May 3, 2015 |
I have a two-inch peacock and he’s only visible through my story window. I’m not crazy. I’m a writer.
This month, I’m reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. If you’re serious about being a writer, or just like a well-told narrative, this is that book. I’m nearly a quarter through, and loving every page, every paragraph, every sentence.
Now here’s something you may not know about me: I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and media. I want it to always be right. I don’t want just the end result to be perfect, I want it all to be right. And that often gets in my way because I find myself editing as I go. Which sometimes makes for longer sit-downs at the computer than necessary.
I’ve been coached, often, on just moving forward. It’s not in my nature to run rampant over the keyboard and let typos, incomplete thoughts, and mismatched storylines flow like too much wine. Because then it reads as though I’ve had too much wine.
Writing with Wine
But the truth is, I’m starting to see the beauty in the #CrappyFirstDraft. There’s something freeing in just letting my fingers go at it without worrying about is this spelled right or did I get the vernacular correct?
Josie discovers New Orleans
So to my critique groups, my writing mentor, and Anne Lamott, I say
I hear you.
I’m moving forward. This week, I’m starting with Chapter Fifteen of NOLA as though all the changes in my head are already on paper. No more revisiting Chapter One. Just. Move. Forward.
It does help to have a plan. At last week’s Orange County Christian Writers Conference, my first session was with Sharon Elliott. It was a hands-on workshop titled ‘Breaking Your Book Into Manageable Bites’. And it was amazing. The very first step in creating a storyboard/outline is to know your topic.
The topic isn’t the same as the title or the outline. It’s strictly the topic. Until that moment, I’d not had a concise logline or description of my book. Sure, I know what it’s about. And if you give me half an hour I can tell you start to finish. But Sharon was asking us to write our topic on a three-by-three post-it note and I didn’t even have it in my head yet.
I grabbed my stickie stack and my pen and applied pressure. I prayed more quickly than I’ve prayed in quite a while. I didn’t want to be the only person in the room with a blank note. So I wrote the first descriptive word that came to my mind, and the rest followed.
NOLA topic
Boom. There is was. And there I was, standing next to Beckie, beginning to cry. Five minutes into my first conference, and I’m in tears because my writing life has forever changed.
I’m a writer. And I have a topic.
Two more take-aways from Bird by Bird is how the book got its name, and how to not be overwhelmed. Write just this piece. Write just this much. She illustrates this concept as a one-inch photo frame on her desk. Her task, when she sits to write, is to write only what is visible through that one-inch frame. No more. No less.
Who cares about the world at large? Write about that one corner your character is in. Who cares about the voices calling the shots from outside the border? Write only what your character hears.
I love this. I love this like the day is long and sugar is sweet. It gives me freedom to fail. And that’s what we really all need, don’t we? The freedom to find out what doesn’t work, the freedom to change this when they need to be changed. The freedom to discover what we don’t like, and then the freedom to expand it.
Start small. Focus. Then shift. Then embellish. But start.
To remind myself of this, I created my own one-inch frame. Okay, it’s more like a two-by-three because the craft store didn’t have anything smaller. And it’s not empty, because I want to be reminded that right now, my focus is on finishing NOLA. So it’s not perfect. But isn’t that the point?
Supplies for the Two Inch Story
After picking out my supplies, I came home and assembled my own story window.
Two Inch Peacock
There were too many stickers and embellishments to choose from, even in the stock I bought. With the limited room allowed, I chose the peacock and fleur-de-lis. And there’s that lesson, again: you can’t do everything at once, and sometimes you can’t do everything at all. Just piece by piece. Bite by manageable bite. Bird by bird.
My reminder now sits on my side table. It’s a symbol of everything I need to be reminded of. And the best part? It’s small enough to fit in my suitcase so I can take it with me to Blue Ridge next week.
My goal is to have my own Crappy First Draft finished by the end of June and then start the editing because, as they say, that’s when the real writing happens.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote.
You may also enjoy reading:
Why I Write. Every Day.
