The Ride that is Life … the New, the Scary, and the Blah

Tags

contest, life, magic, puppy, stories, stress, thoughts, writing

Hello, Monday!

Blog day when I search my head for what has been tumbling around in there and write about it. However, today, not much stomps through my brain. Well, I take that back. Plenty of things are roaming the darkness that is my mind, perhaps that’s why I can’t focus on one topic.

Let’s celebrate those weeks where all sorts of cool things are set to happen, when we let go of the stress and are ready to enjoy the ride. I sit here, on Monday morning, ready for the week, for all the fun, the unexpected, whatever wants to roll my way. Bring it on, life.

We have closed the pool. Whew. That is a load off my thoughts.

I have clipped, pruned, and weeded… fall yard work can be checked off the list.

I finished critiquing a manuscript last night. Yea!

The weight on my shoulders has lifted. I feel free. Accomplishment is a fabulous friend.

So I look forward to what this week brings.

Tomorrow (Tuesday), our puppy gets to come home. The kids don’t know, but he will be here to welcome them home from school. They will be so HAPPY! My excitement (he is so cute!) is dimmed by a nervous energy, and, if you know me, you know I don’t like change… it makes me a panicked mess. Do not be surprised if the next blog post is me pulling my hair out at how many messes I’ve cleaned or what has been destroyed by tiny puppy teeth.

Wednesday… let’s just take a moment and enjoy that October will be here! The beauty of fall will reach its peak in a couple of weeks. The colors. The chatter of the browned cornstalks. The chill in the air. *sigh* And HALLOWEEN! Even though my kids have decided they are too old for tick-or-treating (WHAT?) I will still find fun.

On Friday, my haunted house themed story will be posted on the Pen and Muse blog in their showcase! I had a great time writing that one. All the dark and creepy! I will be visiting their blog all month to read all the stories and see the art work.

Of course, Friday means the release of the movie Annabelle (did I spell that right?). I will see that… I will have nightmares, because creepy doll… but I will see that! Alone.

On Sunday, The Midnight Society will announce the winner of the flash fiction contest, you can read about that here https://findingfaeries.wordpress.com/2014/09/18/lets-celebrate-flash-fiction-conquered/. There aren’t many entered, so I might have a shot. *crosses fingers*

Anyway… maybe a rejection will poke its nose into the week, but oh well. I have more CPing to do and stories to revise and post on wattpad. I will share my triumph (hopefully) of that experience later.

I will enjoy what will come. I am letting the stress go, throwing my hands up and screaming in joy and prepared to laugh if it goes awry – cause it will, kids, this is life. If you stare out at a week full of the terrifyingly uncontrollable stuff, a week of exciting new developments, or a plain ol’ week of blah make sure to enjoy the ride. We only get one.

Laugh in the face of danger.

Smile at fate.

Keep your eyes open to all the possibilities.

Shine on, fellow riders. Don’t forget to look for the magic.

 

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A Day of Joy and Sadness

Tags

acceptance, be you, doubt, rejection, support, thoughts, writing

Yesterday brought me two extremes.

I cried tears of joy, squeeeeeeing uncontrollably, one moment and fell into complete sadness the next. {HUGS} to those friends, who let me into their lives and shared their emotions.

How strange life can be. How weird and unpredictable this world we live in actually is. Living the life of an artist, brings an uncontrollable element – other people. Those who create beauty either with words or paint or whatever exist to share what they do and with that comes the fabulousness of acceptance and the devastation of rejection.

We can’t do what we do without people to receive it. And we want people to read our words, experience our art. And, lord help us all, we want people to LIKE what we do.

Therein lies the problem. That bad review… that rejection waving the red flag of failure. In our minds, we know not everyone will like what we do, we know the rejections will come. And no matter how many you get, they hurt! Our hearts scream that we’re not good enough. But we can’t give up, I mean take a day to shovel chocolate in your face and feel like an utter waste of space, sure. Then get up. Find friends who can remind you how awesome you are (and listen to them, people, they know stuff). Because the person who is wiping away tears of joy one day might not feel so hot the next. The despairing person licking the bottom of the carton of ice cream at 3 am might be celebrating a victory hours later.

I’m hovering somewhere in-between hope and giving up completely. I’m cheer leading for my friends. I’m CPing. I’m working on short stories, because they’re fun. I’m waiting (not patiently) for a new story contest to be announced… AH! And then panic because what if I enter and I suck! *breathes*

As I linger here in limbo, I take stock of my victories and sit with my doubts. If my life means forever cheer leading? That’s okay. I will continue to critique others’ manuscripts, because, when someone says that my comment helped them make their story better, I sit up straighter and smile brighter.

