" place. And finally, when life got super busy, the perfect place found us.
Is it wrong to fall in love with an inanimate object? If it is, sign me up for Kitchen Lovers Anonymous. This is the largest kitchen I've had--ever. And soon, very soon, it will be mine. After living in a travel trailer, almost any home would feel like a palace, but this place is everything DH and I wanted. He had the onerous task of making the final decision because I've been away for work. Every time he asked if he was doing the right thing, I let him know that he would make the right decision. I trust him. Not just because there will be hell to pay if he does the wrong thing. No doubt, there always is when he crosses the wrong line. But in this situation, he had an interest in choosing a home that would be a haven for all of us when we need a retreat from the cruel world. I've told him and I'll tell you too, he did a damn good job.
On more creative fronts, I've not written much lately. Last night, I did two pages, which were fun. It's amazing when I know my characters how well I can write. They let me jump into their heads and roam around. I don't know the ending yet, other than it will be a happy one. Isn't that what people read romance for? I will write for a bit before bed and then wake, ready for a new day of learning. Only a few days to go, and I'm already sad to leave behind the wonderful folks I've met here. That's what email is for, I guess.
I'm still waiting to hear on a couple queries I sent off before the move, and the one I mailed since living here. Yes, I'd love to have someone say yes, you must sign up now. But right now, I just want to know that my work was reviewed. I am quickly reaching the ten-week mark on the first two and am getting nervous. What if they hate my work or think I'm a newbie who has no clue about the market or what makes good fiction? If that's the case, I'll have to cross those agents off the list and move to the next. But I really, really don't want to do that. I want to hear yes, so until I do, no news is good news.
Today I got a view of what I don't want to be when I grow up. I've heard that we don't like qualities in others that we detest in ourselves. Since I agree with that, at least 99% of the time, it makes me really wonder what or who people see when they look at me. I met this person who has one of the ugliest spirits I've seen in anyone in a long time. She is rude, self-centered and generally frustrating to be around. When I do spend time with her, I feel as though I have to be on guard for some sort of personal attack. Not that she strikes out at me directly. No, she's one of those who spreads the wealth. It's just that she's not the sort of person one feels safe around.
In my heart of hearts I don't believe that she is a terrible person. In fact, she seems deeply wounded. Her actions and words scream that she is someone who has suffered tremendous hurt. Yet, I'm having the most difficult time seeing past the surface ugliness to get to who she truly is. There was a time when I would work until that nugget of coal produced the diamond. Now, I almost can't be bothered. I know this woman wouldn't have been placed in my life if we weren't to have an impact on each other, but I'm still asking why. In the spirit of gratefulness, I'm going to thank God that I've been allowed to see what I can. In the meantime, I'm desperately seeking perspective.
So, for my dear beloved readers, what do you do when confronted with a difficult person? If your prior coping methods weren't effective, what do you think you could do better?
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I jump into my decisions with both feet. Deep water? That's okay because I'll learn to swim that much quicker. I don't know that the water could get much deeper. Some wise person once said, "When it rains, it pours." Most of the time, I see that handy adage applied to negative situations. Not so in my situation. I'll give you a quick rundown, and you can be the judge.
We moved from an undisclosed location to a disclosed location. My husband and I went from being employed to being job-searching fiends. I got a job, DH is still looking. The kids are in school. I've become reacquainted with the in-laws. Sooner than I knew it, my job sent me away for training. So now I'm away from home--aka my home on wheels. Funny aside. A home on wheels grows smaller the longer you live in it--especially if you're talking about living with four other people and all of their things.
Dude! No one tells you this stuff! So I thought I should be a font of information--just in case you ever wondered. So it won't be a Jeopardy question, but hey, I'm working with what I've got here. Anyway, the smaller the palace on wheels got, the more interested DH and I became in finding a home that was a bit more permanent. Preferably one with a basement and a full kitchen. We browsed the MLS listings in the area for the "perfect" place. And finally, when life got super busy, the perfect place found us.
Is it wrong to fall in love with an inanimate object? If it is, sign me up for Kitchen Lovers Anonymous. This is the largest kitchen I've had--ever. And soon, very soon, it will be mine. After living in a travel trailer, almost any home would feel like a palace, but this place is everything DH and I wanted. He had the onerous task of making the final decision because I've been away for work. Every time he asked if he was doing the right thing, I let him know that he would make the right decision. I trust him. Not just because there will be hell to pay if he does the wrong thing. No doubt, there always is when he crosses the wrong line. But in this situation, he had an interest in choosing a home that would be a haven for all of us when we need a retreat from the cruel world. I've told him and I'll tell you too, he did a damn good job.
On more creative fronts, I've not written much lately. Last night, I did two pages, which were fun. It's amazing when I know my characters how well I can write. They let me jump into their heads and roam around. I don't know the ending yet, other than it will be a happy one. Isn't that what people read romance for? I will write for a bit before bed and then wake, ready for a new day of learning. Only a few days to go, and I'm already sad to leave behind the wonderful folks I've met here. That's what email is for, I guess.
I'm still waiting to hear on a couple queries I sent off before the move, and the one I mailed since living here. Yes, I'd love to have someone say yes, you must sign up now. But right now, I just want to know that my work was reviewed. I am quickly reaching the ten-week mark on the first two and am getting nervous. What if they hate my work or think I'm a newbie who has no clue about the market or what makes good fiction? If that's the case, I'll have to cross those agents off the list and move to the next. But I really, really don't want to do that. I want to hear yes, so until I do, no news is good news.
Today I got a view of what I don't want to be when I grow up. I've heard that we don't like qualities in others that we detest in ourselves. Since I agree with that, at least 99% of the time, it makes me really wonder what or who people see when they look at me. I met this person who has one of the ugliest spirits I've seen in anyone in a long time. She is rude, self-centered and generally frustrating to be around. When I do spend time with her, I feel as though I have to be on guard for some sort of personal attack. Not that she strikes out at me directly. No, she's one of those who spreads the wealth. It's just that she's not the sort of person one feels safe around.
In my heart of hearts I don't believe that she is a terrible person. In fact, she seems deeply wounded. Her actions and words scream that she is someone who has suffered tremendous hurt. Yet, I'm having the most difficult time seeing past the surface ugliness to get to who she truly is. There was a time when I would work until that nugget of coal produced the diamond. Now, I almost can't be bothered. I know this woman wouldn't have been placed in my life if we weren't to have an impact on each other, but I'm still asking why. In the spirit of gratefulness, I'm going to thank God that I've been allowed to see what I can. In the meantime, I'm desperately seeking perspective.
So, for my dear beloved readers, what do you do when confronted with a difficult person? If your prior coping methods weren't effective, what do you think you could do better?
29 March 2007
Who put the day on fast forward???
I woke up this morning. That much I remember. I'm in bed now, typing away at laptop central. Pretty sure of that too. The rest of the day is a blur. One minute I was cruising a thrift store and sucking down Jamba Juice's new All Fruit Pomegranate smoothie. Yum-o, by the way! The next, I was cruising between dryers at the laundromat and folding clothes. How did it all happen? What did I actually do? Maybe the body snatchers finally laid claim to the time I owe them. All I know is that I'm dead dog tired and feeling like a wimp. Used to be I could stay up all hours of the night, writing on my manuscript while my coffee IV kept me humming. Now, I'm begging my body for one more hour, just like a child trying to get a bedtime extension. So I want to know. Who put fresh batteries in the remote and left the forward frame button mashed in?