Five Things Friday: Peacocks
Orange County Christian Writers Conference, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 |
Yesterday I attended the Orange County Christian Writers Conference for the first time. It was nice to meet up with current friends and make new ones.
I’m deeply indebted to my mentor, Aaron D Gansky, for inspiring me to attend the conference and for praying faithfully for my writing in the time we’ve been working together. His friendship, work ethic, example (not to mention his being married to my good friend) are all invaluable.
I surround myself on a daily basis with writers and the writing environment. Whether I’m reading craft books, novels, sending out texts or making phone calls, I connect as often as possible with others who understand why I see dragons in the trees and how my cats are really just very furry humans.
Sparkles
When I stepped into the auditorium yesterday morning, there was an added element. This is a Christian writers conference. Everyone there from the committees to the faculty to the volunteers to the attendees has prayed and been prayed for. Often. And for quite some time.
It was exhilarating to know that my teachers are filled with wanting the best for my writing career, and are willing to share their knowledge freely. They weren’t trying to sell me anything. Of course they had books and resources for sale. But they didn’t push it. Rather, they pushed their experiences and their journeys in such ways that it made us attendees want to take the same road.
OCCWF Program Cover
The plethora of information I received, the affirmations, the you-can-do-it’s was overflowing. The schedule was parceled into workshops. Each workshop ran for an hour, and each hour presented several workshops to choose from. I was a little disappointed to learn that cloning capabilities haven’t been perfected yet, so instead of attending each and every session, I chose the ones I felt would most benefit my novel.
If I had a sidebar for this post, it would at this point read
“Kudos to Lindsay Reine for tagging me in several posts and keeping me connected to New Orleans.”
and
“Thanks Lisa for sharing a photo of your Cafe DuMonde goodies.”
I’m not sure if they knew how Kismet it was for me to be plotting out my book’s topic and receive a text about a cat playing with a crawfish. Or when I was learning how to supplement my current income with magazine and online articles, only to be tagged in a news story relating how traffic stops to let alligators cross the road . . . only in New Orleans. Those little nudges from and about the city I’m featuring were magical.
Yes, yesterday was not only about writing, it was about New Orleans. And being Christian. And finishing what I start. And sharing. So much sharing!
I was able to share the story of how I wrote The Unemployment Cookbook, why I still pick up pennies, and how I drew deeper to God through the Ten Commandments. [By the way, each of these books will be either on reduced price or free at Amazon over the next two weeks. Check out my Amazon Author Page for more information and to order your own copy!]
The Unemployment Cookbook, Second Edition
I was also overly blessed when, during one of my fifteen-minute consultations with a faculty member, I discovered the woman was the director of the conference! I had chosen to meet one-on-one with Kathy Ide, as I’d hoped to pick her brain on freelance editing jobs and other tidbits of go-get-’em-now encouragements. Within a very short time I knew her role was much bigger than a fifteen-minute mentor. Especially when she offered me the opportunity to work social media for the conference.
Kathy Ide and Molly Jo Realy at #OCCWC
Several passing-in-the-hall conversations later, I was invited to draft a proposal to become a faculty member for next year, specializing in social media publicity. I share this not to blow my own horn, as Lisa says, but rather to encourage several simple truths:
- Stay the course. Whatever it takes to get you where you need to be, do it. Don’t give up. No matter how long it takes, if you know you’re on the right path, you know you need to persevere.
- Do what you can to gain experience and a good reputation. Volunteer. Learn. Network. Connect. Communicate. Don’t just go for the “bottom line”. Enjoy the journey!
- God will bless your attempts. When you say “yes”, it doesn’t always mean “now”. It just means you’re willing to let Him lead you. And He will honor your commitment.
Although large and busy, conferences are an intimately personal experience. It’s a chance to meet mentors, get your questions answered, socialize, find like-minded friends. At the least, it’s an opportunity to squirrel yourself away from the distractions of home and everyday life, and allow the day to be just about you and your writing.
