I have anxiety issues. Bad ones. I am a constant worrier. I’ve had panic attacks for years. My husband suggested a long time ago that I try to “Zen it.” I know that sounds rather disrespectful, but it’s not.
What he meant was that I needed to quit thinking about everything all at once. I needed to think about only one thing at a time and leave the rest for another time. He would say, “Worry about it from 8 am to 5 pm because you can’t do anything about when you can’t do anything about it.”
Easy for him to say. But I tried because he asked me too.
Years have passed.
I can now for the most part think only about my problems when I can do something about them, except that I am a plan ahead kind of girl so I’m always thinking ahead. I really do try to only think about what I’m doing now and now worry about things looming in my future.
There is a disadvantage to only thinking about what I’m doing now. My imagination has been caged. I used to alway be thinking and pretending and imagining. Not really any more. Some would say that it’s just because I’ve grown up. I don’t believe that. Growing up has nothing to do with imagination. I believe it is because I’m so focused on the now that I became too grounded in reality. I’ve readjusted my brain to think in a new way but now I’m suffering an overdose of reality.
I want to daydream again. I’m finding it really hard to concentrate on my writing too because it is not a task that can only be thought about when you are doing it. Writing is an ethereal beast that must be always on your mind. When you aren’t writing you must be planning and plotting. You must be working out what could happen and rearranging what you did to fit what you will do. There is nothing Zen about that part. Zen is only helpful when you are actually doing the writing, the sitting and typing part.
So I guess that I need to learn to wield the Zen double edged sword a little better. I need to learn to compartmentalize my thoughts. Zen the day to day and unleash the imagination beast to run wild in the meadows of my mind. Sounds pretty straightforward and easy right?
Maybe in a few more years…..
Just been psychotically busy! Spent November NaNoWriMo, a community theatre production of A Christmas Tuna, school concert, parent teacher conferences, meetings at school, sick kids, and a short visit from my husband. All in all there were only four days in the whole month were nothing was scheduled. It was insane.
I managed to build the entire set almost completely on my own. The play was a success even though it was harrowing each performance wondering if the guys would remember their lines.
Then I was only able to devote 16 days total to writing for NaNoWriMo. I didn’t think is make it but I did. I hit a little above 50,000 words. Kinda blew my mind! Guess I have what it takes to really write for deadlines.
I’m so glad the month is over! Now I have to catch up on all the things I didn’t do like cleaning. Haha!
I hope to get back to blogging, but maybe not a often. I still have to finish up writing the book I started for NaNoWriMo. I want to devote the majority of my writing time to my novels. But I won’t forget my blog. Promise!
Last year about this time I was freaking out because I was going to embark on an insane venture…NaNoWriMo.
National Novel Writing Month. It’s writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Everyone said it was intense and hard, only a few actually make it. Well I thought, “What the Hell I’ll try it.”
For days before I was feverishly planning and setting up buddy lists to help me through it. I was going to need encouragement and sometimes a kick in the butt. I was so nervous for Nov 1st that I hardly slept. Then I started. Within a couple of days I was past 5,000 words. This wasn’t so hard. I diligently sat typing every day. My kids and husband encouraged me and occasionally would chase me back to the computer with the threat of a squirt bottle. Weirdly enough I finished with days to spare. Hit just over 50,000 words. It wasn’t that hard.
This year I have been loafing around working at an actual job to make this stupid thing called money. All the time I’ve been asking myself why I was wasting my time when I could be writing. Well, everyone is finally sick of me moping around and have told me to basically “quit my day job” and write.
So here I am only a day before NaNo starts and I haven’t planned, stressed or even logged in yet! But I have whole year to make up for. Its time to write! I’m not stressed like I was last year. I am actually barely thinking about the pressure. Although this year I don’t have the luxury of my husband taking care of things while I write since he is gone for work and I am involved in a local theatre production that will be taking up a lot of my time. So I’m gonna have to actually hustle this time. It might be a struggle but it’ll be worth it even if I don’t make it (I will make it though, have to think positive).
A bird can’t help but fly, a fish can’t help but swim, a writer can’t help but write. So NaNoWriMo here I come! Continue reading
When I think back to my childhood, I realize that I was always writing even without paper. I remember coming up with ridiculously intricate narratives as I went about my daily playing.