Only a couple days before I head to Denver on life adventure #5693. Nah, I don't really have them numbered, but it sounded fun. Would that number make me boring or exciting? Denver means packing, which means I have to empty my garment bag of undies (you didn't think I was kidding all those days ago, did you?) and fill it with business attire. Sayonara jeans, hello slacks and skirts...and pantyhose. I can't wait! I've been feeling entirely too casual lately, so it's time to shake things up. My aim is to be really rebellious and run in the mornings before training. Guess that means I get to keep the Pullman of shoes.
Sunday, we are going to the FIL's house for Easter dinner. I know it's not Easter yet, but this is one of the byproducts of divorce--split holidays. He loves to cook. The kids have a blast. This will be the first time I've seen all the grandkids at his house. Should be interesting. Usually we're all at my MIL's house. I'm sure my step-MIL will keep everyone in line. They are typical grandparents. We wash up before and after meals, we use proper table manners and we walk in the house. Meanwhile, grandma and grandpa sneak the kids cookies and sodas, but that's what grandparents are for. I've heard reports that my kids have told the GP's that they shouldn't have any sweets before eating their veggies. I still beam with pride. If nothing else, I've taught my kids the value of green.
Sunday could be heaven or hell. Nine grandkids and three Scottie dogs could put a hitch in the normal order. Is it wrong that I'm enjoying an internal giggle over this? I know after I hang out with my little entourage and my nephews and nieces, I am wiped out. Mostly, I've learned to tune them all out. If no one's bleeding, crying or dying, everything's fine. And if all else fails, I can make an escape.
Only a couple days before I head to Denver on life adventure #5693. Nah, I don't really have them numbered, but it sounded fun. Would that number make me boring or exciting? Denver means packing, which means I have to empty my garment bag of undies (you didn't think I was kidding all those days ago, did you?) and fill it with business attire. Sayonara jeans, hello slacks and skirts...and pantyhose. I can't wait! I've been feeling entirely too casual lately, so it's time to shake things up. My aim is to be really rebellious and run in the mornings before training. Guess that means I get to keep the Pullman of shoes.
Sunday, we are going to the FIL's house for Easter dinner. I know it's not Easter yet, but this is one of the byproducts of divorce--split holidays. He loves to cook. The kids have a blast. This will be the first time I've seen all the grandkids at his house. Should be interesting. Usually we're all at my MIL's house. I'm sure my step-MIL will keep everyone in line. They are typical grandparents. We wash up before and after meals, we use proper table manners and we walk in the house. Meanwhile, grandma and grandpa sneak the kids cookies and sodas, but that's what grandparents are for. I've heard reports that my kids have told the GP's that they shouldn't have any sweets before eating their veggies. I still beam with pride. If nothing else, I've taught my kids the value of green.
Sunday could be heaven or hell. Nine grandkids and three Scottie dogs could put a hitch in the normal order. Is it wrong that I'm enjoying an internal giggle over this? I know after I hang out with my little entourage and my nephews and nieces, I am wiped out. Mostly, I've learned to tune them all out. If no one's bleeding, crying or dying, everything's fine. And if all else fails, I can make an escape.
27 March 2007
What a difference a day makes!
Today I went on the walk I've been meaning to take for a week. My brain finally shut down, refusing to do any more until I kept my side of our little bargain. So off I went. The park is gorgeous--complete with a pond, geese, playground, heck, they even had a horseshoe pit. Lots of folks were out today, playing with their little ones, strolling like me and playing Frisbee with their pooches. Now, I have to tell you the weather wasn't all that great. In fact, I fully expected to be drenched, but I went anyway. Turns out all that got wet was my shirt from all the sweat I managed to work up.
My goal was to push through some of the crap in my head so I could function. I was stressed out about finding a job, worrying about my characters and about the example I'm setting for my kids. I told myself I would walk until I had clarity on all the above. Bet you're surprised I made it home before dark! My first lap I allowed myself to observe my surroundings. One of the first things I noticed was how grumpy the other walkers looked, and couldn't understand why. Who knows, maybe I looked grumpy too, but I didn't feel it. I was lost in thought for a good part of the walk, but no matter how many ugly thoughts popped up, there were always two or three wonderful ones that followed. Consequently, I couldn't fight the smile that kept tugging at my mouth. I mean really, when you eat everyday, have a place to live and a family who believes the best of you, what is there to be depressed about? I am so blessed!
When we embarked on this adventure--moving to Colorado, trust me, I've edited all the gory details out, I told myself we would be fine. I'm really good at pushing small, negative details out of mind when I need to. And that's what I did. After the job hunting commenced, I started getting a little discouraged. As a writer, rejection is as much a part of life as hours at the keyboard. For some reason though, not getting major bites on the job front felt like a rejection from the human race. I like to work. I worked for my education and I know what I'm capable of. I started wondering what I did wrong to be where I am. I worried about how I was going to care for my children and seriously entertained the idea that I was the butt of some cosmic joke. All the time, though, I kept up my positive face. Like putting on your good clothes and a touch of makeup can make you feel more together, the upbeat facade was healing. So maybe it was like putting a little band-aid on a big wound, but at least it kept some of the filth out. Still, the ugly thoughts would worm their way in and I needed more to maintain a good attitude.
I decided to control the things I could. Good ole Serenity Prayer. I went to Wild Oats and bought some good-for-me food. On the way out of the store, I grabbed one of the free magazines on the shelf. I didn't read it right away. It actually sat in my car for a few days, untouched except for when someone needed to sit on the passenger seat. One day, DH and I planned to shop and I had to wait in the car for him to get ready. I swear he takes more time than me to get gussied up! Anyway, I read the magazine. Some of it was interesting, but one article stood out. It was about cultivating an attitude of gratefulness. I like to think that I do that consistently, but it was such a timely reminder. So I wake, thankful for a new day, for my family and friends who love me. I go to bed, thankful that I'm not outside seeking shelter in a doorway. Some days it's hard to remember to do it--to find that one thing to be grateful for when the world seems shrouded in crap, but I do it. Because that is something I can control--my attitude.
There's an old saying: your attitude determines your altitude. Ten points if you can tell me where it comes from. It's true. How can I believe anything else when I've seen the truth in that statement time and time again? Yesterday, I was unemployed. Today, that is no longer the truth. Maybe I would have secured the job anyway, but I believe being open to thankfulness connected me to the opportunity. There's a lot of crap in the world, and it sucks to wade through it all, but there's a lot of good too. What would happen if we all decided to control what was in our power? What would happen if we truly decided to become the change we want to see in our world? What would happen if we just said thank you when we open our eyes in the morning and before we shut them at night?