You can sit on the steps and journal in quiet. You can join the lunch crowd and talk shop. Attend the different workshops. Whatever your writing goals are, I strongly recommend you meet regularly with other writers. Don’t know any? Check out local colleges and school groups. Put an ad on the local library bulletin board. Tack a card up in Starbucks.
Starbucks: Best Writing Partner EVER.
If you’re serious about writing, attend a conference. If you’re serious about writing for God, attend a Christian conference.
If you have questions about conferences, how to sign up for #OCCWC, or social media publicity, please send me a message.
You can reach me on Facebook, twitter, Google+, and LinkedIn.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Stop Fighting and Be Still.
Before You Pray
But I’m not good enough to attend a Christian writers conference. . .
My Interview with Ms. New Orleans 2014, Lindsay Reine
Apr 19, 2015 |
Are you often amazed at the plethora of Monday-haters on social media? Sundays are an infestation of draggy, please-don’t-make-me-go-back posts and photos of closed eyes or weekend-recovery moments captioned “One more day!”
With the humans away, the Cats will play…
I understand. When you need that break to refresh, ending it can seem, well, horrid. I typically clean Bedford Manor after work on Friday night, leaving Saturday as my To-Do List and Play With Friends Day. That makes Sunday my day of rest. My I-Can-Do-Anything-Or-Nothing Day.
But here’s where I admit a dark secret: I treasure most Mondays. Those are days when the work week starts over. It’s the beginning of new opportunities to fill the board with great accomplishments, rack up some goals, and share ideas on making at least our corner of the world a better place.
To-Do List
Mondays are a chance to start over, or continue. There’s nothing quite so nice as knowing I’m earning my paycheck, and starting the week means I’ve five solid days to do just that.
When I’m done with my day job, I get to come home and work on writing, editing and social media publishing for my freelance clients. On Tuesdays and Thursdays you can find me in critique groups or working on their submissions. Wednesday evenings I’m in the online chat room for Aaron Gansky’s Firsts in Fiction Podcasts. Yeah. I’m busy. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
And for those weeks when Mondays are hard to appreciate, there’s always the Pollyanna approach.
“You can be glad because it’ll be a whole week
before (it) comes around again.”
I challenge you today to make a list of five things you have to look forward to this week. Just five things. It can be as simple as a quiet cup of coffee before work, or a smile from a coworker. It can be as complex as making it through the day when you don’t feel good, or paying a bill when you’d rather put food on the table.
Start a Glad List. Next week, come back and tell me how your week went. We’ll both be glad you did.
MoJo Glad List
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
Mar 27, 2015 |
I’m just sitting here and this sudden, invasive thought came to me:
The Complicated and I looked so good together on paper. He was everything I thought I wanted, except for one big “check” on “the list”.
But once I got to the depths of who we were together, for each other, I knew it wouldn’t work and I broke it off. I know I broke his heart and for that I’m sorry. But I also know staying with him would have destroyed me completely. I know he now hates me and thinks I led him on or used him.
But I also know that being single, and alone, and being the Right Person for ME, is better than being the Wrong Person for someone else. He may hate me now, but I would have hated me then.
And a tag-along thought is, I don’t. I don’t hate him. And I don’t hate me. In fact, I’m darn well pleased with who I’ve become. And how I didn’t compromise myself out of loneliness.
Last summer taught me a lot about just being. Yes, I still have moments that I wish I had someone to really talk to. Someone to hold me after a long day. Someone to appreciate my successes with me. Someone to call and say, “Let’s hang out” or “Let’s watch a movie” or just “Come over and have coffee”. I want someone to go on dates with, a reason to get dressed up and keep the house clean and wash the car and have a drink with and cook for and just anticipate his smile and his voice.
I spent six months on eHarmony after The Complicated, and all I learned is to NOT make a detailed list of expectations of who he should be.
Those things I thought I wanted in a man? The Complicated was most of them. And it didn’t work out. eHarmony “matched” me with guys who “fit the bill”. And they didn’t work out.
So I’m done with the list of expectations. You know what? I’m just going to enjoy life each day at a time.