But I won’t ever stop writing. I won’t ever stop sending my words out into the world, hoping someone loves them. That darn dream.

The world is weird. The life of an artist is strange, unexplainable, a roller coaster of emotions. Get on the ride. Enjoy it. Relish the fact you get to ride even when turns evil. For all my writer friends, (and we won’t dwell on the sad fact that most of them exist on Twitter) stay awesome, keep supporting each other, share encouragement, share your words.

In the end, figure out who you want to be and BE THAT PERSON. You can’t ever fail at being you. EVER.

 

Facing Dark Magic … Failure, Fear

Tags

dreams, failure, fear, hope, thoughts, writing

My worst fear is failure.

The pool, once again, turned green this year. Everything I tried to fix it failed. So I prepare to close the pool, knowing I will have to fight it next year, knowing I failed.

As a kid, Mom called me a perfectionist, a character trait I have fought for years. If I didn’t know I could do something perfectly, I wouldn’t try. I stayed in my comfort zone, never breaking out into the world to see what was out there waiting for me. Naive… sheltered… scared to death… yup, that was me.

In college, I received my first grade lower than a B – C, D, even an F. It devastated me. I had failed. I was failing. I chose to major in art, a subjective area, where grades depend on someone’s opinion. Let me study, memorize, learn formulas and I will soar, but I wanted to tap into the creative energy that lurked in my soul. My chosen major made my mom panic. When I came home with low grades, she freaked out. My dad, who had dabbled in the art world, shrugged and said, “That’s art. Your life depends on what other people think.”

Huh. He shrugged. He accepted it.

Honestly getting those grades, facing failure made me stronger. I hadn’t died. The world hadn’t ended. I learned more from those classes where I struggled than in any others.

So ten years ago, I decided to be a writer, something I knew nothing about.

Would I fail?

Maybe. It was incredibly scary. But I wrote a book, then another, and another… but these aren’t just for me, I want others (people not related to me) to read them.

Would they ever be published?

I don’t know. I still don’t.

But, as scared as I am at getting those rejections, I am more afraid of never trying, of never knowing if it was possible.

Because it is possible. Fear whispers. It holds us down. But it isn’t real. And no one should let that little demon keep them from pursuing a dream.

Dreams are important. They are what make being human special. When my first story was published … oh, seven or so years ago … my sister sent me a card that read, “Dreams come a size too big so we can grow into them.”

As I went out to my failed pool yesterday, ready to cover and forget it, I discovered that my last effort had not failed… the green was settling to the bottom. So a bit of elbow grease to vacuum it out, gives me hope. Just when you think it’s done, over, finished, lying dead at the bottom of the pit of failure, a ray of light shines on the world.

Fear. Failure. They are strong adversaries, dark magic.

Dreaming. Hope. these make powerful allies in the fight to achieve our goals, to walk out into the unknown and create our lives.

My dream is big, but I am growing.

Everything is possible.

Let’s Celebrate! Flash Fiction Conquered

Tags

contests, flash fiction story, horror, mailboxes, Midnight Society blog, writing

I love horror.

My love of everything strange, fantastical, and scary began with my dad. Too young or whatever, Dad didn’t change the channel. Either put up with what strangeness was on TV or leave. I was exposed to many things, which warped my mind in odd way (but I don’t think it could have been avoided). When my sisters and I would enter the family room and gaze upon the wonder of what sci-fi, horror, or plain weird entertainment my dad had on, they ran. I stayed.

Never did I believe I could write horror. Never. Until now.

The Midnight Society blog is one of my favorites. The creepy stuff they find and share… seriously. AWESOME. So when they announced a flash fiction contest for the month of September, I sat up a bit straighter.

The theme… mailboxes.

I could not resist.

I thought I’d share it. If you enjoy it, go visit their blog to read the others. http://midnightsocietytales.com/2014/09/07/flash-fiction-contest/                       Maybe even write one of your own… maybe you will be chosen as the winner!

Here is my first attempt at something really short… I’ve never written anything under 2000 words…

And this will explain why, when I put my mother’s birthday card in the mail today, I shuddered when I raised that innocent-looking red flag.

Final Message
I deserve the great nothingness of death.

But it failed to devour me.

Late summer sunlight glares across the front of the white house with blue shutters. My house. Behind me, browning corn stalks chatter in a breeze. My heart flutters nervously at the thought of entering after my long absence, of facing the ghosts that haunted me.

My fingers tug at the plastic band around my wrist. I wouldn’t let them cut it off. After months of therapy, I wanted to keep my problems.

The wind dies, plunging the world into eerie quiet.

