Happy 1st Blog-day!

Tomorrow is my dear blog's first birthday. A year ago I had finally took the bait and began this new adventure. And I have loved every minute of it!

I believe I have grown as a writer - not necessarily technically (i.e. what an magazine editor likes to see: Hook, Middle, Climax, End) but in terms of thinking like a writer. My day's events, conversations or thoughts and feelings are all material. Some become sentences in my head, others get jotted down, still others are written in a post before I've barely had a chance to sip my coffee. I have even dared to call myself a Writer... in public! I have a business card that says: Writer, Artist, Journaling Instructor. A year ago that would not have been possible, my ego was not up to it yet.

In honor of my bloggy's birthday I am going to re-post the one that began it all.

In the beginning there was the word... "blog"

A few months ago I was chatting with a fellow mom who asked me what I do (she obviously meant other than carting my children around to preschool and dance class and swimming lessons as well as keeping them supplied with nutritious fodder and clean-ish clothes.)

"I'm an aspiring writer," I replied sheepishly.

"Oh, do you blog?"

"Nooo, I don't blog!" said I. (I didn't say that, but I did think it. Being the traditionalist that I am, writing online just doesn't seem real, any more than reading a book on a kindle - or whatever it's called - or listening to music through teeny weeny headphones seems real.)

What I actually said was, "No, I'm more of a paper and pen kinda gal, ya know. I'm not really into the computer that much."

"Oh, you should. I just got asked to write an article for someone because they read my blog."

And my world tipped just a bit.

Fast forward to this week. I have finished my first non-fiction article and I am almost ready to send it off with a query letter. To garner some support in my new endeavor I started chatting with some other writer-moms online. To my utter amazement I discovered they all write online either for publication sites and/or their own blogs. AND THEY GET PAID FOR IT.

World tips completely over and I'm falling head first into cyberspace.

I have been calling myself an aspiring writer for many years now but I was intimidated by the world of dash-your-dreams editors and query letters. But now (dammit) I have no excuse. Just write a little article, get it accepted at one of about a trillion publication sites, and wait for someone to send you a check for, oh, about $2. Who cares, you're published!

And this blog? I'm still loyal to time spent curled up in a chair with journal and fountain pen writing words for no eyes but mine. But if this blog really can help my writing career by forcing me to write everyday - to hone my craft - and maybe, just maybe, catch some editor's eye, then ok, I guess I'll give it a try.

But I do still plan to write for those real publications one day.

OK, so I still haven't made $2 - or even .10c - for my writing. But I have been published and I have received that all important personal note from an editor. I have been asked to write an essay for a possible book compilation and another essay on my son's natural birth is still awaiting an editor's approval for another compilation. I do not feel for one moment that I am not making it as a writer. I have had to put other things first this year (like my "real" job and my journaling workshops). If there's one snippet of wisdom I hang onto more than other other it is:

Writers Write!
and that's what I am doing almost everyday.

Thanks blog! Happy Birthday!

Mama got a byline

Two days ago there was a 8x5.5, unevenly folded, two-stapled magazine in my mail box, it's light lavender cover showing a pregnant mother earth holding up the sun and moon. I don't usually subscribe to such "hippie" mailings but I was particularly excited to have this publication show up at my door. Before I had even broken the tape seal I was jumping up and down in anticipation of what was inside.

And there it was... on the very first page!

My essay, my name: my first published work.

I don't care one bit that I was not paid or that it isn't in a full-sized glossy printed somewhere bigger and more important sounding. I actually love the fact that my first published essay is in a zine, lovingly put together in a small town just over the mountain by people who know people I know (I even know one of the other authors through my former job). I don't care that the number of readers will be tiny compared to those of the big "shinys." My only care is that I am on my way - to where exactly, I don't know, but I am on the path I have envisioned for myself for over a decade. And I sincerely thank the editor of Mama Says for giving me a leg up.

In March 1997, I wrote in my journal:

When I peer into an undated future (maybe 10 years)... I see myself in my own home, married... I never think of myself working [outside the home], no I'm writing... in a sunny room with birds singing outside the window...