I have discovered, that I am loved by a treasure trove of people. I just had to open myself up to them. My loneliness didn’t stem from not being in a relationship. It stemmed from me keeping myself hidden from the world.
I believe, as hard as it was to say “no” to The Complicated, that it was the best thing to do. So I could rediscover myself, and find out not what I want in a relationship, but what I have to offer the world at large.
I do still want to share my life with that one person I can trust with absolutely everything. But until he comes along (and I have faith he will!), I’m no longer keeping a list. And I’m no longer keeping myself hidden.
Years ago, I woke with this sort of mantra running through my head. I’d forgotten it, forgotten to pay attention to it.
“I am worthy
Of being loved
By the One
Who is worthy
Of being loved
By me.”
I don’t know what brings it to mind now.
I was just sitting at the computer playing Trivia Crack and this entire episode hit me like a refreshing, warm wave on the beach in summer.
Time to dip my toes in a little deeper, and trust that I know how to swim.
Funny the things you realize in a moment. . .
Don’t Leave. Period. My mantra to myself. No matter who else is involved, I mustn’t lose myself.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
It’s Complicated, Part One: My Relationship
Stop Fighting and Be Still.
“He loves me. He loves me not.”
Mar 15, 2015 |
Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
~Exodus 14:13-14 (NIV)
I suffer from depression. This isn’t something I used to talk about. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, because I’m still here. But it’s definitely something misunderstood. And most people are afraid and embarrassed about it, whether it’s happened to them or someone they love.
I’m still here. Which means I’m strong enough to get through that one-more-moment that I needed to get through. But what about the next time? Will I be strong enough then?
Being strong hurts. It hurts not having someone else to lean on, to help pick up the pieces of a fractured heart, or scream happiness with. It hurts to be the one, and not have the one.
Do you ever think about the percentage of creative people who deal with depression and other “disorders”? I believe it’s because we feel things much deeper than average people. Artists of any media are particularly susceptible to opening ourselves up to a life that wounds us to the core. Feeling terrible is better than not feeling at all, and feeling it at such a depth makes the creativity that much more powerful.
When I’m affected by the chasms and peaks of life, I see it more broadly than I can express, except through emotion. I find beauty in hurts and puzzles in rays of sunshine.
I feel more deeply and am more confused by the beauties of this life than I can ever begin to explain. I don’t search for the darkness, but neither am I always afraid of it.
I’ve struggled through some horrendous moments and I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t share the details of my story with a lot of people, because I never know how they’ll react.
There’s a certain vulnerability with letting someone have the keys to your destruction, and trusting them enough to not use it against you.
That’s not my saying. I stole that gem of wisdom from my writing mentor.
In the context of a good book, the characters need to be flawed and need to struggle with each other. In the context of life, it’s a lot more complicated, and a lot more unsettling, and doesn’t always wrap up neatly.
Mostly, life is good and I’m okay. But now and then, something, or a collection of somethings, will trigger that stress in me and try as I might, I can’t always “put on a happy face”.
Depression has its own set of rules that unless you’ve been there, you can’t possibly navigate. Well-meaning people have tried to control or change me. They don’t realize it’s not as simple as that.
I’m not discounting the benefits of avoiding triggers and trying to make things better. But depression is an internal event.
Here are just a few gems from people who haven’t been there:
- “If you just stopped thinking about it, you’d be happier.”
- “Get some rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
- “Have you tried vitamins?”
- “Doctors don’t know everything. You should see someone else.”
- “Medications only make it worse.”
- “You need a change of scenery. Why don’t you get out for the day or take a weekend vacation?”
- And what I find to be the most hurtful: “You just don’t have enough faith.”
There’s also the struggle to identify a cause. Many times, my depression is provoked by something nameless. It’s a constant presence, in the shadowy corners, just waiting to be recognized. It’s its own thing, caused by nothing and solved by nothing else.
The best a person with depression can sometimes hope for is just to breathe through the moment.