My goal was to push through some of the crap in my head so I could function. I was stressed out about finding a job, worrying about my characters and about the example I'm setting for my kids. I told myself I would walk until I had clarity on all the above. Bet you're surprised I made it home before dark! My first lap I allowed myself to observe my surroundings. One of the first things I noticed was how grumpy the other walkers looked, and couldn't understand why. Who knows, maybe I looked grumpy too, but I didn't feel it. I was lost in thought for a good part of the walk, but no matter how many ugly thoughts popped up, there were always two or three wonderful ones that followed. Consequently, I couldn't fight the smile that kept tugging at my mouth. I mean really, when you eat everyday, have a place to live and a family who believes the best of you, what is there to be depressed about? I am so blessed!
When we embarked on this adventure--moving to Colorado, trust me, I've edited all the gory details out, I told myself we would be fine. I'm really good at pushing small, negative details out of mind when I need to. And that's what I did. After the job hunting commenced, I started getting a little discouraged. As a writer, rejection is as much a part of life as hours at the keyboard. For some reason though, not getting major bites on the job front felt like a rejection from the human race. I like to work. I worked for my education and I know what I'm capable of. I started wondering what I did wrong to be where I am. I worried about how I was going to care for my children and seriously entertained the idea that I was the butt of some cosmic joke. All the time, though, I kept up my positive face. Like putting on your good clothes and a touch of makeup can make you feel more together, the upbeat facade was healing. So maybe it was like putting a little band-aid on a big wound, but at least it kept some of the filth out. Still, the ugly thoughts would worm their way in and I needed more to maintain a good attitude.
I decided to control the things I could. Good ole Serenity Prayer. I went to Wild Oats and bought some good-for-me food. On the way out of the store, I grabbed one of the free magazines on the shelf. I didn't read it right away. It actually sat in my car for a few days, untouched except for when someone needed to sit on the passenger seat. One day, DH and I planned to shop and I had to wait in the car for him to get ready. I swear he takes more time than me to get gussied up! Anyway, I read the magazine. Some of it was interesting, but one article stood out. It was about cultivating an attitude of gratefulness. I like to think that I do that consistently, but it was such a timely reminder. So I wake, thankful for a new day, for my family and friends who love me. I go to bed, thankful that I'm not outside seeking shelter in a doorway. Some days it's hard to remember to do it--to find that one thing to be grateful for when the world seems shrouded in crap, but I do it. Because that is something I can control--my attitude.
There's an old saying: your attitude determines your altitude. Ten points if you can tell me where it comes from. It's true. How can I believe anything else when I've seen the truth in that statement time and time again? Yesterday, I was unemployed. Today, that is no longer the truth. Maybe I would have secured the job anyway, but I believe being open to thankfulness connected me to the opportunity. There's a lot of crap in the world, and it sucks to wade through it all, but there's a lot of good too. What would happen if we all decided to control what was in our power? What would happen if we truly decided to become the change we want to see in our world? What would happen if we just said thank you when we open our eyes in the morning and before we shut them at night?
26 March 2007
Slaying time...
More like wasting time. I've been playing the good auntie for the past few days. It was fun, but I forgot how exhausting it can be to hang out with kids who aren't mine. The kids were all great, but I am so boring that I wonder how my own children survive with me. We don't watch much TV during the week--Spring Break or no. I don't let them play video games for more than an hour, and that's only once every couple of months. So what do we do? We read, play outside or just hang out. In between we have meals where we again, sit together and share our day's events. See, not much happening. I was so looking forward to sleeping in today. My body and mind are exhausted from being chipper and hopeful.
It would be so easy to just be a pessimist. No energy to expend that way. Being positive is exercise. I will myself to see the silver lining on each cloud. I write when it would be easier to pretend I'd never heard of my characters. And constantly, I wear a smile for my babies because they deserve a smooth, drama free time. They didn't ask to be born, and I refuse to make their lives hell on earth. Tonight, I am going to spend some real time with my family. Who knows what we'll get up to, but it will be interesting.
Later, my characters and I will have a meeting of the minds. I've written myself into a neat little corner. I made one of my characters cry and can't remember why I did it. That's what I get for stopping in the middle of a scene. I re-read choice bits of the story this afternoon to reacquaint myself with the characters and the action. I like these people. If only I could remember why I made Katt cry.
Okay, the movie's on--Clue. Cult classic and one of my all time faves. This is what I'll call beta viewing. Catch you tomorrow folks. Same bat time, same bat channel.
It would be so easy to just be a pessimist. No energy to expend that way. Being positive is exercise. I will myself to see the silver lining on each cloud. I write when it would be easier to pretend I'd never heard of my characters. And constantly, I wear a smile for my babies because they deserve a smooth, drama free time. They didn't ask to be born, and I refuse to make their lives hell on earth. Tonight, I am going to spend some real time with my family. Who knows what we'll get up to, but it will be interesting.
Later, my characters and I will have a meeting of the minds. I've written myself into a neat little corner. I made one of my characters cry and can't remember why I did it. That's what I get for stopping in the middle of a scene. I re-read choice bits of the story this afternoon to reacquaint myself with the characters and the action. I like these people. If only I could remember why I made Katt cry.
Okay, the movie's on--Clue. Cult classic and one of my all time faves. This is what I'll call beta viewing. Catch you tomorrow folks. Same bat time, same bat channel.
23 March 2007
Catching Up...
So, what have I been up to for the past week? Job stalking, reading, cooking, cleaning. All normal stuff. Of course, I've spent a huge amount of time at the local library. It's a great place to escape--quiet, full of books. What else could a girl want?
Lately, I've been waking early--earlier than normal. Some of it's stress. Yes, dear friends, I'm admitting it out loud. There are chinks in my armour. Some of my early bird rising is because I've been reading fab books and couldn't wait another minute to finish the story. Then, there's always the fact that I'm wired to wake with the sun. When I lived in Alaska, I didn't really sleep in the summer. I just sort of paused and then did everything all over again. Man, I miss that place. For those who've never been, that's a do-before-you-die sort of thing. And do it in the winter! The snow sparkles, the Northern Lights twist in a ribbon dance across the sky, and you can taste the quiet. I didn't mean for this to become an ode to Alaska. It's just one of the few places in my life that's felt like home.
Home. Amazing how trite it sounds 'til you're searching for one. I've developed too-late syndrome. I fall in love with a house too late. Someone's already snagged it and I have to move on. I just remind myself that if it were perfect for me and mine, I'd have it. There are no coinky-dinks, which means perfection looms around the corner. Sounds scary. Even scarier is the thought that I'll have to unpack all my crap and find (you guessed it) the perfect place for it.
The point in my urge to blog today was to share some of the amazing books I've read. Once I had that library card in my hot little hand, there was nothing stopping me. I checked out Plum Lovin' and Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich. I laughed, and then felt sad when the adventure was over. Typical me. Good thing book 13 is around the corner. Next, I read Terry Goodkind's Phantom. Now, I used to be a bit obsessed with his books. Love the philosophy, though the author says it's not a purposeful injection. In my mind, this goes back to all fiction having some autobiographical roots. We can't help put that little slice of self into our work, and I'm glad. Otherwise I might have missed out on so many amazing thinkers.