Well, here I am twelve years later writing at a big desk in a sunny room (well, it would be sunny if this wasn't Vermont in mid January, and granted, I am only home from work today because my children are full of the ague). And next to me pinned to my cork board is the little magazine opened to a page with the title, "God and Condoms" with my name printed right below it.

I truly believe in manifesting your dreams, especially in writing. So many things have fallen into place for me because I had visualized and wrote about them first.

I have put in writing many times before my hope of becoming a freelance writer (and I am kind of partial to those paying types of jobs, please) but I am visualizing it here and now for you all to share (bear with me, s'il vous plait). I also have a new dream brewing.

OK, it's 2014. It is actually sunny in my sunny writing room. My children are at school (because in this dream they are never sick and preventing me from working) and I have a deadline for an essay I'm submitting to Brain, Child (my 5th one for them). This evening I will be walking over to the studio I have created in our converted garage to teach a journal workshop.

There's my mini dream. My nose is pointed down a path. I don't know the twists and turns the path will take but I know I will get somewhere good in the end.

Obligatory New Year Post

At the end of the year it is the law of the land that you look back on what you have accomplished (or not) and then look forward and make unattainable goals for the new year.

I was going to say that I don't like to follow rules and refuse to do this. But the sad truth is I'm actually the worst kind of conformist - to my own rules. Therefore, I decree, I shalt ponder the year...

As this is primarily intended as a writing blog, I will focus on that.

What I accomplished in 2008:
1. Completed a two year long Children's Literature course.
2. Began writing this blog (and got a small number of readers).
3. Accepted to Journal Instructor Certification course.
4. Submitted two articles and two queries.
5. Had one article accepted.
6. "Hired" as a journal instructor.
7. Hired as a grantwriter (and do-everything-elser) by a non-profit.
8. (and this is the biggest achievement in my mind): Began thinking of and believing in myself as a Writer (yes, that's with a capital W).

What I hope to accomplish in 2009:
1. Make a writing schedule for myself that I stick to as if it were a work obligation ("no, I'm sorry I can't bake 24 dozen cupcakes for this afternoon, because, well, I don't bake, and I have to work.")
2. Write this blog at least once a week, preferably twice.
3. Continue "The Tale of Two Couples." (The telling of this story became hard for me, something I wasn't expecting. I have yet to figure out why... still too close to the heart??)
4. Take the time to read more blogs.
5. Write in my journal daily.
6. Read more of the magazines to which I would like to submit.
7. Write, write, write, submit, submit, submit...

Anyone want to be the "Ethel" to my "Lucy" (i.e. be my buddy and nag me to keep to my goals)? (I credit The Momstown's Guide to Getting it All for this idea, and I think it especially appropriate to me as I have the right name.)

OK, obligatory reflection and goal-setting done. Now I have to wish you all the obligatory good wishes and success for the coming year.

May there be:
A world-wide effort towards peace (starting with me and you)
Food for hungry stomachs
Hope for trembling hearts
Joy in tear-filled eyes
Fewer natural disasters and no human-made ones
Less hate and much, much more love.

And I send many good vibes to our new president...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Just a quickie

No, not that kind (get your head out of the gutter).

No, this is just a quick, boastful post to say...

I GOT PUBLISHED!

In Mama Says (this is the link to their blog, not the zine itself). My understanding is it is just a small Vermont publication, but I don't care. You have to start somewhere, right? and a homegrown zine in my own state is as good a start as any. It is an essay on talking to my children about God and religion. I can't wait to actually see my name in print.

And, on another happy note: It is official... I will be teaching a journal workshop at the end of February. I will be listed on the Writer's Center website with bio and everything (not that I have much of a bio).

I believe the life of my dreams is beginning to unfold. Ironically, it is happening at the same time as my day job, my dream job, is becoming a bit of a nightmare. It seems serendipity is poking in its nose making sure I am fulfilled and feeling appreciated at a time when I could be feeling far from it. And I have more proof of this.

