There’s a disease spreading through the general population and it can be hazardous to our health. It can eek into our everyday lives, infecting our insides and spreading to our loved ones. The more we let it affect us, the more it affects others. It’s called Supposed to Syndrome and it is spread simply by speaking. Continue reading “Supposed To Syndrome”
(BTW, Yes. Yes, this is a Kissing Book)
When I first started reading “Seventh Inning Heat,” by Lyssa Kay Adams (Book 1 in The Vegas Aces Series) I was simply reading it because she is my friend and a fellow author and I wanted to support her. I don’t typically read romance. I don’t usually read about sports (or watch sports or talk about sports). It is a book I never would have picked up if it weren’t for the obligation I felt toward my friend. BUT, that feeling of obligation disappeared after only a few pages. Soon, I was reading for me. I was reading for the characters. And I was reading because the writing was amazing. Continue reading “Seventh Inning Heat Hits a Home Run (Or, How I found myself reading romance & using baseball puns)”
For most of my life, writing has been my passion. It’s always been one of my only passions. Then it became my passion, my hobby and my job. I’ve never had many other things I could say I was really excited about. As I got older I discovered Geek Culture and going to Conventions and now I would definitely call that a hobby. But, for the most part, I’ve never had anything else that I really enjoyed doing outside of writing and reading (and a lot of the time reading was simply used to fuel my writing). Continue reading “I Found a Hobby Not Related to Writing, and I Won’t Feel Guilty About It”
Sometimes, It Hits You…
The other day, I was sitting in a bustling coffee shop while the snow fell haphazardly outside and the wind blew furiously. Folks on either side of me were engrossed in their work, leaned forward toward their computer screens or immersed in vibrant conversation. My computer was open in front of me, the Economist in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. I was engrossed in the words in front of me, trying to decipher the language in the article I was using to research an assignment due the next week and bopping my foot to the Indie Rock dancing out of my headphones when it hit me.
I caught the scene as though I were outside of my body looking in and saw myself sitting there, reading and researching for an article that I would write that would then be published and I would get paid for, and I realized- Yup. I am a writer.
As kids, we all have those milestones that, when we reach them, will signify that we have in fact grown up and reached a new level of maturity. Like, when I can drive I will feel like a grown up. Nope, that didn’t do it…maybe when I can vote…or when I move out…when I get married? We are constantly waiting for that next moment that will tell us we have arrived in a new phase of life.
I think writers experience something similar. Especially if they are slowly transitioning into the world of writing to make money. We rely on these invisible milestones to tell us that we have finally become professional writers. Like setting up a home office, or establishing an LLC or waiting for that first day you don’t have to go into an office. We are constantly waiting.We rely on invisible milestones to tell us we have finally becomes #writers, and we shouldn't. Click To Tweet
And then, we realize, we are just spending our whole lives waiting for the next level.
So, when I caught this out of body image of myself toiling away in a coffee shop while I was once suffering through 8 hours of answering phones or scheduling appointments, I savored it. I may wonder from day to day where my next paycheck will be coming from. I may wish I had the traditional benefits and insurance of a 40 hr, 9-5 job and I definitely face challenges every single day. But, I would rather be facing these challenges knowing that I am doing something I love, rather than stressing over a job I hate.
So, whatever your situation, whether writing is your job or your passion (or both!), stop waiting for the next level or next step to tell you that you have reached some invisible goal. The next time you are sitting down to write, take a moment and take it in. You are doing what you love. You are choosing to pursue your dream and no matter where you are in that pursuit, that’s a big deal. Take a look around, smile and say, “Yup. I’m a writer.”Click To Tweet
Have you ever had an Ah-ha moment where you looked up and realized you were doing exactly what you’ve always wanted to do? I’d love to hear about it!
Ugh, Mondays. Amiright?
Your weekend was probably great. You probably did all the things. Or, even better, did none of the things. Maybe you lounged. Maybe you focused on your writing or curled up in your favorite spot with a good book. Or, maybe you spent your days running kids from activity to activity. Whatever you did, my guess is that when that alarm went off this morning, you wanted your weekend back. Continue reading “Don’t Snooze Your Life Away”
Writing Is Like Breathing (But not in the way you would expect)
Have you ever tried to concentrate on your breathing?
Like, during a meditation or when the doctor tells you to take a deep breath while he’s listening to your heart? Ever notice what happens? Suddenly, the simple act of breathing in becomes incredibly difficult. You’re in the middle of breathing in when he quickly tells you to breath out, but you’re not done breathing in and you don’t have enough air sucked to complete a full breath out and what does oxygen taste like again and why is your heart beating so hard and it’s a wonder you’re not passed out in a gutter somewhere if breathing is this damn difficult… Continue reading “When Thinking Hurts My Writing, I Don’t Think”
She’d always wanted a baby. It was a need so ingrained in her psyche that she would have what she called “arm urges,” moments where she literally ached to hold that warm, wiggling, cooing being in her arms. She’d known she was meant to be a mother the very first time she held her first baby doll and the need only grew as she got older. Even the stories her friends told her of long labor and excruciating pain didn’t deter her. Even when it wasn’t happening, she prayed…someday it would. Continue reading “Fiction 440: Graduation”
His head rested in her lap, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“That was so stupid,” she whispered, fighting to speak around the fist sized lump in her throat. They had promised they would take care of each other during their mission, that’s what partners were for after all. He had held up his end of the deal, she hadn’t. Continue reading “Fiction 440: Cons”
The bright smell of the roses invaded her senses, colliding with the dark cloud that was now her life. She slid her hand across the smooth mahogany box and shook her head, trying to block the memory that was now threatening. But, before she could stop it, she was back there. On that long stretch of highway, her heart light for what would be the last time… Continue reading “Fiction 440: Roses”
Words: Grandaddy, Rose, California
The only thing my Grandaddy left behind when he disappeared was a rose. Continue reading “Fiction 440: Empty”