I read through Phantom like it was my life source. I'd waited too long between books, you see. Plus, when it came out, I misunderstood that this was to be the last in The Sword of Truth series. I've never been so glad to be wrong. As I neared the end, I kept saying to myself, "There's no way he's going to be able to tie up all these loose ends. There are too few pages and too much stuff that has to happen." I was right. Guess it's good for me that he has the other book coming out this fall. I love the world he constructed, the characters, the conflict and the fact that it is more broad than the typical man-and-his-journey story. The appeal for me is that the characters are not unlike me--even though in their world magic is as real as the air they breathe. If you haven't read these books, please do.
Lately, I've been waking early--earlier than normal. Some of it's stress. Yes, dear friends, I'm admitting it out loud. There are chinks in my armour. Some of my early bird rising is because I've been reading fab books and couldn't wait another minute to finish the story. Then, there's always the fact that I'm wired to wake with the sun. When I lived in Alaska, I didn't really sleep in the summer. I just sort of paused and then did everything all over again. Man, I miss that place. For those who've never been, that's a do-before-you-die sort of thing. And do it in the winter! The snow sparkles, the Northern Lights twist in a ribbon dance across the sky, and you can taste the quiet. I didn't mean for this to become an ode to Alaska. It's just one of the few places in my life that's felt like home.
Home. Amazing how trite it sounds 'til you're searching for one. I've developed too-late syndrome. I fall in love with a house too late. Someone's already snagged it and I have to move on. I just remind myself that if it were perfect for me and mine, I'd have it. There are no coinky-dinks, which means perfection looms around the corner. Sounds scary. Even scarier is the thought that I'll have to unpack all my crap and find (you guessed it) the perfect place for it.
The point in my urge to blog today was to share some of the amazing books I've read. Once I had that library card in my hot little hand, there was nothing stopping me. I checked out Plum Lovin' and Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich. I laughed, and then felt sad when the adventure was over. Typical me. Good thing book 13 is around the corner. Next, I read Terry Goodkind's Phantom. Now, I used to be a bit obsessed with his books. Love the philosophy, though the author says it's not a purposeful injection. In my mind, this goes back to all fiction having some autobiographical roots. We can't help put that little slice of self into our work, and I'm glad. Otherwise I might have missed out on so many amazing thinkers.
I read through Phantom like it was my life source. I'd waited too long between books, you see. Plus, when it came out, I misunderstood that this was to be the last in The Sword of Truth series. I've never been so glad to be wrong. As I neared the end, I kept saying to myself, "There's no way he's going to be able to tie up all these loose ends. There are too few pages and too much stuff that has to happen." I was right. Guess it's good for me that he has the other book coming out this fall. I love the world he constructed, the characters, the conflict and the fact that it is more broad than the typical man-and-his-journey story. The appeal for me is that the characters are not unlike me--even though in their world magic is as real as the air they breathe. If you haven't read these books, please do.
15 March 2007
Here I go Again...
In my last blog I said I'd be writing from my home on wheels. Not quite. Though my vehicular paradise does have Internet (wireless, thank God), I decided to hang out at the library. My new home is nestled in the Rockies, overlooked by Pikes Peak. Ten guesses as to where I've relocated... At any rate, it is more beautiful than I believed possible. Adventure and fun are really around each corner. And the libraries are FAB!!! Every time we pass a library in one of our jaunts, I want to stop and have a look. The DH is smart and rolls his eyes, but says nothing. In my mind, it's a win-win situation for him, especially since he doesn't have to pay for a new parcel of books.
In the meantime, I am still writing. Granted, the move made that a LOT slower, but I can taste the end. Right now, I'm fantasizing about the edits. When it comes to the overhaul, though, I'm sure I'll be doing more cursing than smiling. Honestly, most of the book is good. I just have some holes I need to plug. Just like the little Dutch Boy. When I'm not writing or cruising the library circuit, I am seriously job hunting.
I've done the job search before. When one moves as much as I have, it becomes almost a recreational activity. Maybe it's because I'm older now or because I'm finally calling one place home, but the search is WORK! I know why it's called job hunting. First, you determine your prey. Then you learn everything you can about the target, and the chase begins. For a moment, you stalk after it--noting the idiosyncrasies missed in the initial research. Finally, the interview. You and your prey lock eyes, and for a brief moment come to an understanding. So you shoot. Maybe you miss, maybe you hit dead on. But you get one chance to do it right, or you'll be forced to repeat the process.
Obviously, I'm not a hunter, but the analogy seemed to click for me in a new way as I scoped out the place I was interviewing with yesterday. I will be glad to be finished with this process so I can move into the next adventure. At least that's what I'm thinking now. By next year, all of this will be a blip of time in my life. I just keep reminding myself of this when my entourage starts bickering, or the toilet stops working, or the laundromat's closed. The list goes on. One thing I've been thrilled to see is that the love in our little six-wheeled paradise flows strong. We still play together and take care of each other. Nothing like a stint in a confined space to show you what's real and what's fiction.
In the meantime, I am still writing. Granted, the move made that a LOT slower, but I can taste the end. Right now, I'm fantasizing about the edits. When it comes to the overhaul, though, I'm sure I'll be doing more cursing than smiling. Honestly, most of the book is good. I just have some holes I need to plug. Just like the little Dutch Boy. When I'm not writing or cruising the library circuit, I am seriously job hunting.
I've done the job search before. When one moves as much as I have, it becomes almost a recreational activity. Maybe it's because I'm older now or because I'm finally calling one place home, but the search is WORK! I know why it's called job hunting. First, you determine your prey. Then you learn everything you can about the target, and the chase begins. For a moment, you stalk after it--noting the idiosyncrasies missed in the initial research. Finally, the interview. You and your prey lock eyes, and for a brief moment come to an understanding. So you shoot. Maybe you miss, maybe you hit dead on. But you get one chance to do it right, or you'll be forced to repeat the process.
Obviously, I'm not a hunter, but the analogy seemed to click for me in a new way as I scoped out the place I was interviewing with yesterday. I will be glad to be finished with this process so I can move into the next adventure. At least that's what I'm thinking now. By next year, all of this will be a blip of time in my life. I just keep reminding myself of this when my entourage starts bickering, or the toilet stops working, or the laundromat's closed. The list goes on. One thing I've been thrilled to see is that the love in our little six-wheeled paradise flows strong. We still play together and take care of each other. Nothing like a stint in a confined space to show you what's real and what's fiction.
26 February 2007
I really shouldn't be doing this...
In less than six hours the movers will be here to pack up my life. I have worked all day, washing laundry, arranging rooms and making things tidy so their work will go quicker and my day will be less stressful. Unfortunately, to do all this I haven't been able to go to bed. I sent the DH and children away so they could rest and be ready for appointments and school, respectively. I decided to take a break and reassess what's been done and what yet needs doing. My friends offered to help, which I would have gladly taken them up on if only I knew what I wanted done. Yes, there's a master plan, but having done this moving business more than a few times, I know it's the little things that trip you up. No matter how I try, how many lists I write, I know I will either forget something or remember way too much.
