When the Magic Began

Tags

Believe, celebrate, life struggle, magic, revising, thoughts, writing

Ten years.

Ten years ago I announced that I wanted to write a book. And I did.

The joy. The fear. The overwhelming emotions of finally discovering what you want to do with your life, what you’re meant to be.

And I had two kids at the fabulous ages of two and three. I didn’t need to pay attention to them. Pfft.

But I was also 31 years-old and ready to be me, to find my passion. Life as a mom was great, but I wanted more.

Back then I had no idea what it took to write a book, well, writing it was easy, finding out that you have to edit it four hundred times and then trying to get it published would threaten to destroy my soul.

With several finished manuscripts, short stories, and a brain full of ideas, I know I chose the right path. Writing, making up stuff is what I love.

I want to celebrate the years of learning, of discovering a lot more courage buried deep within me than I ever thought possible. Any artist who has offered their work to the world, braving the critiques and rejections for those moments of acceptance, deserves to be celebrated.

Maybe I’ll bake a cake. I like cake.

Ten years ago, the magic began. Who knows how far I will get. My stories have done okay. I am working on getting a book published. Will it happen? I honestly don’t know. I can do the work, revise, write, listen to comments. I can control where to send queries. I can’t control whether or not my voice and my stories connect with agents or publishers and I will try not to let that affect me.

Even though sometimes it does. Even though there are times I want to quit, seconds where I stop believing. But the stories never lose hope, because they keep talking to me, forming in my mind.

So I write what speaks to me, what lives in my heart.

I love what I do. I will keep doing it, forever searching for that someday when someone else loves it too.

I will not worry about what I can’t control. The market. What people read. What agents want to see. All that will keep me from being me, from finding true joy.

To all of us out there struggling to find our place in the world (not just writing) I raise a big glass of chocolate milk.

To us! Be happy in the life you have chosen and don’t let the great, unforgiving world steal your joy.

Just be.

 

To Be or Not to Be … Me

Tags

Being you, fiction, in-laws, individuality, life struggle, living life, thoughts, writing

Do you have a mask you present to the world? Are there moments when being you just doesn’t work?

For me … yes.

Does it suck?

Yes.

Sometimes smiling and nodding is easier.

I have returned from spring break. Every year we go to my parents’ house and then my in-laws. I have a great time visiting with my parents, my sisters, nieces, brothers-in-law! We laugh, we chat, we eat! Then we get to my in-laws …

Do you know the painting ‘American Gothic’? You know … the one with the old man and woman farmers with pitchforks? That would be my in-laws. No kidding. I put them in the category of opposite of me. They watch the news and discuss all the things wrong with the world. It’s a bit depressing really.

Blah.

I long to add sparkle and laughter, but whenever I try, they don’t hear it. I learned a long time ago that when they ask questions they want simple answers, no stories, no deep thoughts. So I tuck who I am away in my head and wait for them to address me. When they do, I give short answers. When my father-in-law goes on a rant about all the bad things I smile and nod.

They don’t know me. If I did say ALL THE THINGS, they wouldn’t like me. So I exist as their son’s wife, the mother of their grandkids.

Aaaaaand I’m pretty sure they think I should get a real job. Writing is not.

They don’t do fiction. They don’t read books. They don’t like art. They like the news and reality shows with way too much yelling where people chop down trees or hunt for gold.

They’ll never know …

The news depresses me. I am not interested in how many deaths have occurred because of swimming pools (we have a pool and they like us to know they are not fans), and most of all I don’t want to be covered in sad, dark thoughts.

They’ll never know …

I believe in fairies, magic, and ghosts. My mind is full of everything wondrous and creepy … ideas, stories, characters, and worlds. I can write, maybe not brilliant, but pretty darn good. I can draw too.

They’ll never know the real me. And that’s how it is.

They’re missing out on life by focusing on the negative. Sure, knowing me and all my quirks and opinions will not make their life complete, but they will miss the smiles and magic I share. So everything that really makes me me … stays hidden when I’m with them. I don’t want to be judged. I don’t want to be lectured.

I want to BE.

So around them I am a shadow of me. They have no idea what I think. They have no idea who I am.

They are missing all my awesome. I can’t share my wonderfully different view of the world with them because they can’t, or won’t, see it.

I am guilty of always saying … just be you! And I believe that. And now when I am finally really comfortable being me, I hold back at times. Maybe being me around people who just won’t get me isn’t worth it.

Anyone else wear a mask? Are there people who will never know who you really are?

Believe

Tags

Believing, Bridge to Terabithia, dreams, illustrating, life struggle, self doubt, writing

“You’ve got to keep your mind wide open, all the possibilities. You’ve got to live with your eyes open, believe in what you see.”
From the soundtrack to ‘The Bridge to Terabithia’

Not only a great movie, but a wonderful book all about one of my favorite words … believing.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is believe in yourself. I am struggling with this right now. Why? Fear.

Self doubt is rising, threatening to drown me. This is not new. I’ve been here before, haven’t we all?

I have a fabulous chance to do something I’ve always dreamed to do … have one of my drawings in a book, adding to the writer’s wonderful words. This is why I studied art in college!
They would love to use my talent, but my drawings do not translate well. The edges need to be better defined. Do I have experience with Photoshop?

No. Oh good heavens … you want me to experiment with technology?

Luckily, my hubs has the program on his work computer, limiting when I can use it, but it is there. So I stared at the screen and all the little symbols. I read tutorials, but … whut? … is this written in English?

So … I did something. The drawings look different. Am I going to be able to do this? I don’t know. I wait for hubs to get home so we can try again, so I can e-mail something … because I HAVE TO TRY, TO GIVE IT EVERYTHING. I need this.
Since I failed Photoshop, I decided to create more defined edges by adding ink to my drawing. Late last night, I fought back a wave of fear … AM I TOTALLY MESSING UP ONE OF MY FAVORITE DRAWINGS?

Ug.

On top of it editing my WIP is going slower than I thought it would. Believe it or not … this manuscript’s theme is believing. *headdesk*

What I hoped would be fun has turned into a monster with claws. Is the little I figured out on Photoshop enough to make my drawing something they can use? Is this dream going to come true?

I need a box of cookies.

I keep bursting out into tears.

I can’t focus.

I’m trying to keep my mind open … believing is magic. But in this moment, it feels out of reach.
Cross your fingers, kids, as I continue my adventure into the unknown.