Work-out Writer: Start off wild, uninhibited, and then exert that CONTROL . . . .

 

Control . . .

Wild  & Free . . .

Workout Writer: You have to find the Way that works for you. But if you are at a weight or goal plateau/finding yourself obsessing over the same danged ole paragraph or two or three over and over again. Wondering, “Will I EVER fit into those jeans I love, run that marathon, lower my cholesterol, feel healthier/write this goddamm book?” Then perhaps you can consider  finding your wild and free, flailing and flinging  yourself on the treadmill/your words on the page; and then, when you are sweaty and all fired up/have your crappy ass first draft, you exert that CONTROL.

Work-out:

When someone asks me what I do to keep in shape, I will simply say, “I do treadmill aerobics dance for an hour, and then I do about thirty minutes of mat work.” That’s my process, I say.

But there’s so much more to that “process.”

Children play with abandon, but they often have their own “rules” and process – there’s PURPOSE to their play – be like that.

On the treadmill, I  jump, skip, hop, kick out my legs, run full out for nuttin, and in between those high-energy aerobics moves,I tone it down a bit to let my heart rate lower. What I’m doing is uninhibited and free—I don’t over-think it; I do what feels good, what feels happy, whatever comes to mind without a plan. Does this mean I am “out of control” on the treadmill? Not exactly, for I do have to maintain some control or else I could injure myself–I have to Pay Attention. However, for the most part, I’m all over that thang, sweating my ass off. I am at the edge of my endurance, and the endorphins are KAPOW WHUPOW! A little chaos is good; a little wild jittery is wonderful.

This is a good example of what I do on the treadmill, except I do not turn around backwards because I don’t feel that’s safe.

My goal is to stretch that leg back even more – but with CONTROL! I had no flexility even a year ago.

When I am ready for my mat work, I’m nice and warmed up. This is when I exert the most CONTROL in my workout. I use dumbbells or my body weight or a ball or some other “device” to challenge my body to the very edge of its endurance, but with CONTROL. The stronger my body becomes, the more control I have over it–repeat that to yourself.

An example would be: Lying on mat, holding ten pound dumbbells in my hands, I do chest presses while also keeping my legs lifted from the mat (as the photo above shows, except with or without ball, and using the dumbbells)—as I do my chest presses with my legs lifted, I’m working many muscles at once, and I am very careful with my CONTROL. Without control comes chaos—injury! And during my mat work, I do not want chaos—injury—or flailing about.

As my body grows stronger, as I challenge it to do more and more, and different, workouts, I can see the progress of my hard work. Things I didn’t think I could ever do before suddenly have become “easier.” My flexibility is better—this coming from a girl who had practically no flexibility.

No one is looking – and if they are? So what? Stay in your own zone–ignore everything around you but your body and what it is doing-have fun! No one sees your manuscript until you want them to, so stay in your zone, and have fun!

That wild abandon paired with the CONTROL of my mat work creates the health and body I want to have—strong, flexible, heart and lungs healthy, higher endurance, etc. I feel confident, and proud of my accomplishments. And I want to do more, more, more, because it feels so danged good.

Writer:

When people ask me, “What is your writing process?” I always say, “I dunno. I just sit my ass down and write.” But of course  there is more to my process than that.

The first draft of my work is written with abandon, wild and free, without over-thinking it; whatever comes out of my pea-headed black holed brain is fine with me; let it come on! It’s fun, my endorphins are high, I’m feeling GREAT! Does it mean I have zero control? Nope, for the more I write, the better I naturally do the kinds of writing that will mean less work later on. Meaning, I have a grasp of grammar and punctuation “rules” even if I break them; my work comes out, even in draft, with paragraphs and dialogue and narrative and in chapters, automatically. My very first novel was almost all narrative-aw lawd! It was  a HOT MESS! Well, so what? Look at what’s happened since then: four published novels, a novella, and one set to be released in September. GO FOR IT, y’all!