Squeak.

I turn, glancing at the field behind me and down the empty road. Nothing. The mailbox sits on its wooden cross. The red flag stands at attention, oddly out of place. I press the red metal shape down and it creaks in protest, echoing the sound.

I brush the confusion away and take one step towards the house then stop.

The front door stands guard. The windows calmly reflect the world. Icy fear closes on my heart. Does the fear still linger in the halls? Do the haunting voices of the dead wait to attack?

Squeak.

The sound, like a cry of pain, of hatred. I glance over my shoulder. The mailbox’s red flag trembles. A gasp lingers on my lips. Fear, anxiety, and confusion pound in my head. The street remains empty, the sun glinting off the pavement. The air vibrates with the terrible hum of cicadas. Stepping forward, my hand shakes as I reach for the flag, forcing it down. I gaze up at the sky, wanting to blame the wind, and blink in the bright light. Fire.

Like the blaze, the one I had started, the one that had killed. Beautiful raging flames remind me of the hell, waiting to claim my soul.

Squeak.

I snap my gaze back to the mailbox. Tears fill my eyes, blurring the red shape,pointing up to the sky as if in accusation. With a cry of frustration, I slap the flag into place. I stare at it as I back away, running my fingers along the long pink scars lining my wrists.

Squeak.

A sob rips from my throat as the red object rises up, slowly, purposefully. I twist the hospital band around my wrist as I step forward to face my fears, to fight. Like

I had that day.

A shudder crawls up my spine and settles in my mind.

All the death of that day.

My fault.

And it hadn’t mattered.

The letter, an uncaring form, screamed when I lit it on fire. My heart races with the memories of power as I fueled the inferno. The stacks of files on the floor had crackled as their edges blackened, curled, the flames spreading in moments.

The alarm. The screams. I had walked calmly away.

I reach for the mailbox. A wave of cold sweeps across my face.

Sunlight illuminates my jagged scar, the remnant of my search for oblivion. My lip quivers at the thought of eternal sleep, of paying for my crime. My heart pounds out a chaotic rhythm as I force the red thing down.

Tears stroke my cheeks with fear, with acceptance. Those who had died returned for me, demanding I pay. Therapy tried to convince me that there are no ghosts, but there are. They were with me when I sliced my wrists. They laughed. Shadows pool under my feet and the mailbox as if darkness gathers to take me.

Squeak.

The flag jumps to attention. The mailbox shakes.

Wiping tears from my face, I open it. Cold seeps from the blackness inside. My chest aches as I fight to breathe. My trembling hand is drawn into the opening as if I have no say, no control.

My fingers wrap around a solid, icy form, cold as death. Light glints off the blade as I pull the knife from the box. A piece of paper flutters to the ground. Sobs creep along my shoulders as I gaze at the note’s fiery red letters.

Finish what you started. Hell waits.

End

Anyone expecting a letter?

Change… Bring it On!

Tags

anxiety, change, home improvement, panic, puppy, thoughts, writing

We’re getting a puppy!

My life will be forever changed, and, for a while, it will be utter chaos. That’s just what I need… said no one ever.

We’ve had a dog and the work it requires, especially at first,  makes my head hurt.

I hate change. I love how my life has settled into comfortable ease. Knowing what will happen each day brings me peace. Seriously, the rut I have created is deep. I like it here.

Panic and anxiety dig their claws into my heart. What are we doing? A puppy? *clings to my routine*

But…

Hubs told me long ago he wanted a dog. We moved out to the country so he could have land for a dog. The kids want a dog and are ready to help. It’s time. I agreed.

It was a choice. Most changes are. We can prepare for them. Make a plan, which will immediately fail and more panic will ensue, but I can hope.

We are also putting in a fireplace. As soon as the air cooled, hubs remembered last winter and, well, he hates the cold. So the family room is a mess. I can handle it… *breathes* Again, it was a choice.

Not all change is chosen. Sometimes things just happen and can bring excitement or complete and utter fear. It’s those moments that really play with our minds and emotions.

Recently, I have been drawn to writing horror. Wait… what? I have been a fantasy girl FOREVER. I read horror. I love horror, but I could never write it. No way.

Maybe way. My horror short stories have done okay. I like them. It seems that my writing style works with the genre. Cool! I’m excited, because I am going to do a bit of research and write a NA horror manuscript. I am also scared out of my mind. Time to climb out of my comfy rut.

It’s good for me… right?

The family room is a construction zone… *resists urge to clean ALL THE TIME*

I will introduce a puppy to my four cats and a new home, away from his mom and litter-mates, and attempt to train him.