Even though I am tired from work, battling children and housework, I have started singing again. Like Agnetha from Abba, I could sing almost before I could talk and I have been singing alone or in a group my whole adult life. My highest achievement was singing with the Vermont Symphony Orchestra chorus, which I had to leave when my unborn child insisted on sleeping on my lungs. Since then, I haven't sung much at all (which I will also blame on my children). But recently I joined a church choir that has an amazing reputation and an even greater repertoire. A few weeks ago after the performance of Messiah, the soloist approached me and hugged me because she, amazingly, remembered me from my VSO days (over 6 years ago). She told me she remembered I had a beautiful voice and was glad I was singing with Rip (the incredibly talented director of the church choir). I don't know where this will lead but I'll keep singing and wait to find out.

I tell you this, not to boast, but to prove my point: DO WHAT YOU LOVE... you WILL have success!

Writers Unite!

I went to a writer's symposium today. Despite being exhausted (this follows two grueling days of workshops on child sexual abuse and other things I'd prefer to remain naively ignorant about), this workshop was just what I needed. Being around other writers (and what colorful characters we are!) is so affirming. Hearing pens frantically scratching across yellow legal pads as we thrash through the mental cobwebs to enter the mysterious, and always miraculous, cave of verbal wonders; being applauded for something you scribbled in a 10-minute sprint and told you have to "keep going with that... I'd read it," is music to the ego and adrenaline to the muse. You feel a part of something; something real, something worthwhile. You might even consider claiming to be a... a... Writer (whoa, slow down there, Nellie!)

Let me throw a little bit of serendipity in here.

I found out about this workshop from a writer whom I contacted through http://www.pw.org/. I was hoping to find a writer's group nearby. I found the name of a woman who lives 20 miles from me. While reading her bio I discovered, amazingly, that she grew up in a town within miles of where we lived in Mississippi. She wrote a friendly, helpful email telling of her publications and current works-in-progress. She also suggested I contact a certain gentleman about a workshop being held the next weekend. It turns out that this very gentlemen and my father just happen to belong to a mutual admiration society, so I was able to [maiden] name drop and register for the workshop just a day before it was held.

Now I have contacts. I will be joining the local writer's guild. I will have people to hold me accountable, who will (hopefully) offer positive feedback and constructive criticism, and who, most importantly, will make me feel I belong. To a "club" of like-minded people, who understand the unbounded beauty of a blank book and a fountain pen, and to whom the ideal day is one spent wringing out words and pegging up phrases.

To paraphrase one of our presenters today, Joni B. Cole, writing may be a lone effort but it doesn't have to be a lonely one.

Waiting for the serendipity to stir

I realized I hadn't said much about serendipity or positive thinking lately. Since I started the job that was the result of a serendipitous event, life has become kind of run of the mill. Despite having not worked (out of the home) for 4 years I have slipped back into the routine and mindset of being in an office as if I just returned from a extended vacation. Thankfully this job has yet to stress me out like my last "real" job where I had publication deadlines, front-of-house crowd control issues, and the pressure of being a new, working, breast-pumping mother.

Even so, I think I'm a little down. I had finally started writing - or at least got my head in a place where I was (truly) ready to start - and now I'm wrestling The Schedule. I have marked up my planner until it looks like the departure board at Logan airport, blocking out every hour with this chore, that errand, appointments, work, and writing. But then that errand takes an hour longer than it should (due to the rice having been moved from aisle 4 to aisle 13 and pizza dough apparently no longer made) or a staff meeting and work project running over time, shrinking the scheduled writing time from three hours to one (which, of course, means no writing).

I'm glad I'm working and I especially can't wait to write a grant. Plus, we definitely needed the extra paycheck to get through this heating season. But I also feel that maybe - once again - I have put my own dream on hold. Did I do this on purpose; subconsciously sabotaging myself because I was getting too close to actually doing what I have dreamed of?

When you no longer have an excuse to fall back on, the responsibility of a dream can loom large and scary.

I think I have stopped thinking positively and looking for serendipity because my life has become, well, normal, and a normal life - boring life - doesn't foster spiritual thoughts. But I'm pretty sure that's where I'm making a mistake. If I did start thinking more positively about merging my working, mothering, and writing lives into a more do-able, less scary whole, I would most likely start to see the serendipity stir.

Paah- fection

I'm impatient. I'm also crap at not being good at something (there's a sentence for you). My learning curves are supposed to be straight. I want brilliance - immediately. I'm an aspiring writer, I'm learning the ropes, I'm starting a new career. But I have a little friend, a toxic friend, the kind that can send you into therapy: Perfectionism.