Then comes the “mat work” of my manuscript. Where I exert the most control. Tweaking, editing, rewriting. I look for repetition, for too much internal dialogue/monologue, for ‘tic words,” for things that seem out of character or voice or POV. I read my manuscript a gazillion times and in different formats, such as, Kindle Fire, regular Kindle, my computer, printed out, let my Kindle Fire read it to me.  I am concentrating on the work with CONTROL. I know the rules so I can either break them, or tweak something to make it better.

Once I allowed myself to know my process and to OWN IT, I’m betting that each novel I write will become “leaner” and stronger, because I am exerting that control better as I become a stronger more flexible writer, willing to take some chances or try something different.

This wild abandon paired with the CONTROL of my re-writes/edits creates the kind of novel I can be proud of, one with which I am confident. And I want to do more, more, more, because it feels so danged good.

(Consult your doctor and your good sense before you begin this, or any other high energy workout–in fact, consult your doc before you begin any exercise program. I always say this–bears repeating. And don’t compare yourself to others, not to me, or anyone else, you hear?)

Just Do It

Just do it

Work-out Writer: Muh-muh-muh-muh-my Persona(s)–The Bionic (writer) Woman

finding strength

Three times a week I put on my work-out clothes, take my gym bag of goodies, and head out to Waynesville Recreation Center, whereupon I put on my running shoes, climb upon a treadmill, and work my ass off—running, skipping, jumping, flailing, hopping, and jitterying about. The music is blaring in my ears (which is a joy, for I don’t have a chance to listen to music as much as I’d like). I am facing forward, seemingly in my own world as I do what gives me great pleasure—

I thought I was an island of me, until people began to approach me. GMR calls them my “fans” and it makes me laugh, the sorta-kinda-irony of it being I am more well-known in that gym than I am as an author here in my little town, or at least it seems that way. Even outside the gym, I am stopped and told, “Hey! You’re that woman in the gym! The one on the treadmill!” I don’t mind. What makes me happy about it are the things they tell me—that I’m a bionic woman, superwoman, that I have so much energy, that I am—and this one really makes me happy—an inspiration to them to work harder. When I am gone away from the gym when I travel, they seem to miss me, asking about me, asking where I’ve been. I feel missed. I feel thought about. I feel substantial. When I’ve worked extra extra hard, they notice: “You sure tore it up today! That treadmill must be broken!” I grin at them and say, “I sure did, didn’t I?” What they don’t know is how they are inspiring me to work harder–because they notice, because they see me, because I don’t want to let them down. I want to be the person they think I am. I want to be better and better and better.

Far as I know, none of them know I am an author. They all know me as “that bionic woman on the treadmill.” It’s a persona I have come to love.  Those who see me on that treadmill, and then on the matt-work afterwards, see my dedication, my passion, my energy, my love for what I do. They see how hard I work, how I kick-ass and then give a little more, and then more, until I have no more to give, and then I try to push just a tiny bit more. They see me sweat, hair flying, body tensing and releasing over and over, the explosive action of my plyometric movements, the intensity of the workout. They see all of this because it is right there in front of them.

If only my readers could see me as I create—see the outside and the inside of me, the workings of me. For my writing is manifested in the same kind of way—through energy and love and passion and hard work and kicking ass and then giving just a little more and a little more until I am exhausted but happy, happy danged ole happy, and then I push a tiny bit more. They could see me staring ahead at my screen, fingers flying over the keyboard, my brain filled with activity—tensing and releasing as my synaptic firing flings words and characters and setting onto the page. All for you.  But you cannot see that, my dear readers. Unlike my “fans” at the gym, I sit alone, out of your sight, working so very hard for you. What you do not know, just as the “gym-fans” do not, is that you are also inspiring me to work harder–because I don’t want to let you all down. I want to be the person you think I am, and more. I want to be better and better and better. I want to give you joy when you read my offerings. I want to make you think, and laugh, and cry, and wonder, and wander, and I want you to ask for more from me and of me–because I have more to give, so much more.

our bodies are wonderlands . . .

