Facing the Real Fear

Tags

facing fear, failing, fear, fearing success, rejections, thoughts, writing

I’m not a believer in writer’s block, in some unseen force sent from another dimension that magically holds our creativity hostage.

I do believe that writers can block themselves.

No mystical energy is stopping the words. We are. The question is…why?

Why do we sit in front of the computer, in front of a blank notebook and stare? Why can’t we write words?

Did we forget how?

Nope.

Do we not want to?

Nope.

Is our well of story ideas empty?

Nope.

It’s no secret that I am struggling with the words. I know why.

Fear.

I have decided to query agents with this manuscript. An agent. My entire writing career has been me not querying agents because I firmly believe no agent will sign me. I’m not good enough.

So to have these specific plans for this book, pretty much destroys any self-confidence I ever had. Why finish it when I’m going to fail? It will never be good enough. I can’t create the perfect thing in my head on the page. If I can’t reach this perfection, I should just give up.

But let’s look at the real fear here. Because it’s not the thought of failure. Someone at my writers’ group uttered a phrase, one I’ve heard, one I believe, one I had forgotten.

People fear success. What do we have if we reach our dreams? Where do we go from there?

I fear this manuscript will be good enough. I fear an agent offering rep. I fear the world I don’t know, one where I am not searching for the path I want to tread, but am walking it.

A few years ago I signed a manuscript with a small press and with the excitement came panic. I don’t know how to be an author with a published book. I don’t know what that means. I still don’t, but I realize that not a lot of people do. We learn as we go.

Maybe that world isn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll find my way there.

Instead of fearing setting foot on the path I dreamed about for so long, instead of striving for a perfection that isn’t attainable, I am going to do my best. I’m not a terrible writer, I do okay. This book idea is pretty cool. If an agent doesn’t like it…I’ll carry on with another dream.

Though that isn’t the fear, is it? The failing, the rejections. It’s that offer that’s scary. It’s that I am good enough. It’s living in a world I don’t know.

It’s okay to be scared. It’s not okay to run from your dreams because of the fear.

Look it in the eye.

And write the words.

Memories are Magic

Tags

losing a pet, saying good-bye to my cat, thoughts

A week ago I struggled with thoughts that I might have to put my oldest cat to sleep. On Tuesday I called the vet and said good-bye to Delphi.

It was a bad week.

As much as it hurt to let her go, it was the right thing to do.

The vet said something that stuck with me. As we decide what to do with these treasured floofs, we need to look at their lives, we need to remember what they loved. We need to look at how many of those things they have lost. And maybe leave them one of those happy things and let them go out on a good day. Don’t let them end with suffering.

As I look back on my cat’s life, I did that.

I found Delphi while at work at a nursery/landscape place while staking Delphiniums (hence her name). I brought her home when she was two months old in June of 1998. Yes, kids, she was with me for 19 and a half years. She was a few months shy of turning 20 years old. Not many cats make it that long. She had a good long life.

When I first got her, she really wanted to go outside, but living in a city, I fought hard to keep her in. I chased her many days.

She was feisty, a bit mean to any other pet I brought in the house. She loved my lap and to sleep by me at night.

Then her life was interrupted by kids.

She was never fond of the little devils. She would scratch and bite to keep those pesky kids away from her. My daughter learned a hard lesson to leave that cat alone. However, with me occupied with small children, Delphi learned that she could get outside and stay there. I had no time to chase her down. By this time we had moved to the county, a bit less traffic and a wooded area across the street and a field behind us for her to roam and hunt. Delphi became quite a hunter. So many dead animals were found on our sidewalk and yard.

Delphi loved to be outside, sleeping in the sun or stalking her prey. She lost that joy long ago, I can’t remember the last time she had been outside.

No more hunting, no more roaming the great outdoors, she stayed in and as the years passed she kept to the kitchen and living room. No more sleeping upstairs with me.

She had no interest in toys anymore. She would still take a swipe at the dog or other cat, but mostly she had little energy for that feistiness.

I’m not sure how well she could see. Her balance was gone. Her joints creaked and cracked. And she started peeing on the couch.

Over the last few years, you could find her curled up on the kitchen chair, on the arm of the couch, or on a lap. If you had a plate, she was more than willing to lick it clean. Mostly she fought for her space between me and my laptop.

She had laps at the end. And if you had a moment to rub her cheeks, she was happy.

As I said good-bye in that sterile vet office, I rubbed her cheeks and told her I would never forget her. She never had to know many trips to the doctor, needles, medication, or pain. She would remember love.

I will remember that tiny kitten I found at work that day, how I decided that if she was there when I got back from vacation I would take her home. I will remember how she would sit on my pregnant belly and look annoyed when the baby moved. I will remember her racing to get outside to begin an adventure. I will remember her asleep in my son’s crib. I will remember her furry self curled up on my lap…in the way of me trying to type. I will remember her purr as I pet her.

I will never forget my Delphi, my companion for 19 and a half years. Always there. Always glad to see me.

Good-bye, Delphi. I will see you again. And wherever you are, I hope there’s a warm lap. I will hold tight to my memories of you.

