It used to be that I carved out time here and there to write. Here meaning home, after diner was cleared and I had some table space at eleven There meaning the couch in the Ballet Studio, or a folding chair in the Karate Studio, or maybe even in the van while I sat and waited for somebody else to do their thing. Then it happened. Somewhere between here and there, I started doing other things. Non writing things. Talking on the phone. Grocery shopping sans kids. Reading without interruption. Taking on other projects.
As time went on, and people noticed I was writing less, other changes started happening. My time that used to be mine, just wasn't anymore. I felt needed during those hours of waiting rooms, working on other things. Bedtimes got later and sitting down at midnight was a chore instead of a reprieve. What about time with my husband? I wanted that too, but if we don't start a movie until eleven...I'm beat when the credits are rolling.
I distanced myself from my books. There is no one to blame except myself. Within the whirlwind of to-do lists and things I thought I ought to be doing, and the things I just plain wanted to, I let it go from a priority to a sometimes. I thought less and less of my characters, and then they stopped talking so abruptly. It was the quiet that got me to notice. Thoughts used to scream at me at the most inopportune times, and it was FANTASTIC trying to scramble to write down ideas. But then, there was nothing. I had distanced myself from my passion, and I was miserable.
When I did carve out the time, it was new again and that meant interruptions. I have yet to meet a single mind reader, so why in the world I thought people would honor my time without ever preparing them....um...well, I see the error in my ways now. I called myself a spare time writer, and the thing of it is, there is no such thing as spare time. It's a falsity. Best made up load of bullshit word ever. Because there is ALWAYS something that needs to get done. So I cannot achieve my goal with bits of time that belong to something else, or without telling the world "Hey, I'm working, we'll catch up later."
Part-time writer is my new phrasing. It even comes complete with a workable schedule that differs from day to day, but a schedule none the less. Full-time writer of 40+ hours a week is the ultimate goal, but part-time of 20+ is what I can manage now, so long as I treat my work as WORK and stop letting it fall last in the mega list of stuff that needs doing. If I let the words fall from my head to take a phone call, why should anyone else treat it any differently. It's my baby after all, I should be the one cradling it and letting the phone go to voicemail. Which I don't actually have set up. But I know a text will come next so what of it? I can actually say, "Sorry, I'd love to help with that but I'm working those hours," because why not?!? It's true!
In this world of immediate gratification and hectic schedules and too much too fast, I am going to set the example of how a homeschooling mother of two, wife, chauffeur, friend, daughter, Girl Scout leader, sister, aunt, cousin, part time job on weekends.....is going to reach her dreams. The first step was to set the schedule. The second was to relocate my tiny little desk (that I love) to a closet with a door (I had no door before!! I am a crazy person!!) Bonus - this door even locks. I will lock it and I shall be working. I'm fairly certain I can still hear the smoke detector from in there. I'll be fine. And books will be written.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Monday, July 15, 2013
Taming Cross (Love INC.) by Ella James ~ COVER REVEAL
Have you read Selling Scarlett by Ella James? Well, you should! If I had one word, I would say STEAMY. A best friend who would do anything, and I do mean anything, to save a friend. I finished reading last week :) Her newest novel, TAMING CROSS is a Contemporary Romance novel and is the 2nd book in the Love Inc Series. It is due to be released in August 2013. Thank you Ella for letting me be part of your big reveal!!
ABOUT TAMING CROSS:
For twenty-three years, Cross Carlson was a playboy. You know the type. Tall, dark, and wealthy. Blue-eyed. Charming. He seemed to have it all so easy. But Cross was harboring a terrible secret - one that helped ruin the life of an innocent girl and almost ended his own.
Finally out of the hospital, Cross is flailing, scarred in both body and mind and stifled by the weight of the secret he still keeps. The only way to absolution lies in a Mexican convent, and going there could cost him everything.
If there's anyone who knows what it's like to screw up big time, it's Meredith Kinsey. Just a few years ago, Merri was an ordinary girl with a job at her college newspaper and white picket fence kind of dreams. Now she's holed up in a Mexican convent, hiding from a drug lord who thinks he owns her.
What happens when the only way out of hell is with the son of the man who put you there? They say love conquers all, but does it really?
ABOUT ELLA JAMES:
I'm a 20-something sci-fi nerd with a journalism degree and a serious York Peppermint Pattie addiction. I spend my days baby-wrangling and dog-chasing and my nights tapping on my laptop and hanging out with my writer/editor husband. A fun day for me involves lots of writing, running, and researching topped off with some quality Kindle time. My life's goal is to find an empty cottage in an enchanted forest, install a solar panel for my laptop, and move in - never to be seen again, except in sweatpants.