My short stories call for attention and Japanese myths and demons draw me to learn more about them.

Here I go! *pulls self out of rut* *wipes sweat and dirt from my eyes*

Change is scary, for me anyway, but it isn’t the end of the world. So many changes have happened in my life and have brought me here. Here is good -a bit wibbly-wobbly from time to time, but I like it. I have faith. Whatever the Universe brings, either what I choose or what chooses me, I will be better for it, stronger, unstoppable.

Anyone else have to climb out of their rut recently?

The Power to End Bullying

Tags

bullying, kids, school, strength, thoughts

Bullies suck. Being bullied sucks. It can end when their power is taken.

This sounds easy, but it won’t be.

I was talking to my mom the other day and she told me a story about my 10 year old niece. One day, she came home from school in tears. She had been a part of a group of kids and was given the job of going to the board to write something. Well, she is not a great speller and handwriting is not her thing. When she finished, the rest of her group laughed at her and told her what she had done was terrible and they couldn’t even read it.

Mom told her that maybe next time she should let her group know that spelling and writing aren’t her strong points and that she should request a different job. Turn the other cheek? Avoid confrontation?

Anger flared through me.

NO! She should have turned to them and said, “Stop. I’m not very good at this, but I did my best and don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

I went on in my rant… going on and on about kids saying things without thinking, but someone has to let them know it’s not okay. Never let anyone do or say anything that changes how you view yourself, that takes your power from you.

Mom paused and said, “That would have been the perfect thing to say to her.”

As a kid, I was the tallest girl in my class, a quiet goodie-two-shoes. Hello, the butt of every joke. If only someone had told me to tell those kids to knock it off. If only someone had stepped up to stop them, showing me what power is. I let them take my power. I sank further into the darkness of self-doubt and low self-esteem because of words, some goofy kids’ words. And I never told anyone.

Schools have anti-bullying assemblies. My kids have come home with coloring pages and T-shirts. But I think what really hit them was when I repeated told them…

If someone says something that makes you feel bad, tell them to stop and not with tears, but with power.

If you see someone saying or doing mean things to another kid, you go over there and stop it.

If I ever learn that you have said or done anything that hurt someone else, your life will end.

Sounds extreme? Maybe. But my son gained his first best friend when he stood up for him at school in kindergarten.

Teachers have enough to worry about. They can’t see everything that happens, they can’t be responsible for every action of every child.

I have heard stories of parents going to the school complaining that their child is being bullied and the school won’t do anything. They can’t take one child’s word over the other. They can’t.

My little examples are nothing compared to what goes on out there, but name calling is common. Kids are mean. They don’t think, they just speak. Maybe they hear their parents talk about people, maybe its TV… but in the end, kids just don’t understand the power of their words. Parents, teach them about their self worth.

Empower the kids. They can stop the bullying. Strong kids will become strong adults.

 

Critique Partner Powers Activate!

Tags

CP, critiques, helpful, share smiles, sparking ideas, thoughts, writing

After my huge writing fest last month, this month I have focused a bit on the work of others. Because being a writer means so much more than writing words. There is research. There is reading. But there is also critiquing.

Commenting on friends’ stories always made me nervous. Please, I could barely put down words of my own, what could I possibly say to help someone else? The more I do it, the more I love it. Critiquing has become one of my favorite things. I have a list of e-mail addresses of people I have sent my work to and who have sent me theirs. Whenever a tweet appears asking for a CP, I used to jump on it, but now, I hold myself back from replying… PICK ME! SEND ME ALL THE WORDS! Like I said, I have a list. I finished a friend’s ms not long ago (wow was that one fun!). I have a chapter to read in my inbox NOW! Eeeekk! (only because I have read it before and really liked it) Recently, I finished rereading a first chapter for a new writer, who wants ALL THE HELP. He’ll get there, but I do feel sorry for cramming the knowledge I have gained in ten years into his one chapter.

No matter how much I love it, I can’t do it for everyone. My brain would explode. Ew.

Critiques are funny beasts, strange and wild. They take time and thought and mostly my brain feels wonky when I get done.

I am honest with what I say, but always try to make my comments helpful. Then I send back the manuscript, covered in all my opinions, and wait. A ‘thank you’ might be returned before they fall off my radar. A few have never spoken to me again. There are a handful that send me more words, who tell me how great my feedback is and how it helps them find what’s missing or sparks an idea on how to fix a problem they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

THIS, people, THIS makes my day.

Critique styles are different for everyone. I am more of a write down ALL of my thoughts on everything… what doesn’t make sense to me, any questions that pop into my head, anything I want the writer to know, but also I mark lines I love, places where the description really grabs me. My comments can be scary and they aren’t for everyone. Finding CPs is a process, like real life (I know, BAD WORD) we all have to find what works for us as individuals.

