I woke up to one
of the greatest gifts that I could have hoped for this morning. I am
not sure how to describe it. About six years ago, I decided that I
got so much enjoyment out of writing that I wanted to make a
conscious effort to hone my skills. I wanted to treat it like a
second job. I wanted to do the work and find a way to make my way in
this world as a writer.
I cut back on the
baking, I put away the quilting, I put less thought to fun activities
and focused as much of my life as possible to telling good stories.
I also set up a
five year plan. A plan to be supporting myself with my writing at
the end of five years. Five years came and went. The ultimate goal
had not been reached. I kept at it. I decided that if I dedicated
myself more fully to the work things would happen for me as I had planned.
I started thinking about changes. Am I doing too much of what
everyone else is doing? Is it just the wrong time? Am I just not
very good at this? Going into year six, I found myself at a
crossroads.
I have been
standing at that crossroads questioning everything. From approach
and Internet accessibility and geography, to officially choosing my
audience and actively pursuing them.
I have put in the
time, the hours, the work, began learning marketing, cover art, and
other essentials. I have even delved into the world of YouTube. I
have had lots of fun with all of it but still, as my sister Vonda
loves to say, no joy. How could something that is giving me new
skills, helping me to grow as a person, and generally makes my life fun
and meaningful not be my purpose? How can I not be reaching the goal
completely? What am I doing wrong? What is wrong with me?
This morning, I
realized the most important thing. I
am still here.
It is something
that I ran across while grieving the death of my late husband, Sam.
The concept is
that you accept that one of the worst things that you can imagine has
happened to you. You also recognize this one thing. I am still
here. This morning I was able to do that.
I worked out a
specific plan for my future that did not work out. I am still here.
All of the hours, the weekends and vacations spent writing. I am
still here. Lightning has not struck me down because the pursued
success was not achieved within the preset time line. I did not wake
up one day with a second head. I am not a pariah of society because
the first plan failed. It was just the first plan.
I looked at what
these last 66 months have gotten me. Over 200 posts on my fiction
blog, two novels, the beginnings of two screenplays, and ideas for
two more novels. Two novellas as well as all of the lovely other
bits and bobs that have popped up randomly over the years. I have
never been without something to do on a Saturday night, my clothes
are always comfortable, and shaving my legs is my option. The venue
is also always my option. I never have to argue with someone over
what music I decide to play. I have laughed and cried a couple of
times. I get a sense of accomplishment and I know that something
solid will still exist long after I am gone.
If the writing is
the potatoes and the plan for being successful is the gravy...I may
not have gravy, but I do have one helluva pile of potatoes.
Gravy is nice but you don’t have to have gravy to enjoy a good
batch of mashed potatoes. Good cooks know that.
Do I have a second
plan? I am glad that you asked that. I do. The second plan is to
call over one of the flying bubbles that is so common in Faerie and
let it guide the way. Flying by the seat of my pants has been
working so far with the fiction, why not let it help me in other
areas as well? Things may not work out but at least I get to see
more of Faerie this way. I know that there will always be potatoes waiting for me. There is nothing like a good batch of potatoes.
Today I would like
to raise my fork in acknowledgement of everyone with naked potatoes.
We’re still here.
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