Links:
Taming Cross
Love Inc. Book 2
Release Date: Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Selling Scarlett: http://www.amazon.com/Selling-
Website: www.ellajamesbooks.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Independent of Fears: the more you experience, the more you can write
It has become my opinion that the more one experiences, the better one can write about life. And so, with this new attitude, I have branched out and tried new things. Daring things. SCARY things. Well, maybe not for the rest of the world...but for me, it's been a summer of overcoming fears and learning to love these small little adventures. I jumped in a lake, fully clothed, just....because. It was invigorating. Unexpected. NOT something I would normally do. Until now. When nothing I do seems so ordinary anymore.
I hit this point in life where I have come to crave LIFE. Not just the day to day to-do list with writing time squeezed in, but to feel as if I am actually alive. Living. Present in all moments. Not just stuck. Not just floating.
The lake has called to me several times, I find myself daydreaming about being back in the water frequently. I swam solo underneath the stars, floating in the darkened water just listening to my heart beat in my chest. As I relaxed, slowed my breathing, I could hear it slow down. I could feel myself letting go of all the anxiety that sometimes (often) holds me back from being all that I want to be in this life. The bull frogs sang to me as the stars twinkled above, as if just for my pleasure alone. It was beautiful, and I long to float underneath the stars often.
The daytime beckons me with the heat that used to force me indoors because it's a known migraine trigger for me. The new medication regimen seems to have worked...I haven't been trapped in the darkness of pain for well over a month. I've camped and started fires...a huge fear of burning being tossed aside as I decided to breath through the fear and just do it already. Good news, I didn't die ;) I enjoyed the sun beating down on my bare shoulders for the first time in years. And I danced with my daughter in the rain.
I admit, I still screamed and literally jumped around a friend's porch last week when a giant man-eating bug landed on my exposed skin. It couldn't be helped. I can't be expected to overcome everything at once can I? But baby steps are getting me there. And I smile, and I think to myself that this is one more thing I know...one more thing I can write about.
Tonight I have accepted a challenge by my 7 year old daughter: I will hold a 4th if July sparkler with her for 10-Mississippi seconds (her wording there). She has been afraid of them in years past, and always goes home with tears in her eyes and regret for not having pushed past the fear and gone for it. This is her year. And me, with my anxiety of being burned alive, will be holding her hand while we push through together. Independent from fears on this 4th of July.
I hit this point in life where I have come to crave LIFE. Not just the day to day to-do list with writing time squeezed in, but to feel as if I am actually alive. Living. Present in all moments. Not just stuck. Not just floating.
The lake has called to me several times, I find myself daydreaming about being back in the water frequently. I swam solo underneath the stars, floating in the darkened water just listening to my heart beat in my chest. As I relaxed, slowed my breathing, I could hear it slow down. I could feel myself letting go of all the anxiety that sometimes (often) holds me back from being all that I want to be in this life. The bull frogs sang to me as the stars twinkled above, as if just for my pleasure alone. It was beautiful, and I long to float underneath the stars often.
The daytime beckons me with the heat that used to force me indoors because it's a known migraine trigger for me. The new medication regimen seems to have worked...I haven't been trapped in the darkness of pain for well over a month. I've camped and started fires...a huge fear of burning being tossed aside as I decided to breath through the fear and just do it already. Good news, I didn't die ;) I enjoyed the sun beating down on my bare shoulders for the first time in years. And I danced with my daughter in the rain.
I admit, I still screamed and literally jumped around a friend's porch last week when a giant man-eating bug landed on my exposed skin. It couldn't be helped. I can't be expected to overcome everything at once can I? But baby steps are getting me there. And I smile, and I think to myself that this is one more thing I know...one more thing I can write about.
Tonight I have accepted a challenge by my 7 year old daughter: I will hold a 4th if July sparkler with her for 10-Mississippi seconds (her wording there). She has been afraid of them in years past, and always goes home with tears in her eyes and regret for not having pushed past the fear and gone for it. This is her year. And me, with my anxiety of being burned alive, will be holding her hand while we push through together. Independent from fears on this 4th of July.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
My first Beta readers
Chapters 1-11 of Blinded (Book 1 of the Sun Damaged Series) have made their way to my first Beta readers. Eeek!! It's both thrilling and nerve wracking, to be frank about it. A group of friends has heard Chapters 1 & 2 aloud, and a music producer has begun reading as well. The further I progress, the more REAL it begins to feel. I've uploaded the book to my own Kindle and as I read before bed each night I tingle in anticipation. I wrote a book. I WROTE A BOOK!!
Now, to write more LOL. To finish the lyrics that swim in my mind. To start on the book trailer. To get the editing finished. And a cover done! SO much to do still, yet the biggest hurdle for myself is done. I wrote and now I am sharing. It's a spectacular feeling :)
Now, to write more LOL. To finish the lyrics that swim in my mind. To start on the book trailer. To get the editing finished. And a cover done! SO much to do still, yet the biggest hurdle for myself is done. I wrote and now I am sharing. It's a spectacular feeling :)
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Emotions running high
As I continue to write I feel emotions building up and spilling out of me. Hurt from the past finds new places within me to wound with it's acid sting. I tried ignoring it, I tried medicating it, I tried talking it out of me. Now, time to try something new. Accepting it.