I critique the way I want to be critiqued. I want every thought because you never know what will lead to that fabulous idea that will add extra layers of awesome to the work. I tell every person I have ever critiqued to take what speaks to them… to focus on the comments that set the wheels spinning and forget the rest. They are, after all, opinions that sprout from my strange and scary mind, and, in the end, it’s their story.

Critiques can hurt, if you let them. Maybe we should all shove a bit more pride in our souls, raise the bar of self-confidence, and believe in what we do. All the manuscripts and stories I have written, they’re mine. I wrote them. No one else in the Universe could have done it quite like me.

Whether that’s good or bad is yet to be seen.

Go forth and spread all your wonderfulness! You never know… you might make someone’s day.

The Silence of Inspiration

Tags

ideas, inspiration, life paths, limbo, thoughts, writing

I stand at the edge of a cliff… staring out at space.

See all those points of light? That’s what’s happening in my head. All the possibilities of what I can do next… story ideas, new manuscripts, old manuscripts… not one screaming any louder than the rest. What do I do? Where do I go?

I wish a path would appear before me… calm, inviting, one that fits just right…

I don’t have to be able to see the end, but somewhere solid to place my feet. Or heck…

Even a tougher climb, but a clear way to go. (And I have in real life made this hike… to the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park, Utah, if you haven’t been there… GO! You don’t have to climb this, but it’s gorgeous there. And yes you hike along that ridge.)

Imma just hangin out in limbo… waiting for a few rejections… in the aftermath of pitchwars…

I have a goal to post a story on wattpad… going to do that. But first I must peruse all my semi-complete stories. I’ll do a bit of CPing, because I love it.

There’s a MG fantasy, a NA horror, NA fantasy, possible revisions for my YA fantasy Doors, and a sequel to Doors swirling in my head. A complete YA magical realism manuscript waits for revisions… a (very old) YA fantasy in rough draft stage lurks in my computer.

I am having mucho fun writing horror lately.

I will start to research a few things and see if I can’t spark interest in my brain, which is strangely calm considering. Japanese myths and demons tug at my brain for that horror idea. The land of No Where for my MG sounds interesting too. Maybe I can get those gray-cells going, create a path out of the nothing. I do love creating. Waiting for inspiration to speak up might push me into panic. How long can I putter around before, well…

Or hubs finally tells me to GET A REAL JOB!

Anyone else out there floating about in limbo? Why is inspiration so quiet?

*feeds inspiration chocolate*

 

Achievement Unlocked!

Tags

accomplishments, busy, deadlines, goals, thoughts

Hello, September!

A month ago, I stared out at August and nearly fell over at the list waiting for me to complete it. Personal goals. Writing deadlines. Scheduled events. Holy mind-blowing adventures, friends!

I posted my first book review on my blog last month. I finished edits for two stories that will appear in the upcoming Reuts anthology. I wrote a story for the upcoming haunted house showcase for the Pen and Muse blog. I finished revising Doors (again) and sent it off to pitchwars. My Doors query looks better than ever. I critiqued a couple of stories and a MG manuscript for friends.

My daughter celebrated her 12th birthday this month. A new Dr. Who arrived.

What a month.

And I survived. Actually, I thrived. Sure panic threatened to consume my mortal soul, but my crazy, magical weirdness kept it at bay. Writing is my life. I want it to be my life forever. The challenge was met and conquered. My productivity last month gives me reason to smile.

I am lazy at heart. Procrastination is my spec-ee-al-ity… (as said in voice of little old man from Neverending Story, you know the one that observes the Oracle?).

As much as I doubt my talent, it is my talent and I came out of this month with some pretty darn good (and creepy) words. By golly.

Now… pitchwars mentees are announced on Wednesday. I don’t expect to be chosen, but am interested in who is. I love to cheer on my friends.

And then there is this feeling swirling deep in my mind. My words are out there, waiting for judgement. Something lurks in the near future, forming in the unknown. When it all come together, what will it bring. Pain? Joy? Both?

So through my new calm I have discovered after completing ALL THE THINGS, anxiety buzzes in my head. For now I’m good. Suddenly, I’m not in the kitchen looking for food every two minutes. Yes, last month there was much comfort eating. I am not ashamed.

For everyone out there, working towards deadlines and goals, you got this! For those of us enjoying the calm after the storm, remember, more storms will arrive. Hopefully, all the chaos brings joy, a sense of accomplishment, even with the moments of panic and tears.

Carry on!