I can see it now. My car piled to the ceiling with crap that would have been better left behind. And most of it won't necessarily be mine. How does that happen? I have to admit though, I did pack my garment bag full of underwear. As long as I've got clean undies and a toothbrush, I'll be okay. Must have books too. Can't live without them. And my toolbox, and my battery charger because I refuse to be a damsel in distress. I just wasn't cut out for that role. Think all that will fit in my trunk--with the case full of intimates? I'll have to give my little car a deluxe oil change after this trip.
On the writing front, things have been wonderful. I'm so close I can taste it. My characters finally had sex. They tried to months ago, but the hero's daughter came home sooner than expected. Isn't that always the way? Being me, I had to put them through hell before I could give them a glimpse of heaven. Kidnapping, a break up, the reappearance of the ex-wife and much, much more kept this couple out of the bedroom. Then, they got engaged. Awww... Now that they've done the deed, I wonder how their relationship will change. I don't see anything huge on the horizon. They are very steady, these two, but one never knows with my characters. Every now and again, they do the damnedest things. Keeps me on my toes.
Guess I should go back to work. Did you hear that? It was a great big, fat, hairy sigh. I don't want to do it! I don't want to do any more laundry or dishes or dusting or anything that doesn't involve crawling on the floor with a blanket and pillow and going to sleep. This is where I remind myself to be grateful. If I didn't have a home, food or clothes, I wouldn't have the opportunity to take care of my things. Off to be a good steward. Next time you hear from me, I'll be writing from my home on wheels! Woo hoo! I'm counting down in earnest.
I can see it now. My car piled to the ceiling with crap that would have been better left behind. And most of it won't necessarily be mine. How does that happen? I have to admit though, I did pack my garment bag full of underwear. As long as I've got clean undies and a toothbrush, I'll be okay. Must have books too. Can't live without them. And my toolbox, and my battery charger because I refuse to be a damsel in distress. I just wasn't cut out for that role. Think all that will fit in my trunk--with the case full of intimates? I'll have to give my little car a deluxe oil change after this trip.
On the writing front, things have been wonderful. I'm so close I can taste it. My characters finally had sex. They tried to months ago, but the hero's daughter came home sooner than expected. Isn't that always the way? Being me, I had to put them through hell before I could give them a glimpse of heaven. Kidnapping, a break up, the reappearance of the ex-wife and much, much more kept this couple out of the bedroom. Then, they got engaged. Awww... Now that they've done the deed, I wonder how their relationship will change. I don't see anything huge on the horizon. They are very steady, these two, but one never knows with my characters. Every now and again, they do the damnedest things. Keeps me on my toes.
Guess I should go back to work. Did you hear that? It was a great big, fat, hairy sigh. I don't want to do it! I don't want to do any more laundry or dishes or dusting or anything that doesn't involve crawling on the floor with a blanket and pillow and going to sleep. This is where I remind myself to be grateful. If I didn't have a home, food or clothes, I wouldn't have the opportunity to take care of my things. Off to be a good steward. Next time you hear from me, I'll be writing from my home on wheels! Woo hoo! I'm counting down in earnest.
21 February 2007
Gone so long...
Wow! Time flies when you're having fun. Isn't that what they say? I don't know if it's fun I've been having or what, but the time is moving like nobody's business. I figured since I haven't been here in ages that it would be good to reconnect, to stretch my writing fingers. Friday, my house will be packed--at least they'll start the process. And a few days later, I'll be in a new place being a whole new me. I'm so excited and nervous about everything! I just haven't been able to complete my current story. New ideas keep popping in my head, which I write immediately. I do a few paragraphs a day on it, though today has been MUCH more productive. No matter what I do on this story, I keep thinking it's all crap. Probably, I'm just being a typical, ar-teest drama queen. That's how I felt when I started this book. Then I gave it to some awesome critiquers (they were awesome before they read this piece, trust me) who thought my story was fabulous. Obviously, I'm not a good judge of my own work.
Today I received my feedback and scores from a writing contest I entered in November. I knew I hadn't finaled, but I was curious to know what non-biased readers thought of my story. Maybe I'm weird, but when I learned I hadn't placed in the top three, I assumed that my scores would be abysmal. I was prepared for the absolute worst. What I ended up receiving was far from terrible. Out of four scores, two were perfect, one was terrible and one was good. Not bad for a virgin entrant. Believe it or not, I'm excited about sending thank you notes to each of the judges. Not only did they share of their time, but they gave me perspective, which in the writing business, is invaluable.
I finished judging the entries I had from the Golden Heart today too. Scores submitted, and I'm done. Talk about an adventure. I am still so new to the professional writing arena. Still learning the rules and sadly botching a few now and again. Reading from a judge's point of view gave me quite a bit of insight into my own writing. Now I understand editor and agent responses to the flood of queries that cross their desks. I know how important it is to grab someone's attention and keep it from one sentence to the next. This is different from what I do when I critique someone else's work. When I critique, I do read critically, but at the same time, I'm trying to figure out how to help the writing improve. As a judge, my focus centered on the professional presentation of a marketable product. Certainly, the ends of both processes are the same, but the means are worlds apart.
All of the entries were polished in terms of punctuation and grammar, which was a huge relief. When I read editor and agent blogs, I'm often surprised by correspondence they receive that is poorly presented. Yes, some of us do write as pure hobby with no concern for publishing. But for people who would go as far as trying to win an agent with a sloppily done introduction letter or ill-formatted manuscript, their intent is more than a pleasant diversion. I guess that's why I can't understand not putting one's best foot forward. At any rate, I didn't have to deal with that. Each of my entries showed a lot of care behind the work. There were times as I read that I wanted to slip into critique mode. I wanted to make a suggestion here or there to make the stories stronger, or close a plot gap. Things that people have been so generous to do for me as I've worked at my craft. But I couldn't. I had to try my best to don an editor's cap and look at the work as something my livelihood depended on. If that doesn't put it into perspective, I don't know what will.
Can you imagine having to choose the right book or mix of books to put on the market? It may sound like fun, but when I think about it, my stomach churns! It reminds me of when I thought being the President of the US would be fun. Older and hopefully wiser now, I know that I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility--EVER! Okay, so editors don't have the weight of the world on their shoulders, but their choices influence culture, which in turn changes the way people interact with each other. Man alive! No matter how I slice it, the job sounds huge to me. Being a judge in this contest reminded me of how one person can touch another's life from thousands of miles away. Makes me feel big and small at the same time.
I know some of the entrants will be disappointed when the scores are released in late March. They have sent their best work in, and it may come back with less than stellar marks. Honestly, everyone who entered knew that there was a better chance of losing than winning. In fact, the people who final will likely amount to a little more than one percent of all the entries. Just like all of us who are in the query rush. The Bible says, "It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." Insert a wannabe published writer for rich man, exchange publishing for kingdom of God, and you've got the jist of the publishing arena. With odds like that, it would be easier to quit or at least find a profession with a better success rate--like teaching wild rabbits to parachute. The problem is, I'm not good at quitting. What can I say? I'm a first-born, and some words are not a part of my vocabulary.