Feelings hurt and some old wounds never truly heal. And maybe that's okay. Taking the pain and transforming into the fuel of a fire instead of trying to smother it...maybe that is what I'm supposed to be doing. Be authentic in my story though it's full of fiction and mythology. Perhaps the rest of the story is buried somewhere there in the pain and I have to relive it to get to what lies beneath. So, that's what I'm doing. FEELING. And it hurts. But it also means I'm alive, and soon my characters will be too.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Those that carry you along your way
When I first started to write, I hid myself away from the world. Writing was my escape. A new reality within the confines of my mind and and now my laptop. As I gained confidence that this passion was where I needed to spend more of my time, I let my worlds slowly blend into one. Writing was my new reality, not just the world I had created.
Little by little I began to share my passion, my work, my new world. I let it bleed into the everyday norm. I broke down the walls I had built around me and a miraculous thing occurred. Support happened.
My friends became supporters and sometimes more. An editor emerged. Then another. Beta readers came out of the shadows. Musicians and a producer I admire believed enough in me and my process to become a part of it. To enter my world and let me in theirs. I found family.
There are days when this still surprises me, and others were it terrifies me. My project is now something more. Its not my hiding place, or my solace. It's my life. To share so much of myself with these incredible people, these people who have blind faith in what I aim to accomplish...it's sheer madness. How I came to be part of something so great, to share in something bigger than me, it both amazes me and sometimes makes me want to build the wall back up. These people won't let me though. They haven't given up on me when I got scared and they won't let me fail myself. I'm so very lucky to have found them, to have taken a risk and let them in only to find myself leaning on them later and shocked when they carry me on this journey that I thought was just my own.
Little by little I began to share my passion, my work, my new world. I let it bleed into the everyday norm. I broke down the walls I had built around me and a miraculous thing occurred. Support happened.
My friends became supporters and sometimes more. An editor emerged. Then another. Beta readers came out of the shadows. Musicians and a producer I admire believed enough in me and my process to become a part of it. To enter my world and let me in theirs. I found family.
There are days when this still surprises me, and others were it terrifies me. My project is now something more. Its not my hiding place, or my solace. It's my life. To share so much of myself with these incredible people, these people who have blind faith in what I aim to accomplish...it's sheer madness. How I came to be part of something so great, to share in something bigger than me, it both amazes me and sometimes makes me want to build the wall back up. These people won't let me though. They haven't given up on me when I got scared and they won't let me fail myself. I'm so very lucky to have found them, to have taken a risk and let them in only to find myself leaning on them later and shocked when they carry me on this journey that I thought was just my own.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Carving out a space for me
I am a night time novelist. The day time is reserved for homeschooling my children, playgroup, field trips, sports, family time, and my nemesis 'housework'. I love the night time, the ideas that have sat on the back burner all day finally finding release. The only downside, until recently, has been my lack of space.
The dining room table has been doubling as my writing desk for the last year. It also does the work of eating area, craft area, school area, science center, oh-this-paint-is-so-gloppy-it-will-take-3-days-to-dry-area...and the list goes on. By the time I'd get to claim it as my own, it's covered in the day's work. I took to stowing my speakers (made by my awesome husband who got tired of hearing my character playlists playing on the crappy laptop speakers) and writing lamp nearby, just itching to take their spot on the table each night. Until one night, when they sat on my unmopped floor. And then a second night they were neglected. And then a third. By night time, I was too exhausted to set up office and write. At least, that's what I told myself.
Well, that excuse can be used no more!! I have found a place to carve out as my own, all I needed was some creativity in how I viewed my home. Hence forth, my office...what used to just be a storage closet underneath the stairs. I lovingly call it my Harry Potter office and am thrilled to have this little space all.for.me. I bought the furniture, minus the tree stump table that I scored from the park, from a friend's estate sale. I dipped in to my cover art fund, but decided it was worth it. I love it, to put it simply. My little space, where worlds are made.
The dining room table has been doubling as my writing desk for the last year. It also does the work of eating area, craft area, school area, science center, oh-this-paint-is-so-gloppy-it-will-take-3-days-to-dry-area...and the list goes on. By the time I'd get to claim it as my own, it's covered in the day's work. I took to stowing my speakers (made by my awesome husband who got tired of hearing my character playlists playing on the crappy laptop speakers) and writing lamp nearby, just itching to take their spot on the table each night. Until one night, when they sat on my unmopped floor. And then a second night they were neglected. And then a third. By night time, I was too exhausted to set up office and write. At least, that's what I told myself.
Well, that excuse can be used no more!! I have found a place to carve out as my own, all I needed was some creativity in how I viewed my home. Hence forth, my office...what used to just be a storage closet underneath the stairs. I lovingly call it my Harry Potter office and am thrilled to have this little space all.for.me. I bought the furniture, minus the tree stump table that I scored from the park, from a friend's estate sale. I dipped in to my cover art fund, but decided it was worth it. I love it, to put it simply. My little space, where worlds are made.
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