Feb 15, 2019 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
My Perfect Valentine’s Day
(Or, How I Embraced My Independent Singleness and Lived My Love Out Loud)
~#~
NOLA NOTE: Before we get into today’s post, I’m pleased to announce NOLA second draft is now at the editor’s desk (not mine!), and I’ve hired a book designer who is currently designing the cover, internal layout, and eBook specs. I don’t have a firm pub date yet, but it will be soon-ish! I’d love to have y’all join my private Facebook group for more information, memes, and all-around fun. You can join on Facebook by clicking here: NOLA Swarm.
Stay tuned for publication updates . . .
~#~
Valentine’s Day is not one of my favorite days. The commercialism of lovemeloveme stuff? I’d rather not, thankyouverymuch. Okay, I’m sure if I had the opportunity to, you know, share it with someone, I’d feel different. But even then, I’m not so sure.
Don’t get me wrong, I love flowers, wine, and chocolate as much ~ if not more ~ as the next girl, but This Girl is also logical. I don’t go in for one-day-a-year Gooey Eyes. I just don’t. Now, spoil me regularly, and then we can talk. [Insert eye-roll here.]
So today I focused on what y’all now call “self-love.” I dunno how that phrase got started, but I’m cool with embracing it.
Today, after I got all dolled up, my non-boyfriend [translate: car I named after my protagonist, Rain] took me all over town. Instead of flowers, wine and chocolate, we stopped to get a post office box. A vehicle title. A driver’s license.
All in my new hometown. All for my new life.
Which I am loving more than I thought possible.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : My Perfect Valentine’s Day
It totally helped that it was a balmy day and I got to spend most of it with the windows down and the radio up. (Big surprise, right?)
Love comes in many forms. We all know this. But when it emanates with ebb and flow, in and out of us, to share with others, there’s a harmony, an unsung tune that only we can give music to. That’s life. That’s love.
There’s always something to celebrate. Channel your inner Pollyanna if you have to. Make a list. Sing it out loud.
Darlin’, there is always something to celebrate.
And today, I celebrate no longer living in California.
Today, I am officially a True Southerner.
So tonight, I enjoyed a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen, and watched Gone With the Wind.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : My Perfect Valentines Day with a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen
Yup. Today’s all about the Southern love.
How did you share love? Leave a comment!
With a new drawl and a pin in the map,
Happy living love.
~Molly Jo
Frankly, My Dear . . . Savor the Journey!
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Bohemian Hurricane
Molly Jo is a Southern Belle and known to her friends as the Bohemian Hurricane. She is the author/curator of The Unemployment Cookbook and several eBooks available on Amazon. Her work-in-progress, NOLA, is a full-length location mystery novel set in New Orleans, and the first in her City Series.
Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.
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
Dec 25, 2011 |
Will Power was excited. It was the time of year when the world was abuzz about winter, Christmas, and Santa Claus. Will Power had heard about Santa Claus and looked forward to meeting him.
He sat down to write out his wish list.
But he soon found himself overwhelmed.
In this season of good cheer and gift giving, it didn’t feel right to ask for so much for himself. But the world said it was okay.
He was at a loss.
Everywhere he turned, there was always something more to want. The world kept telling him so. He needed this and needed that. He must want everything, and if he didn’t want or need it, he certainly should know someone who did.
There was so much glitter, so much shine, so much of so much… he felt like this Christmas was just a Carousel going ’round and ’round and he wasn’t sure how to make it stop.
He just knew there had to be more to Christmas than getting gifts, and went in search of it.
He found a Christmas Tree. It was tall and beautifully decorated. It urged him to “believe”, but he still wasn’t sure what to believe in.
He needed help. He found himself wandering, wondering; and hoping for help.
Soon he came upon a gathering. It was a simple display. The kind that invited attention through its lack of fanfare. There was something very special. Very special, indeed.
He studied. There were no great light displays. No special sales or advertising or promises of ease and comfort. It was quiet. It was peaceful. And it was the most personal Gift he could ever need.
And in the peace, and quiet, and humility of a perfect baby being born in less than perfect conditions to a less than perfect world, Will Power understood.
It’s not about the gifts you get. It’s about the Gift that was given.
He raced home as fast as he could to finish His letter. But instead of asking Santa for anything, he had a much better idea in mind:
From our house to yours, a very Merry Christmas.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