Right now, it's easy to be the optimistic cynic. We'll see what happens when March 26th rolls around. Until that time, I'll focus on moving into a new place, finding a job that will blossom into a career and writing out my characters' stories as they share them with me. That sounds like enough to keep me busy for a lifetime--or twenty some odd days.
Today I received my feedback and scores from a writing contest I entered in November. I knew I hadn't finaled, but I was curious to know what non-biased readers thought of my story. Maybe I'm weird, but when I learned I hadn't placed in the top three, I assumed that my scores would be abysmal. I was prepared for the absolute worst. What I ended up receiving was far from terrible. Out of four scores, two were perfect, one was terrible and one was good. Not bad for a virgin entrant. Believe it or not, I'm excited about sending thank you notes to each of the judges. Not only did they share of their time, but they gave me perspective, which in the writing business, is invaluable.
I finished judging the entries I had from the Golden Heart today too. Scores submitted, and I'm done. Talk about an adventure. I am still so new to the professional writing arena. Still learning the rules and sadly botching a few now and again. Reading from a judge's point of view gave me quite a bit of insight into my own writing. Now I understand editor and agent responses to the flood of queries that cross their desks. I know how important it is to grab someone's attention and keep it from one sentence to the next. This is different from what I do when I critique someone else's work. When I critique, I do read critically, but at the same time, I'm trying to figure out how to help the writing improve. As a judge, my focus centered on the professional presentation of a marketable product. Certainly, the ends of both processes are the same, but the means are worlds apart.
All of the entries were polished in terms of punctuation and grammar, which was a huge relief. When I read editor and agent blogs, I'm often surprised by correspondence they receive that is poorly presented. Yes, some of us do write as pure hobby with no concern for publishing. But for people who would go as far as trying to win an agent with a sloppily done introduction letter or ill-formatted manuscript, their intent is more than a pleasant diversion. I guess that's why I can't understand not putting one's best foot forward. At any rate, I didn't have to deal with that. Each of my entries showed a lot of care behind the work. There were times as I read that I wanted to slip into critique mode. I wanted to make a suggestion here or there to make the stories stronger, or close a plot gap. Things that people have been so generous to do for me as I've worked at my craft. But I couldn't. I had to try my best to don an editor's cap and look at the work as something my livelihood depended on. If that doesn't put it into perspective, I don't know what will.
Can you imagine having to choose the right book or mix of books to put on the market? It may sound like fun, but when I think about it, my stomach churns! It reminds me of when I thought being the President of the US would be fun. Older and hopefully wiser now, I know that I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility--EVER! Okay, so editors don't have the weight of the world on their shoulders, but their choices influence culture, which in turn changes the way people interact with each other. Man alive! No matter how I slice it, the job sounds huge to me. Being a judge in this contest reminded me of how one person can touch another's life from thousands of miles away. Makes me feel big and small at the same time.
I know some of the entrants will be disappointed when the scores are released in late March. They have sent their best work in, and it may come back with less than stellar marks. Honestly, everyone who entered knew that there was a better chance of losing than winning. In fact, the people who final will likely amount to a little more than one percent of all the entries. Just like all of us who are in the query rush. The Bible says, "It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." Insert a wannabe published writer for rich man, exchange publishing for kingdom of God, and you've got the jist of the publishing arena. With odds like that, it would be easier to quit or at least find a profession with a better success rate--like teaching wild rabbits to parachute. The problem is, I'm not good at quitting. What can I say? I'm a first-born, and some words are not a part of my vocabulary.
Right now, it's easy to be the optimistic cynic. We'll see what happens when March 26th rolls around. Until that time, I'll focus on moving into a new place, finding a job that will blossom into a career and writing out my characters' stories as they share them with me. That sounds like enough to keep me busy for a lifetime--or twenty some odd days.
19 February 2007
Eight more days....
I have eight days left in my current house, and then the new adventure begins. Eight days to pack, clean and have the house fit for its new family. Anyone who's ever lived in a townhouse will understand how important it is to have good neighbors. I've been so very fortunate to have ones who were polite and kept to themselves. That being said, I don't want to live in a place where I end up packed in like a sardine. I need space to be me.
13 February 2007
More nonsense...
So, I've been away for awhile because I was sick and we've been looking for a house. All this time, I thought my husband and I were on the same page. Thought we wanted the same thing in a home. Boy, was I wrong! Turns out my husband is under the impression that we can buy a mansion while I believe in humble, affordable living. Can you see how this has become an uphill trudge in the snow--both ways!? As if the coming weeks weren't going to be hard enough! I've got Mr. Champagne-Tastes-on-a-Beer-Bottle-Budget to work with. Ugh!!!
Today was really cool. I worked with a group of special needs students at a local elementary school. Having been sick and trying to gear up the house for the move, I've been out of the working loop for a few days. Going back was refreshing. The kids were great--and it was nice for once to be called by my first name as opposed to my surname--made me feel like I was still a person rather than some sort of looming parental object. I love it when I get to work with kids and am asked to return the next day. No, I'm not wishing for teachers to be sick, but it's so nice to have consistency--and a paycheck. So tomorrow, I will be with the kiddies. They will be surprised to see me, but I think they'll be tickled too. For some crazy reason, children like me! Maybe they sense that despite the fact that I'm decades their senior, we're not unalike.
Sorry I've been away so long, dear readers. Surely I flatter myself by being so delusional as to think that someone other than myself reads this blog. But alas, my delusion hurts no one, so I'm sticking with it. As young as spending the day with the children makes me feel, I will feel like Methuselah tomorrow morning if I don't go to bed NOW.
What do you do to feel young and alive?
Today was really cool. I worked with a group of special needs students at a local elementary school. Having been sick and trying to gear up the house for the move, I've been out of the working loop for a few days. Going back was refreshing. The kids were great--and it was nice for once to be called by my first name as opposed to my surname--made me feel like I was still a person rather than some sort of looming parental object. I love it when I get to work with kids and am asked to return the next day. No, I'm not wishing for teachers to be sick, but it's so nice to have consistency--and a paycheck. So tomorrow, I will be with the kiddies. They will be surprised to see me, but I think they'll be tickled too. For some crazy reason, children like me! Maybe they sense that despite the fact that I'm decades their senior, we're not unalike.
Sorry I've been away so long, dear readers. Surely I flatter myself by being so delusional as to think that someone other than myself reads this blog. But alas, my delusion hurts no one, so I'm sticking with it. As young as spending the day with the children makes me feel, I will feel like Methuselah tomorrow morning if I don't go to bed NOW.
What do you do to feel young and alive?
04 February 2007
Scared spitless...
Only twenty-four days left in the month. Just enough time to pack up my old life and move into a new one. We spent the weekend packing, cleaning and doing moverly activities. I surfed the web for new homes, jobs, et cetera. Today, a realtor called to get a better idea of what we're looking for. That's almost like having someone ask what you want for Christmas. What do you say? If you eat every day and have clothes to wear and a shelter to keep you warm at night, what else do you need? Can you tell I suck at answering the Christmas question? I was proud of myself for being able to describe concisely what we need. Now, we'll see how it goes. This coming weekend will be the moment of truth.