 

That Would be Me, Slogging Through the Mess

Tags

critiquing, getting stuck in the manuscript, thoughts, writing, writing is a mess, writing woes

Writing has become…difficult. I have reached the point in the process where I’m pretty sure I am not creating the story I want, I am not doing anything good with words. I am stuck in the middle of a story and I have no idea what I’m doing.

And however normal this is for me…I am panicking. I admit it. It took me a while to realize it, but a big ole chunk of fear and doubt has lodged in my head. Usually I just keep writing, see where it goes, but this time I stopped. I set it aside.

I got out a notebook and started brainstorming, certain I needed to work something out. I didn’t know everything I was supposed to know. Right?

Maybe…

Or maybe not.

I’m not even sure anymore.

Luckily, I had a few people ask me to read their manuscripts. DING DING DING! A way to escape/ignore my own words. So I am critiquing, aka burying my head in the words of others to avoid my own. Don’t get me wrong. I love critiquing. I love helping other writers.

It’s part of the job.

Let my mess of a manuscript sit for a minute. Let the jumbled storyline settle. Let my mind wander away from the frustration it has become. When I go back, hopefully, I’ll be able to let go of the overthinking and have fun with Ember and Nowhere. Back to slogging through, though we won’t call it slogging…right? Frolicking. Running amok through the words.

I rock at running amok.

And for the moment, I shall rock at making comments as a critique partn…

Oh wait…no…

I forgot. The author I am reading for now has dubbed his army of readers CRITIQUE AVENGERS. We are the elite fighting force, out looking for questionable word choices, places where there is no sense making, and the dreaded, hidden plot holes. So I shall do that for now.

But my words still haunt me.

So, yes, that’s me up to my hips in a story that might make no sense, that might be going nowhere, that might spontaneously combust…

That’s me.

And it’s okay.

 

Put the YOU in Routine

Routines are good. I believe in them. However, sometimes the routine becomes safe and comforting and bad habits can be the result. Sometimes the routine needs a bit of change. Shake things up. Throw out the habits that drag you down.

I have recently decided to do a little shaking in the daily routine. It’s exciting. So I decided. Yup. I thought of all the things I can change. I plotted out what I thought might be a good daily schedule, a great schedule, a schedule that will rocket me into the land of super productivity.

Then I struggled. Because I didn’t stick to the new plan. A plan I was certain would be THE BEST.

Or not.

So I panic. I am failing. I can’t even follow a plan! Geez, me.

But…

Maybe it isn’t me. Maybe it’s the plan. Maybe that schedule isn’t right for me. So I’m going to hold onto the parts of the plan I like, that make me feel good, that give me energy and motivation. But…planning never works for me, and I forget that. I have to be able to go with the flow. I have to be able to accept when my brain isn’t switched to the correct gear and do what I need to do in the moment.

If the routine causes stress, it’s no good. If the routine steals your happiness, it’s no good. Routines should help, should be comforting as well as get me off my butt. I am a procrastinator. I do need time for me to do nothing. I need to give myself room to change directions when my mind isn’t on the right track.

Know you. Know what you need. Be able to spot the things that don’t work and let them go without feeling like a failure.

As long as I listen to me, I will be on the right track. Shaking things up is good. But keep expectations realistic. Keep trying. Keep making those plans, those routines and stick to it. But when something is causing problems, is being more stress than help, let it go.

It’s not you. It’s the routine. Keep you in there. Your life doesn’t work without you.

And let’s be honest.

You. Are. Wonderful. Amazing. Awesome.

New Year, New…You?

Tags

be you, goals, happiness, new year, thoughts

New year, new you!

I’ve heard this a lot. Every January 1st.

It’s a nice thought. That we can head into the new year and just…be someone else. Suddenly do things differently.

Though each year, I find that I am still the same old me. The same fears and doubts. The same bad habits. The same crazy, weirdness all wrapped up in moments of anxiety and depression and fun. The same girl living in a world asking it to love her…OMG I WENT ALL NOTTING HILL.

Save me.

I look back on last year and I guess I did stuff. I wrote stuff. I submitted stuff. I feel as though I was holding my breath. Did I accomplish every thing I wanted? Nope.

As I head into this year, I will write stuff. Maybe hear about the stuff I submitted. Still be the weird me who overthinks and forgets to just be. Maybe I will stop holding my breath. Maybe.

I will have moments where I AM DOING SO GOOD LOOK AT ME.

I will have moments where I SUCK AND I AM A FAILURE AND OMG WHAT AM I DOING WHO AM I.

New me? Nope. Just me. But being me is fine. I am working on making me better every day.

Resolutions? Goals?

Not really. They never work for me. They feel like weights around my neck, holding me down instead of setting me free. I want to remember to enjoy myself. I want to make me a bit better every day. And the days where I can’t? Those are okay.

One breath at a time.

I have things I want to do. I will do my best. And when I am pretty sure I am not doing my best, that I could do so much more if only this and I should that, I will remind myself that the ‘if only’s’ and ‘shoulds’ can go jump in a river. Those will hold me back. Those will steal my happiness.

Life is nothing without happy. Stress comes and goes. Fear is a liar. Happy is forever.

New year, new me?

New year…and me, along for the ride, ready to move forward however I can with my hands in the air and a smile on my face.