I know that most kids do that and it is simply imagination. However, I used to play out the scene I was imagining and if it wasn’t quite right I would start over. I remember playing the same scenario over and over until it worked out perfectly. Even if it was only a single line it word.
Needless to say I didn’t play well with others. They said it was just me being picky or a perfectionist. I know different now.
I also remember playing with my GI Joes and Star Wars toys. (This was the 70s and early 80s). I realized that it was more trouble to set them up and play than it was to just set them out and play it out in my head.
Now I play out entire plots and subplots in my head. Which is a good thing because I have barely any time to actually sit down and write it out.
I just know that everything that I have done has brought me to this point and I have learned more in the last year than I have in the ten before it. A year ago I knew nothing of author platforms or Wattpad or even NaNoWriMo and now look at me… I have a website, readership following on Wattpad, a social network as a writer, and a stack of rejection letters. Who knew I could get this far? Fulfilling a destiny is painful and hard but totally worth it.
I took a hot bath last night trying to sooth some aching muscles. As I soaked it noticed that I had been joined by a floating piece of fuzz. I could have been from the carpet or a sock it was hard to say. For lack of any other entertainment I watched it as it floated around in the water. It bobbed just below the surface never quite reaching the air. It swirled and drifted wherever the current took it. Lost in a vast sea of hot water. It never quite made it to “landfall” either every time it would float close to the side of the tub or my leg it would hover just out of reach like there was some kind of barrier keeping it from reaching that anchor.
I watched it for a long time and then tried to catch it and help it on its way to “dry land” but it eluded me with what seemed like determination. Eventually the bath drained and the little piece of fuzz had stubbornly stayed in the tub. It finally managed to cling the surface and was left behind when the water tried to carry it down the drain.
It made me lonely. Then I realized this was a visual metaphor for our destinies.
We float and drift where the current takes us so near to what we think we want but never quite making it. Then we sabotage ourselves by resisting the help that others try to give us certain that we can do it on our own. Always sure that we know what is best for us. Without help we will always be floating with an invisible barrier between us and where we could be.
Don’t just float waiting for help you won’t accept! Paddle! Paddle for all you are worth and make landfall! Accept help whenever you can! No man is an island…nor is he a lone piece of floating fuzz.
When you are in the shower spouting off the most eloquent scene, spinning it into the perfect fit for your next chapter, then you get out to jot it down and…
You have no idea what any of the sentences were!
Does anyone else ever look at something ordinary and think, “Wow! that would be a cool setting for a story!”
Or is it just me?
An hour long car trip. You don’t have to drive. You don’t have to monitor your teen driver. You have nothing to do but sit back and write…
YOU FORGOT TO REPACK YOUR NOTEBOOK WHEN YOU SWITCHED BACKPACKS!
I’ll be the first to admit I’m lost. I always have been.
Ever since I was a little kid I have wanted to be too many things. I’ve never been one to know my path. I always wished I could’ve been a kid who was obsessed with one thing like helping people so I would become a doctor or a kid who built things so I could be an engineer. But I’m not.
I want to be everything. I wanna be an astronaut, jet pilot, a deep sea diver, a scientist, an artist, a sculptor, a decorator, a martial arts guru, a translator for the United Nations, a revolutionary, and of course a cowboy.
Unfortunately I’m not any of those things.
I’m a mom and a wanna be writer. Granted, yes, I write but that doesn’t mean I’m a writer. If no one reads what I write then what am I? A child still playing at parts?
Playing at parts is why I believe I’m good at writing. Empathy and perspective are key pieces to all writers. People come up to me all the time and start telling me random intimate things about their lives. I used to think that it meant I should be a psychologist but now I believe it means I should be a writer. So many insights can’t be bad.
Now if I could only find the right road to travel. Following everyone else’s path isn’t really working. Maybe I’m not far enough along in my journey and I’m just being impatient. Or maybe I truly am lost and I should be finding a different way. I wish now more than anything that I was someone who knew what they were supposed to be doing.
I often feel bad after making a purchase. It’s called buyer’s guilt.
Now I find I suffer from a similar feeling when I upload a story, or enter a writing contest. So do we call it publishing grief? And more importantly does it ever go away?