I say again, I’m lucky. Through years of hard work, self observance, and a decent group of friends to support me, I’ve learned to identify my triggers and my solutions.
I’ve learned to monitor my body. If I’m not eating healthy enough or sleeping enough, that can make my thoughts a little less clear. Which makes it hard to filter out the negative thoughts.
I know the difference between having a glass of wine with dinner, and going out to a bar so I don’t have to stay home alone. Self-medicating isn’t just about medicines. It can also be food, TV, thought patterns . . . whatever a person uses to feel better.
I’ve learned that the most important thing I can do is reach out. It’s also the hardest. My depression embarrasses me. I’m a typically joyful, outgoing person. I love nothing more than to be surrounded by people whether it’s church, fellow writers, or even my favorite clients from the day job.
I also don’t like to bring other people down. I don’t want to explain myself or disappoint my friends. I don’t want to hear someone’s outside opinion of what I’m doing wrong. So I keep to myself. Or I hide it behind the fake smiles and the hugs and the I’m-Doing-Fine’s.
And I keep hiding. Until it’s bigger than I can handle. Until something’s gotta give.
“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”
I’m lucky to have friends who have known me long enough to realize my triggers before I sometimes do. Friends who can talk me down from the ledge when I didn’t know I’d even stepped out. And I’m lucky those friends were there for me this weekend.
I wasn’t in physical danger, but I was certainly not in a good place. What I thought was just fatigue and anxiety had combined with, as they pointed out, the exorbitant amount of stress from the last few months until I stopped fighting the triggers. I began barking at people with an unfiltered vocabulary. I broke promises. I was ready to fight almost everyone in my path. And I didn’t care.
Depression can garble thoughts. What I think is right in the moment, isn’t. Who I think is against me, isn’t. But I can’t recognize what’s right, or I don’t want to admit the embarrassment of misunderstanding. Even if it’s fleeting. Even if it’s undeserved. Apologizing for being irrational is a painful and humiliating experience. So I don’t.
I just can’t seem to get this life-thing right. So the depression grows. And I keep it to myself.
My depression comes with its own trust issues. It’s hard to know who to talk to, who to tell what to, and who to listen to. Do they really understand me? Do they have my best interests at heart? Or do they want to “help” me to feel superior about themselves? They’ve not been here, they’ve not had these thoughts. How can they possibly understand.
I tried to read my Bible for that whisper of hope and direction. I just heard the words “Be still.” Which I couldn’t do. I mean, I’m depressed, right? Which means I’m anxious. My legs are bouncing while I’m sitting. Or I’m up, pacing the floor. Or sitting on the bench practicing my steady breathing and hoping not to hyperventilate.
If one more person asks how I’m doing then keeps walking instead of waiting for a real answer, I’m gonna lose it.
I didn’t want to lose it. I had to find a way to fight this. I had to find a way to get back to being me. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone because this is different than who I was ten or twenty years ago. They won’t see that. They’ll just see this and think same ol’ same ol’.
And then I found it. Exodus 14:13-14. Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Just as God led Moses to the Red Sea, He led me to my shore. He parted the stormy waters so that whatever was threatening them in their future vanished, and He promised that what was troubling them in their past would remain in their past. He didn’t promise them a perfect tomorrow. He just promised them a way out for now.
Stop. Take a breath. You asked for my help, and I’m here. Now. In this moment.
And in that moment, with my trusted friends, I was able to securely reach out and know, it’s gonna be okay. They’re not judging me based on past moments. They’re not judging me at all.
They’re just reaching back.
December 8, 2014
My depression is something I will always have to live with. Most of the times, it’s dormant, hidden, controlled. When it isn’t, I have to learn it’s okay to stop fighting myself and others. I don’t always have to keep this a secret.
And I don’t have to be ashamed.
This weekend I realized I have too much to say. I’ve been quiet for too long. It’s time to be authentic and reach out, so others can reach back.
Tonight I feel just a little less lonely. And I think I’m gonna sleep better than I have for a while.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Before You Pray
2015: HOPE
It’s Complicated, Part Two: Christianity