In other news, I haven't really spent much time writing. I've been crazy exhausted, and am now sick with what appears to be the beginning of bronchitis. As I don't have time for sickness right now, I'm fighting like a mad woman to keep my body working right. I have one contest entry left to judge--woo hoo! It's all finally winding down.
I keep saying I'm scared. It's like a running theme in my life lately. Actually, I'm not scared so much as nervous, frustrated and anxious. What if I fail? That question spins on a loop in the back of my mind. For the most part, my brain is quiet and lets me forget my fear of floundering. Sometimes, though, like when I'm sick and a captive of my bed, the negativity screams in my head. I can't afford to fail, and I've never been a quitter, so the loop needs to just shut up! I will be fine, my family will be fine, and this episode will become one of life's little benchmarks.
I've left my characters hanging, and I have to wonder if they've moved on without me or if they're having a bit of an intermission while I get my act together. I can just see them pacing the pages, taking a cigarette break, hoping to God I'll finish what I started. Poor guys! And now I've added something else to my cache of distractions--crocheting. I haven't done it in years, needed a scarf, and thought it would be great to make my own. Maybe if I'm feeling super brave, I'll post a picture of it when it's finished.
What do you do when life yanks the rug from under you?
In other news, I haven't really spent much time writing. I've been crazy exhausted, and am now sick with what appears to be the beginning of bronchitis. As I don't have time for sickness right now, I'm fighting like a mad woman to keep my body working right. I have one contest entry left to judge--woo hoo! It's all finally winding down.
I keep saying I'm scared. It's like a running theme in my life lately. Actually, I'm not scared so much as nervous, frustrated and anxious. What if I fail? That question spins on a loop in the back of my mind. For the most part, my brain is quiet and lets me forget my fear of floundering. Sometimes, though, like when I'm sick and a captive of my bed, the negativity screams in my head. I can't afford to fail, and I've never been a quitter, so the loop needs to just shut up! I will be fine, my family will be fine, and this episode will become one of life's little benchmarks.
I've left my characters hanging, and I have to wonder if they've moved on without me or if they're having a bit of an intermission while I get my act together. I can just see them pacing the pages, taking a cigarette break, hoping to God I'll finish what I started. Poor guys! And now I've added something else to my cache of distractions--crocheting. I haven't done it in years, needed a scarf, and thought it would be great to make my own. Maybe if I'm feeling super brave, I'll post a picture of it when it's finished.
What do you do when life yanks the rug from under you?
31 January 2007
I'm not crazy...no, really, I'm not!
You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what's burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke. ~Arthur Polotnik
Recently, I was hit by a bolt of lightning. Okay, so not physically, but it felt real enough to me. I was reading over some of my writing and trying to figure out what the heck I’ve been doing with myself—what exactly my purpose is—and realized that while each of my heroines is different, they share a similar struggle. In each of my mss, my characters are searching for happiness. I don’t even think happiness is the right term because that emotion, while euphoric and exciting, is fleeting. I’d like to think that my characters are out for joy and contentment.
Being the type of person I am, I went on a soul-searching journey to figure out why I’m putting these people through so much for something that isn’t tangible by any means and is so subjective. For every question I put to myself, I received one answer. BECAUSE. That’s not the entire answer, of course. As my mom always said when I was much younger, because is not a reason.
Here’s the real deal. Every year, I go to a writer’s conference in
I don’t remember much of what happened that night—something about the wine at dinner followed by cocktails, did me in. But I did come away with one thought: All fiction is somewhat autobiographical. Not his quote, but as the name of the actual phrase-coiner is lost in that wine/vodka/insomniac haze, it’s the best I can do. We writers are told all the time to write what we know. Is this a bad time to admit how much I hate that adage? Every time I hear it, that niggling bit of self-doubt, which sometimes does a better job of screaming out than my characters, surges forth to say I don’t know anything. This begets an encouraging stint of positive self-talk that rambles on longer than this post. A nasty cycle of wasted time, to be sure, but at least each grows shorter as time moves on.
Anyway, I admitted to myself that night that Mr. Lewis is absolutely correct. Each of my characters has some bit of me, whether it’s gulping steaming mugs of hot coffee, a need to eradicate chaos from every aspect of their personal life, or the kernel of self-doubt. They are a little like me. Hey, what do you know? I’m writing on something in which I have a grain silo of knowledge. So what does that say about them searching for supreme joy? Yeah, I know that journey. It’s long, painful, tinged with rejection, but SO totally worth it. Now I wonder where I’ll take my characters (more like where they’ll take me—still can’t make them obey too well) once this happiness kick is worked out of my system. It should be interesting.
News...
Today, DH and I found out he is officially retired today. That means we will be moving in less than a month. Yikes! We are scrambling to find new jobs and a place to live. I am scared and excited about the change. Scared because it will be a whole new life for us and excited because it's a whole new life! The kids will be in new schools. The eldest will be jumping from elementary school to junior high. The younger two will go to local elementary schools in the district. On the upside, they will get to be close to family, which is something they haven't had--ever.
27 January 2007
Something new...
Today, we took our middle man to dinner to celebrate his scholastic achievements. His favorite restaurant happens to be near Barnes & Noble, so we stopped there first while we waited for a table to open. I am a fool for bookstores. I bought a new Piers Anthony and the newest addition to Simon R. Green's Nightside series. I also managed to find a book I've had my eye on for a little while--Eats, Shites and Leaves. Yes, that is the real name. It's a parody of the well known grammar/language usage book, Eats, Shoots and Leaves. With a title like that, I had to buy it. And because I neglected buying calendars at the start of the year, I bought everyone a new calendar.
Take a deep breath, 'cause we're finally getting to the good part. My calendar is based on the popular book series, Would You Rather...? So with each new day, I get to choose a new dilemma, which I get to share with you. Some of them are downright funny, and some make me blush! What a cool adventure. The worst part of this game is the fact that you must choose between the two options. Today's is kind of fun. Would you rather have breast implants made of Nerf or Play-Doh?1
Definitely Nerf. Nerf holds its shape. Okay, so dogs love to gnaw it to death, but if I keep my shirt on, that shouldn't be a problem, right? Those would be great. Never would I need a bra, and think of the rainbow assortment of colors! So what would you choose?
1 Would You Rather? Copyright 2006 by Justin Heimberg and David Gomberg
Take a deep breath, 'cause we're finally getting to the good part. My calendar is based on the popular book series, Would You Rather...? So with each new day, I get to choose a new dilemma, which I get to share with you. Some of them are downright funny, and some make me blush! What a cool adventure. The worst part of this game is the fact that you must choose between the two options. Today's is kind of fun. Would you rather have breast implants made of Nerf or Play-Doh?1
Definitely Nerf. Nerf holds its shape. Okay, so dogs love to gnaw it to death, but if I keep my shirt on, that shouldn't be a problem, right? Those would be great. Never would I need a bra, and think of the rainbow assortment of colors! So what would you choose?
1 Would You Rather? Copyright 2006 by Justin Heimberg and David Gomberg
Still standing...