My friend Miss P. won't allow me time to figure this all out; I'm just supposed to know.

Positive thinking rained opportunities down upon me, now I have to swim to the surface for some air. My planner is suddenly busting at the seams with articles to write, stories to revise, a journal-training course to complete, this blog to compose; not to mention all the mundane, never-endng household chores and errands. I don't have a time-slot or brain-cell left available for learning anything.

So, for now I'm just going to do what I know best: Write. And I'm going to try to give myself a break; admit to myself I'm a beginner. Let the mistakes happen and the learning begin - naturally. Perfectionism doesn't like mistakes. Perfectionism would rather that I give up than look stupid. But you know what, Miss P.? You ain't sabotaging this one...

Exposing and disposing the Fear

I saw my name as a byline for the first time today.

I submitted three tiny pieces to AssociatedContent.com a couple of days ago just to see how the process works. While it is exciting to have my own words there for the world to see, it is also a little disconcerting. Strange that I would feel this way when my dream has always been to see my name in print. It is like the scraped-surface feeling I get when I send off a job application and resume - raw, vulnerable, exposed.

But at the same time, I am supposed to be promoting myself so I can begin to make money at this writing game. Just like that resume and cover letter, it is about strutting your stuff without being pompous or arrogant - just honest and healthily ambitious. Reaching out for what you need for your own well-being.

For the past two weeks I have been reaching out so far I'm hanging off the edge off my comfort zone. I applied for three jobs, none of which I really wanted but felt I needed to help our family through this coming heating season. Out went those soul-exposing letters and resume. One rejection (OK, I've never actually been an executive assistant), one "you'll be hearing from us soon," and one complete blow-off (the utter lack of professional etiquette on that one has me composing passive-aggressive emails in my sleep.)

Yes, I've been home for four years but I haven't stopped "working" during that entire time. I drew enough people's precious pets and big-eyed babies to pay for one Christmas, taught a journal-writing workshop (and am about to get certified to do another), written 6 chapters of a children's book, completed a literature course, laid out newsletters and theatre programs...

Hey, wait a minute... I don't need a damn job!

I think Fear sent those resumes out, but something else started a blog, submitted three stories, revised a full-length article, and sent a query letter to a "real" magazine all in a matter of 48 hours.

I don't know how the heating will be paid this winter but I'm exposing myself to all the possibilities.

In the beginning there was the word... "blog"

A few months ago I was chatting with a fellow mom who asked me what I do (she obviously meant other than carting my children around to preschool and dance class and swimming lessons as well as keeping them supplied with nutritious fodder and clean-ish clothes.)

"I'm an aspiring writer," I replied sheepishly.

"Oh, do you blog?"

"Nooo, I don't blog!" said I. (I didn't say that, but I did think it. Being the traditionalist that I am, writing online just doesn't seem real, any more than reading a book on a kindle - or whatever it's called - or listening to music through teeny weeny headphones seems real.)

What I actually said was, "No, I'm more of a paper and pen kinda gal, ya know. I'm not really into the computer that much."

"Oh, you should. I just got asked to write an article for someone because they read my blog."

And my world tipped just a bit.

Fast forward to this week. I have finished my first non-fiction article and I am almost ready to send it off with a query letter. To garner some support in my new endeavor I started chatting with some other writer-moms online. To my utter amazement I discovered they all write online either for publication sites and/or their own blogs. AND THEY GET PAID FOR IT.

World tips completely over and I'm falling head first into cyberspace.

I have been calling myself an aspiring writer for many years now but I was intimidated by the world of dash-your-dreams editors and query letters. But now (dammit) I have no excuse. Just write a little article, get it accepted at one of about a trillion publication sites, and wait for someone to send you a check for, oh, about $2. Who cares, you're published!

And this blog? I'm still loyal to time spent curled up in a chair with journal and fountain pen writing words for no eyes but mine. But if this blog really can help my writing career by forcing me to write everyday - to hone my craft - and maybe, just maybe, catch some editor's eye, then ok, I guess I'll give it a try.

But I do still plan to write for those real publications one day.