Confession time: I haven’t known how to say everything I need to say. Pretty soon I’ll be rebranding the blog with a stronger focus on social media, writing, and editing. But now and then, I’ll still have some emo to share.
And starting two weeks ago it kept me company at the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference.
Blue Ridge Ready
Since returning, my peeps have been asking me to share stories with them. What was it like? Who did I meet with? Did I pick up new clients? What are my favorite memories? How hard was it to come home this year?
First, let me say this, as I’m sure most, if not all, at Blue Ridge would agree:
It was life changing.
As for the rest of it . . . It’s taken me a week to remember. To be able to talk about it. To share it authentically, and even then I’ve yet to do a complete job.
Because this year at Blue Ridge was a hard one for me. This year, God grabbed me at the beginning and said, “This is where the healing starts.”
When Healing Hurts
Last year, Blue Ridge was new and inviting and full of connections and adventure. This year, some of my peeps couldn’t make it. This year I had the room to myself, and at the end of the busy days, I went into solitude.
From the first night away, I had bouts of anxiety. And I missed the FurFamily. Every few hours I was certain I just needed to pack it up and head home early. But who wants to admit that, at what amounts to a family reunion? These things are supposed to be fun, carefree. Not, “I need a hand to hold just so I know I have someone holding my hand” kind of moments. Right?
And the conference, well, it’s for writers, not whiners. So I sucked it up. Or so I thought. The thing is with me, and if you’ve hung around my blog for any length of time, you already know this: I’m a bit of a crier.
So there I am. At Blue Ridge and I’m overwhelmed with the responsibility to prove that I’m worth the collective efforts it took to get me there. And I want to make the most of it. And I’m afraid of letting people down. And I’m afraid of not gleaning every ounce I’m supposed to. And I’m missing my best friend who I met there last year.
And the hurts and struggles and trials of the last few years that have nothing to do with Blue Ridge or writing, they rise like cackles on the back of my neck. They surface, they grab for my attentions. They fight their way into every waking thought. They don’t even belong at Blue Ridge! But they don’t care. Stupid emotions!
And I feel misunderstood. Forgotten. Put down. Cast aside.
Worthless.
I. Am. A. Fraud.
Cloud of Negativity
Which is exactly what the enemy wants us to think, especially at a place like Blue Ridge, right? We’re not supposed to learn how to write for God, how to bring His message into the world, or think we’re worth the effort.
Right?
Wrong.
As difficult as it is, I celebrate the hard emotions. Sure, they were a distraction. A huge distraction. And when I say huge, well . . . Let me take you to Wednesday morning Group Meeting. Filled with people I know and love, but very few I felt connected to. So in a room of over 400 people, as I sat in the very back row between two of the ones I trust the most, the music starts. The worship music. The open-your-heart-to-God-and-let-it-go music. The it’s-too-painful-to-listen-to music. And for an hour, I cried. I just cried. Through the music, the announcements, the keynote speaker. I couldn’t stop biting my lip as the tears raced. I’m not exaggerating.
It was excruciating. And yet, now . . . I can see beauty coming from it.
I began to glimpse the bigger picture.
Blue Ridge isn’t just about learning to be a better writer. Of course it is that, but not just that. It’s also connections. Not just professional, either.
Me with the Ketchup Man – James L. Rubart
I was lucky enough to meet this guy, James L. Rubart. We’re going to be great friends, and he’s even forgiven me for saying he uses too much ketchup.
Aaron, Alycia and I are now known as “The Sibs”. We’re the siblings who weren’t born to the same family, but Blue Ridge brings us together every year.
The Sibs at Blue Ridge: Molly Jo Realy, Aaron Gansky, Alycia Morales
Blue Ridge is where I was able to meet face to face with some of our loyal Firsts in Fiction podcast viewers. Like Bruce, who took it upon himself to Big Brother me and grab me for prayer whenever we passed in the halls. And get this – one of the last minute conferees came all the way from Australia because he heard about it on the podcast. How’s that for connections?
When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to be all things to all people all the time (I know. You’d think I’d learned that one by now. But hey. Work in progress, here, okay?), when I gave myself permission to fail, it was like giving myself permission to grow. I opted instead to do what I could for myself, not the world at large. Because being better to and for myself is better for the world at large. Yes?
Removing the parameters of perfection opened me. It was okay to tell others “I’m not okay right now.” It was okay to miss a few minutes of class and grab coffee with the Seesta. It was okay to sit in a corner, or in the front row. It was okay to say, “No,” or “Not now,” or just “Catch me later.”
And being not okay made the other things okay. I’d been fighting myself all week, and not paying attention to what was happening. And what was happening was confirmation.
Confirmation that I’m supposed to be there. That what I’m doing for my writing, editing, social media and marketing are spot on. That I’m getting better at what I do. That people believe in me and want to help me on this path. That I have friends-turned-family looking out for me. That I have something to offer.
