To Christmas and Beyond

Yes, I said it. Christmas.

Starting a blog just before the holidays was not my most well thought out idea. I'm sure everyone understands why I haven't written in a few days and will understand that after this post, it may be a few more again.

Sigh.

I've been at work today (just so this makes sense I work in telephone customer service) and I've found myself hesitating to say Merry Christmas. I'm extremely bothered by this because frankly I celebrate Christmas and I'm a firm believer that despite what the person you're giving the tiding to celebrates it, it is both polite and kind to wish them happiness without reservation. 

I'm not going to get into the argument of preaching. Preaching your beliefs to someone is completely different then offering words of blessing from your faith.

So why would I hesitate if I believe in showing manners to others?

One word. 
Fear.

Fear of someone blowing up because they mistake good tiding with preaching. Fear that all of a sudden I've become discriminatory towards other cultures/religions. 
Fear, because I don't want someone to use me so that they can play the victim.

Merry Christmas has become a derogatory statement.

It's been made into a swear word that can only be mumbled to friends or family. It's become the place to lay blame.

This makes me so tired because Christmas has always been a place to lay your burdens down and find peace. 

Just as a side note, no I'm not Christian.

And I don't have to be to see the beauty in faith. In all faiths. I choose Merry Christmas because that is the one I relate to, all of my childhood memories, the presence of family, the one that I celebrate. Christmas is a reminder of my late father and all the love he had for me. It's a holiday that I think everyone deserves to be told to be merry on.

When others tell me that their God/Belief/Religion cares for my happiness, I say thank you. Because someone thinks enough of me to use their deepest connection to tell me so. 

So, Today G+ friends I'll tell you the only thing left to say:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

The Perils of War

I've been defeated.

Yesterday I was kicked to the ground, then stomped on by life. It took nearly everything in me not to just call it quits, go home and create a cave of darkness that I could dwell in. 

Yesterday, I just felt stressed. 

I know that sounds common but for me it isn't. I typically handle pressure very well. I can actually function better under an iron hand or a looming deadline. But for some reason I simply hit a wall. And let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.

But life isn't usually pretty.

It's dirty, muddy, foggy.It's steep and rocky with hardly any straight paths to take. Easy isn't a word in its vocabulary and happiness isn't gifted.

No. Happiness is a choice each of us has to make everyday. And some days, like yesterday, I didn't have the courage to choose it. Sometimes I just don't want to be happy. You don't hear that too often, but it's true. Happiness is hard. It's a lot of work, a lot of pushing and pulling. It's a heap of decisions and sometimes I just don't want to.

But when days like yesterday happen, I simply forgive myself. Because I know that tomorrow, I'll hike up my boot straps and do work. I'll get the things I missed done and feel better for it. I can let go of my moments of unhappiness because I know they are temporary. 

So, here's my advice for today, for both myself and for you:

Don't let who you were, how you felt, or what you did yesterday define who you are right now. Let it go. You are the burden sitting on your shoulders, so how about lightening your load a little?

The Second Draft Killer

It'll be the death of me...

First draft is finished. The weight of it was released off my shoulders and I smiled outrageously at the prospect of finally seeing the reality of being an author. 

Five Seconds Later...

I realized the first draft was missing imperative information. Scenes needed to be put in, details needed to be written, the plot needed to be a bigger punch in the gut. A second draft needed to be written. 

And this is about the moment I broke. 

Oh. No. Someone please rescue me under the stacking list of why my first draft isn't good enough. Drag me away from the red pens that have completely taken residence on top of my papers, so much so that they're growing words of their own. Force me to tell myself, "THIS IS GREAT. YOU ARE GREAT. IT WILL ALL BE WORTH IT!" Because right now, that light I saw? Yeah, that train has hit me full force.

Rant End.

Okay, now that I've got my complain in to the writing Gods, here's the real scoop:

I finished my first draft and started scouring through my second. Writing the second draft all the way through will probably take until January, but I'm looking forward to it finally being done. I'm extremely confident in my story, my characters and most of all my ability. Even in times of absolute writers despair I still feel like I'm just being silly. No one has ever accused me of lacking confidence. 

I scouted for editors, and if you were at all curious, they are not cheap. But I know they are a necessity and after seeing a sample, I've absolutely fallen in love with the idea of having one. It's probably one of the coolest things I've come across in the writing world. Needless to say I'm in the talking stage of getting my husband to see the awesomeness that is editing and why it's worth the $. I think he may be warming up to it, especially since I've promised him riches with my best selling novel :)

Here's where I'm going to be brutally honest for a moment, so proceed with caution. Most likely you will not agree with me:

I've approached every task in life with the same attitude: Envision the best possible scenario, the one that you're striving for ultimately, no matter how impossible it seems and then just do it. 

I sound crazy, huh?

But seriously, if you go into anything, and I mean anything, thinking you're going to fail. You will. The only person who knows your value, your level of hard work, your dreams is you. So the only one who really needs to believe, is you. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you can dream and not have to do any hard work. Oh, no. There's never a shortage of hard work when doing anything that's worth it. 

What I am saying is that no one else has time to think you're worth it. 