Remember how I was saying I hadn't worked all month. Then I got to sub Monday. Well, the only day I didn't work this week was Wednesday. I was trying to get some business taken care of, and I couldn't do that by spending a day at school, so I requested it off. Of course, because I wanted to take care of things, I met every road block possible. Such is life. I spent the last two days with a lovely group of kindergartners. It dawned on me today that I've spent the majority of my subbing time with older kids. Because my own children are older, I kinda forgot how exhausting being with little people can be. But, God, they were fun!
Now, I'm sipping tea and relaxing before I attack my new work in progress. I'm working on getting in deeper with my characters. Who knew how hard that could be? Writing if nothing else, is a learning experience. And I'm so glad to know I'm not the only person on the journey. I write because it is my sanity. My escape from the real world where things are absolutely out of my control. In my worlds, I'm the one in charge. But even though my characters are purely fictional entities, I can't make myself force them into ugly situations just because I want to exert myself over them. I can't hep respecting that they are people who have passions, dreams and secret, private pain.
This is not to say that I don't put my characters in tough spots. I'm the same woman who said I like to take them to hell before I let them catch a glimpse of heaven, after all. But I don't torture them just because I can. Recent feedback on my work has made me examine myself. I realized that part of the reason I wasn't allowing myself to go deeper with my characters is that I rarely let people see my depth. Why? Because most people are content to deal with the surface. They don't care about what makes me tick. So when I thought I was writing for an escape, I was so wrong. I can't escape myself. Love me or leave me, I am who I am. The people who are in my life in a real way understand this quirk of mine, and they let me show them the dark side. And for some crazy reason, they love me anyway!
They've earned that place by sticking with me and being brave enough to show me their true selves. I can't think of a better gift to offer someone than true, warts and all love. I am awed every day by the love and respect that my friends show me. My characters are seeking love, or at the very least a strong affinity, from anyone who will read my work. So that means they have to take the first step. I have to allow them to take the first step, and show their true selves. Wow! The funny thing is that as much as I maintain a private persona, my characters, the people who cohabitate in MY brain, have no qualms about being exposed. Man, I wish they had told me this from the beginning instead of making me slog through and discover it for myself. But like I tell my kids, they need to go through the learning process so the knowledge will be theirs. Touché.
Now, I'm sipping tea and relaxing before I attack my new work in progress. I'm working on getting in deeper with my characters. Who knew how hard that could be? Writing if nothing else, is a learning experience. And I'm so glad to know I'm not the only person on the journey. I write because it is my sanity. My escape from the real world where things are absolutely out of my control. In my worlds, I'm the one in charge. But even though my characters are purely fictional entities, I can't make myself force them into ugly situations just because I want to exert myself over them. I can't hep respecting that they are people who have passions, dreams and secret, private pain.
This is not to say that I don't put my characters in tough spots. I'm the same woman who said I like to take them to hell before I let them catch a glimpse of heaven, after all. But I don't torture them just because I can. Recent feedback on my work has made me examine myself. I realized that part of the reason I wasn't allowing myself to go deeper with my characters is that I rarely let people see my depth. Why? Because most people are content to deal with the surface. They don't care about what makes me tick. So when I thought I was writing for an escape, I was so wrong. I can't escape myself. Love me or leave me, I am who I am. The people who are in my life in a real way understand this quirk of mine, and they let me show them the dark side. And for some crazy reason, they love me anyway!
They've earned that place by sticking with me and being brave enough to show me their true selves. I can't think of a better gift to offer someone than true, warts and all love. I am awed every day by the love and respect that my friends show me. My characters are seeking love, or at the very least a strong affinity, from anyone who will read my work. So that means they have to take the first step. I have to allow them to take the first step, and show their true selves. Wow! The funny thing is that as much as I maintain a private persona, my characters, the people who cohabitate in MY brain, have no qualms about being exposed. Man, I wish they had told me this from the beginning instead of making me slog through and discover it for myself. But like I tell my kids, they need to go through the learning process so the knowledge will be theirs. Touché.
23 January 2007
Pushing against stone...
I was a bit disappointed that I hadn't worked all month. Even started looking for more permanent, regular work. I love working in education, but the operative word there is work. Well, I am disappointed no longer! I stayed up way too late Sunday night. In fact I didn't go to sleep. After eight, I figured the school district didn't need me, so I got in bed with a book and prepared to catch a little nap. At nine-thirty, the phone rang. They needed me to teach. As I needed the money and wasn't in a sleep state, I said yes and hurried off to the school. I had a blast, but was unbelievably tired and hungry after work. Add to that, Mondays are karate nights and I had to do some grocery shopping. By the time we got home from karate and the kids ate and went to bed, I was wiped out. Too tired to eat even! I sat in laptop central and checked my email. My dear crit partner needed me to fill in for her in our daily inspiration thread. Despite the fatigue, I was honored to have been asked, so I read through writerly quotes for one that would be just right.
Some members of our group took on a challenge for January to push ahead on our manuscripts. For some of us that meant outlining and plotting. For others, like me, it meant pounding out the pages. My crit partner has done an amazing job of keeping us encouraged during this month. She always had the perfect words to inspire, so when she entrusted me with the job, I felt less than equipped. Outside of schoolwork, I've never bothered with finding quotes. I try to be uplifting if I can, but the words don't seem to gel for me all the time. It took me three edits to get my little piece right, but I am proud of what I accomplished. Now, ask me what I got done on my book! Can you hear the winds sweeping through that deserted street there? See that tumbleweed passing through? Yeah, you know why? I didn't write word one on the manuscript.
Tonight, my goal is to write a few pages. I know how the story is supposed to end. The hero and heroine have finally worked out their little argument, the villain is comfortably hiding in the wings, waiting to come on-stage and wreak havoc. It's just hard to push through because I'm learning the story as I go. Once my fingers start flying over the keyboard, the story takes a life of its own and my brain isn't big enough to process it all. Every time I open my file, I get a little stage fright. I am afraid that I won't be able to live up to my characters' truth. Guess I'll have to bear in mind that bit of inspiration I shared with my writing colleagues.
Some members of our group took on a challenge for January to push ahead on our manuscripts. For some of us that meant outlining and plotting. For others, like me, it meant pounding out the pages. My crit partner has done an amazing job of keeping us encouraged during this month. She always had the perfect words to inspire, so when she entrusted me with the job, I felt less than equipped. Outside of schoolwork, I've never bothered with finding quotes. I try to be uplifting if I can, but the words don't seem to gel for me all the time. It took me three edits to get my little piece right, but I am proud of what I accomplished. Now, ask me what I got done on my book! Can you hear the winds sweeping through that deserted street there? See that tumbleweed passing through? Yeah, you know why? I didn't write word one on the manuscript.
Tonight, my goal is to write a few pages. I know how the story is supposed to end. The hero and heroine have finally worked out their little argument, the villain is comfortably hiding in the wings, waiting to come on-stage and wreak havoc. It's just hard to push through because I'm learning the story as I go. Once my fingers start flying over the keyboard, the story takes a life of its own and my brain isn't big enough to process it all. Every time I open my file, I get a little stage fright. I am afraid that I won't be able to live up to my characters' truth. Guess I'll have to bear in mind that bit of inspiration I shared with my writing colleagues.
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov
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