I took new classes with favorite faculty, made the one-on-one appointments, prayed, connected, ate, hugged, laughed, shared . . . Everything I thought was missing, was actually happening.
The lie was that it was a lie.
Are you tracking with me here? Everything I thought I wanted to happen but felt wasn’t happening, because I was wrapped up in my tears and loneliness and anxiety . . . It was still happening. I just wasn’t experiencing it.
Until Wednesday morning. Naw, I’m not saying it all worked out that quickly. But I am saying on Wednesday morning I found myself surrounded by my peeps. Who kept surrounding me. And in retrospect, they had from the beginning. I just hadn’t noticed.
So here it is, a week later and I’m home. And it’s taken me this week of remembering and processing to realize, I still have so much to unpack.
Was it overwhelming? Yes. Would I do it again? As soon as yesterday. I know I’m not the only one who left the mountaintop and fell into the valley. We’re all gonna help each other back up.
“Next year, at Blue Ridge . . .” (Thank you, Lori.)
This is the song that did me in, Wednesday morning. God uses everything for His good.
“Blessings” by Laura Story. [How cool is her last name?!]
You know that old phrase, “When life throws you lemons, make lemonade”?
Lemons
I’m not sure who coined that phrase, but I’m pretty sure he must have been pelted by a few lemons when he said it.
But then he probably made enough lemonade that the throwers decided it wasn’t all bad and they probably drank some of it.
Everything works out in the end, yah?
I’m in between the getting-hit-by-lemons and making-lemonade-out-of-it stages.
Babycakes, my precious MacBook Pro of over eight years, is beginning to fail me. She no longer has the software or capacity needed to do what I need her to do for my social media clients and my writing/editing.
She overheats more than she used to, and it ain’t the California desert that’s doing it to her.
And you thought I wasn’t blogging just because I was too busy. I’m never too busy for you, my Swarm!
But Babycakes, well, I have to be gentle with her. Gone are the days of easy newslettering, fast posts, and faster photos.
And I don’t mind telling you, business has picked up since Blue Ridge. I can’t afford to have my computer slow down.
So after much prayer, and nudges from several people unaware (“You should start a GoFundMe!”), here I am.
I’ve made a list, ran the numbers, and I think I’ve come up with a decent game plan.
My goal is incremental:
Replace laptop
Purchase external optical drive
Purchase office software
Replace mic/headphones
Purchase carrying case/backpack
Purchase protective sleeve/skin
In just four days, I’m nearly 25% funded, which is very exciting. It’s so exciting, in fact, that I want to give something back.
But what to do?
Lo and behold, my Swarm has the answer. What would I use a laptop for? Writing, editing, social media, and photography.
How would you like a sampling of all of the above?
You would? That’s awesome!
NOLA, Chapter One and Other Writings
I just put together a 64-page digital download that includes
NOLA, Chapter 1
Four short stories
Ninja Bee Social Media Tips
Two poems on Faith
Three recipes from The Unemployment Cookbook
A dissection of Jeremiah 29:11, NIV
A few photos
My thank you letter
This is a free offering to everyone who donates to my Molly Needs a Mac campaign.
Here’s the kicker. I just spent a good two hours inserting hyperlinks into the document and saving it, only to find my Word software isn’t updated and the links won’t work. There’s no small irony in the fact it’s 2:30 am PST and I’ve been working on the download and this blog post for over six hours. Which just proves my point that I need a new computer as soon as possible.
If you would like to receive your free copy of NOLA, Chapter One and Other Writings, just visit my GoFundMe campaign and make a donation of any amount. Once I receive notice of your donation, I’ll email you the PDF within 24 hours.
And please share this post and the campaign with anyone you think might enjoy a good read.
Yes, because there was much to learn, more to affirm, and an abundance of camaraderie.
No, because in this midst of all that, there were some treasured folk that were deeply missed.
I’ll tell y’all about it later (I said “y’all” again!), but this post is about what I learned about social media. In particular, it’s about one post that taught me about social media.
You see, there’s this thing we call Lobby Time. In the early mornings (not really), between classes (sometimes) and after the evening group session (always), most of us gather in the lobby. It’s where we connect, hang out, let our hair down, play Magic or other games . . . You get the picture.
And speaking of picture (see what I did there?), I took one. There I am chatting it up with some friends-turned-family and I think, This would make a great photo. So in the midst of their discussion, I lifted my cell phone and click. I took a photo.
This photo.
Lobby Time at BRMCWC with Alton Gansky and Lori Roeleveld.
The woman on the right of the photograph is Lori Roeleveld, a disturber of hobbits. She’s an excellent blogger, and a true friend. She calls me sister.
So why wouldn’t I want a photo of some of my favorite peeps?