Sales 101- for those who have never been in a sales position- if you can't sell your product, no one will buy it. You have to believe in what you're trying to get someone else to buy. You have to be ready to look them directly in the face and say, "You cannot go another day without this because it is going to be BIG. It is the best thing that has ever happened to anyone ever." Because if you hesitate even a little bit? The customer hesitates. Second thoughts take over each of you. And even if at that point they still buy, the entire time they have it they'll wonder if it was worth it. Never, and I mean EVER, let the reason someone has doubt be because of you.

So as unrealistic as I may sound. However conceded or overly confident. At the end of it all I know that I did everything I could to get myself there. I know that in no way did I self sabotage. 

But just a side note, if you put the work in and you always sound confident (even when you don't feel that way) I've never really heard of anyone not succeeding. 

Success is a state of mind.  

Be the Sheppard, not the lamb.

Til Death Do Us Part

Not A Wedding But A Story

Last night I made the extremely hard decision to kill off one of my characters. 
I've come to see that I'm not as excited about it as some authors tend to be.
But at the same time I've jumped forward in my writing to write his death because I need to get it over with. His death is necessary to make the story move forward. I need to hurt my MC's so that they can grow. Then I realized the character I'm killing off, hasn't had things easy. He's had his fair share of shit happen to him and honestly doesn't deserve to die. For that I am deeply sorry. I felt like I pulled a Veronica Roth by letting people who didn't deserve to live, continue to live and killing off the person responsible for my entire story. So, I looked up how she felt about what had happened in her book. Why she did what she did and what made her move forward with it, despite not wanting to. 

(Here's the link if you're interested: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7769439873432760740#editor/target=post;postID=8109695578387587524;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=0;src=link )

And just like most readers out there I loathed her ending. It seemed pointless. But after reading her blog, I could see the light. I intertwined her connections and thought about everything I loved in her books and tried to see why it was important. 

In her blog I found a piece of the writer inside me and decided that good, bad, or ugly, when writing a novel sometimes shit just needs to hit the fan. So, I've decided when I rewrite my first draft, I'm going to make sure every reader feels the pain of this character's death. That every person goes, "What the Hell", because I want you all to care about him as much as I do. I want this death to be as horrible for you as it is for me. My only hope is that you all see the purpose of it. 

Maybe I'm just a little too sentimental right now. 
He is just a figment of my imagination.

Then again, I'm a writer and my most prized possession is my imagination...

Starting Over

Forgiven and Remembered

I haven't written a blog in so long, I've forgotten what they're used for.

And yes, I have been living with the rest of you folks in this internet crazed world. 

I just suppose I haven't... well... been bothered with writing it.

No. That's wrong and I will be honest. I'm terrified of them. 

The prospect of words following me minutes, days, years after I've written them

words so raw and emotional that I can only relate to them in the moment.

And the fact that anyone's eyes can see them?

Pure terror. 

But today, I've decided, to forgive the muse inside me.

The soul that guides my thoughts and allow whatever I need to, 

to be typed down without reserve.

I love.

Pretty much that sums up where I'm at with life in this second.

I'm so enamored with everything around me that I'm constantly filled to the brim with it.

I can't help but think most people are amazing

but I am also so green with envy that sometimes my love for them gets tainted,

twisted into something I can't recognize, until it hits me.

And trust that it hits me hard.

It's not that I blame anyone else, it's just that I see where I'm faulted.

I still consider it love, because I know that the jealousy will pass 

I'll come to remember that I can be great too and the love for myself will be cleansed.

Sounding preachy and peachy and a tad bit puke worthy?

Good.

Because everyone needs a good bit that makes them so disgustingly thankful

They just want to lose it.

So, you're welcome.

I've been writing a novel that is a mess.

It's sticky and has been put everywhere like old chewed gum.

In fact I can refer to it as the detention desk.

However, I'm amazed by it. Proud even. Because guess what?

Even if it's rickety and unstable, it's mine. Completely and undeniably. 

I can find tiny little bits of me in every paragraph and that makes me so insanely happy

that I can't even control myself and begin to write some more.

It's a cycle I'm glad to continue.

The other thing I wanted to put down tonight is my lack of direction.

At least, it feels that way.

Just lost.

I spent all of November so focused on NaNo that I forgot everything else.

It's now December 

and everything as well as nothing came back.

My job's still the same, my husband's still the same, my friends are still distant.

The problems didn't go away either.

So, all I can think of is: NOW WHAT?

It's a distant sort of question and I'm chasing down the answer.

I'll have an update when I catch it.

I promise not to leave you on a saddened note

or any problem point for that matter.

Instead I'll tell you about my horrible habit of buying presents.

I love to buy

and buy

and buy.

I can't help the joy I get from knowing someone so well,

that I can pick out something so perfect I know they'll love it.

They'll smile so fully that I second guess the sincerity of it

(even though I know they're truly thankful)

It's a gift most don't have. My husband included.

They just don't understand the point and I try not to see there's

because in truth, there is no point.

It just is and that's one thing I'm happy without having logic attached to.

Sometimes happiness just is and sometimes, just sometimes

 it needs to stay that way.