My Son's Birthday, and IWSG Wednesday December 2, 2015

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Our awesome co-hosts for the December 2 posting of the IWSG will be Sandra Hoover, Mark Koopmans, Doreen McGettigan, Megan Morgan, and Melodie Campbell!
When you visit them, don't forget to thank them!
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Tristan on his wedding day

Today is my son's 29th birthday. Happy Birthday Tristan! I am sad I won't be with you to share it, but I will think of you and of course call.
Thinking of the very big year of change both he and my daughter have had (both got married!), made me think of how change is a part of growth both for my kids and my other "babies" my novels, especially the works in progress.

My children and my wip's are not at all the same and yet they share characteristics. They were/are both "birthed" by me. They all have "minds" of their own. They all test my limits. And they all make me smile and frown. And the biggest thing they have in common is that I am in love with all of them, my kids and my books. Yes, for different reasons, but I still am totally smitten by each of them.
The one thing that my books do not share with my kids, is that my children (if we parents have done our jobs) are in a constant and necessary state of change while my novels, once they are "Done" "Finished" "Published" are not. My published novels will forever stay in the state they are in (unless someone buys the movie rights!) because I will not go back and change them. As a writer I work to recognize when a novel is finished. As a mother I hope my children are never finished, that they continue to grow and change all of their lives.
I am happy to be a mom and a writer. Each of my "babies" take/took A LOT of time and sweat equity to create. They have all frustrated and soothed me. They all make my life worth living.

Before I finish today, I would like to apologize to my blogging friends and followers. I have not posted much since the last IWSG, and especially, I was supposed to do a post for a friend (Chrys Fey) that I did not get to (I did tweet), and I am soooo sorry. I promise you Chrys, if/when you need me to do something else after Christmas, I will be all over it.

Also, it looks like Chrys's book "30 Seconds" is still on sale so click on Chrys Fey to find out how to order.

Chrys Fey

  Be sure to visit the
Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!

Why Does It Have To Be So Hard?

http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com

I’m back to work on my WIP and it is progressing. Why then do I find it so hard sometimes to make the words read in a fashion that would make folks want to devour them, all of them? I think one of the worst things that could happen for a writer is to have someone pick up their novel, read a few pages and put it down. There are few books in my life that I’ve read where I ended up skipping to the end because I couldn’t force myself to slog through the either terrible story, horrible writing, or it just wasn’t my cup of tea. In my youth I would force myself to finish a book even though I didn’t like it just on principle. But as I’ve grown older I find I don’t have time to waste on bad or uninteresting books.

For me the ultimate criticism is to have someone never finish reading my novel. I’m sure there are people out there who have done just that, and the thought makes me cringe, and drives me to make this work in progress to be so much better. I know (intellectually) that I can’t please everyone; that my writing/stories are not for everyone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t WANT everyone to like them.

So my dilemma this month is to fight my apprehension, my fear of not enough people liking the way I write or the stories I tell, and just get on with it. Though some days it’s a struggle, it’s crazy hard, I’m sticking my chin out and keeping my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard. Hope you are too…

 Images from:

http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com/p/the-insecure-writers-support-group.html

www.thecollegeprepster.com

itsmoh.tumblr.com

www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

www.tumblr.com

indulgy.com

Writing and Not Writing

Lately I have been living through an experience that many have lived through before me; the decline of a beloved parent. I’ve been so occupied with this and with proving to an array of institutions that I can handle his finances in a faithful and trustworthy way, that I haven’t had much time to really think beyond my tears and my nerves much less write. Dad had a really good day yesterday. First one in ten days. This morning I woke up after a thankfully, and desperately needed, good night’s sleep to my mind having a moment of relative peace. I picked up my toothbrush to brush my teeth and found somehow that I looked into an inner mirror at myself and all these wonderful published writers that I admire and envy; their thoughts on writing and what made it work for them, and there I was. All that I am and am not. I am not famous. I do not live to write. I write to live. But I am not a work-a-holic. I am not really above average in any stretch of an imagination. I just love to write.

Between the marketing, the worrying, the not being perfect, the social networking, the trying to write in an “interesting” way, I got lost. Not lost out in the world. Lost in myself and my worries. I lost the love of the story. I lost the joy of finding a new piece to the puzzle of my story. I lost the love of putting words on paper and not worrying how good or bad or boring they are to anyone but me. I lost writing for myself and my peace of mind.

I love puzzles of many different kinds, mysteries, Sudoku, word searches, crossword; the human psyche. Part of what I love about writing is the puzzle of it, just like life, really. How do I get from point A to point B and then C? How do I complete the puzzle that is me? The fear of the unknown, of what comes after life is present right now when I look in my father’s eyes and see his need to be reassured and loved. What a massive puzzle that one is, the great unsolvable one, death and what comes next, if anything.

My dad asked me if I believed in God. I told him yes, I believe in Spirit. I don’t know if I believe in a man-like figure sitting up on a great throne somewhere in the sky, but I believe in Spirit and our connection to it and our world/universe. I don’t know if I helped him with my answer in any way, but he seemed satisfied for the moment.

Life is what I have now. Writing is what helps keep me “me.” I am blessed I can write. I am blessed to be here with my father in this time of his life and mine. I am blessed by the many challenges and joys life is offering to me right now. I will do my best to live up to all of these blessings. I am tired of my fear of failure. No one said this path of words would be smooth and straight with no uphill grades. After all, I am alive; I have written five novels so far.  I guess it’s time to forget what I might or not leave behind me when my turn comes to go. I guess all I need to do is live, and write. What comes next, well, that’s the next piece of the puzzle to find, isn’t it?

Image from:

lovelywhatevers.blogspot.com