And why wouldn’t I post it on Twitter and tag them in it?
And why wouldn’t they respond?
So apparently, it’s become a thing. Like, a thing-thing. Like, an internal, #BRMCWC, photo-gone-viral thing. This was taken Monday night. The conference went until Thursday afternoon.
Do you know how many people were talking about this photo by Thursday afternoon? Well, what’s This Girl to do when the conference director says, “Send that to me ASAP so I can share it.”
Of course I sent it to her.
Here’s the thing. It’s not the photo. It’s the reactions.
So many people love so much about this photo, but it all started with Lori’s Tweet-back:
“When did I start to resemble Al?”
And since she has her own Twitter followers, they saw her reply to the photo. And each time, we tagged Al in the retweets. So others saw it.
And kept the conversation going.
And directed others to it.
Two days later, I passed Lori in the hall. As she had broken her foot last week, I paused to ask how she was doing. She gave me a tired smile and said, “I’m alright except for starting to look like Al.”
It’s a good thing my peeps have a sense of humor.
I can honestly tell you upon pain of death that this is one of my most popular tweets ever. It’s certainly one of my favorites.
Sure it’s not a Kardashian. Or Justin Bieber with his pet monkey. Or a Kardashian with Bieber’s pet monkey.
But it is a pretty fantastic photo of some pretty fantastic people that received some pretty fantastic attention.
In this post you’ll find some subtle yet sweet behaviors that will keep your Swarm buzzing and building.
To Bee and Not To Bee
Being a ninja involves skill and knowledge, and the ability to fuse them cohesively. Sort of like bees in a hive, right?
I love being a Ninja Bee and helping others use their social media secrets to grow their online community.
MoJo – Social Media Ninja
Here’s a little honey to share, some tips on the fly that can help draw people into your hive and create some positive buzz for your and your books.
Use your (key) words. Ask yourself: Who will my audience be? When you post online, direct some of the conversation to their attention. Writing a cookbook? Use #recipe. Quote a sentence or two from your manuscripts or reference a character trait. Your hive will fly to your side and bring friends with them.
Connection is a two-way conduit. The Three R’s: Reach, Respond, Reply. Whether it’s a like, share, or comment, your swarm is more likely to help create a buzz if they know they’re appreciated. Keep the honey flowing.
Forget you’re a writer who needs readers. You are also a person, pet owner, coffee drinker, snowboarder, checkers champion. Whatever other things that go into making you you, don’t forget that your readers are also multifaceted. An honest online relationship is more than just marketing. Share those bits and bites of your life, and the next time one of your bees posts about their day, simply support them. They’ll think of you sweetly.
Share the sweet struggles. Writing isn’t always easy. Take your swarm on the journey with you. It’s okay to admit writer’s block or a belligerent character. Those behind-the-scenes moments are the extras readers like to experience with you. Just make sure you put your stinger away when venting.
Share the sweetness. Writing is a beautiful adventure. Give your swarm a reason to spread the buzz and share the honey. Offer freebies and discounts on your books. Swarm Swag like bookmarks and free downloads are terrific gifts to say thanks to those hard worker bees who spread the word for you.
Remember, your hive is built with community.
Field of Dreams
With some sweet tea and a big smile,
~ Happy writing and keep on Buzzing.
Molly Jo
I feel bad for not blogging like I used to. I really do. It’s not that you don’t matter. You’re my Swarm, of course you matter!
You matter so much, that I’ve been putting my efforts into the bigger projects. I know you’re just waiting for NOLA to be finished, and that’s my focus right now.
NOLA Inspiration
And here you are, checking your inboxes every day, patiently waiting for news.
In the meantime, here’s a little bit of what’s happening:
NOLA is about two-thirds rough drafted, and half of those pages have already gone through some deep edits. That means I’ve only one-third left to write. It’s getting pretty exciting. Last week I dreamt the final scene. So this week, I’m finishing the deep edits and writing what comes next.
In just a few weeks, I’ll be at this year’s Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference, and network with other writers, agents, and publishers. I’m looking forward to connecting with known friends and discovering new ones.
So I figure it’s about time y’all met NOLA’s protagonist, Penny Jo Embers. She goes by “Josie” but her new friends call her “Penny”.
When she first arrives in New Orleans, she finds a place to stay.
Red-Headed Embers
Later, she meets characters, mystery, and food. Oh, the food! [Note: You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s quite possible a NOLA Companion Cookbook is in the works, as well.]
She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do. Her life feels over. Or unstarted. Or just messed up. Is she running away from it, or is she taking a break to gather her thoughts?
Torn between a home she doesn’t love and a place she loves but isn’t home, she manages to find a moment of peace with her new friends.
Josie the Firefly
Of course, that’s just a snippet of what happens. Let’s be real. She’s in New Orleans. It’s not just about the food and the fireflies.