Because I love it. I am passionate about the writing, my books, my words, the language, just as I am about being fit and healthy and strong. I want to make you happy. I want to make you proud of me. I want to inspire you. I want to be known as the Bionic Woman of writing. I want you to miss me when I am not around.

When you pick up one of my books and read, imagine me—metaphorical sweat dripping, hair flying, body tensing and releasing over and over, the explosive action of my plyometric movements, the intensity of my workout. The passion. The love.

For you.

Our minds are wonderlands

The work-out persona and the writer persona are so very much the same.

Oprah says, “Don’t Be Attached to the Outcome . . . .” AHA! What about you and your “Goals?” . . .

“When you have done everything that you can do, surrender. Give yourself up to the power and energy that’s greater than yourself  . . . and then don’t be attached to the outcome.”

When I read this last night in the January issue of O (Oprah) Magazine, I had one of her “Aha!” moments. For “attaching myself to the outcome” was exactly the thing I’ve always done. I’ve always been goal-oriented, driven, conscientious, competitive—nothing wrong with those traits, but when “attaching myself to the outcome” of my work, I create a never-ending river of rapids where, despite what I believe, I am not in control, and in fact outside forces and circumstance are completely in control of me as I hurtle from rock to rock, place to place, every so often my head above water, but so often I’m barely able to catch my breath.

In my life as a published author, this manifests itself as: I write the best books I know how with sincere love and hope and a whole lot of hard work and sacrifice. Where I attach myself to the outcome is when I angst and worry and make myself half-sick (or wholly sick) that I’m not achieving some “Desired Outcome” such as a literary prize, or a best seller list, or a review in some Big Magazine, or high on some ranking, etc etc etc—those are things for which I really have little control, so I’m tumbling willy nilly down those rapids, trying to grab onto slippery rocks (and banging myself up in the process), or grabbing at things just out of my reach. I attach my self worth to some outcome, instead of to what I have already achieved. I do not live in the Right Now where I see each step I make, each tiny,  or large, goal that I achieve in that moment as a success, as a part of my journey–I have not been paying attention, living my life for the moment. Everything has been about attaching myself to the OUTCOME–some faraway thing I’m hurtling towards.

What Oprah said so resonated with me, I felt my innards relax, gave myself permission to let go. It helps that I was ready for this statement, because already I’d been letting some things go, already assessing my life as an author, a woman, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, a friend. How many moments have I lost because I did not pay attention to the Right Now and instead kept looking so very far ahead? Well, actually, that’s still never-ending-circle thinking! Instead, I think, “Right now, I’m feeling happy to share this AHA moment with you.”

What about how goal-oriented we are when it comes to fitness and health—and our weight? I mean, it’s all goal-oriented in the weight-loss field isn’t it? Actor Before; Actor After—everyone sees the outcome of the actor’s work on Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers, and let the games begin as you look at the “After” and say, “I want that! That’s what I want!” All the betweens for this person are unknown or forgotten.

But what if you didn’t attach yourself to the outcome? What if you didn’t attach some self-worth to the end-goal? What if you said to yourself, “Right now, this moment, I can’t control some future outcome—I don’t know what the future will bring. However! I can control the Right Now.” What if you lowered the FUTURE stakes by concentrating on the RIGHT NOW stakes.

When you say, for example, “I want to be healthy, in shape, and lose fifty pounds,” you are thinking of OUTCOME—the End Goal, some Thing that is off into the future. What if

Rainbows are right now; pots of gold are some goal where you miss the rainbow in the searching

you changed that to say, “Right now, I am going to go to the gym.” You go to the gym. At the gym you say, “Right now, I am going to jump on the treadmill and walk/run/walk-run.” Then you do it. You step off the treadmill and say, “I feel pretty good. Right now, I’m going to do some yoga/pilates/weights/stretching.” And you do it. You go home and you feel great, so Right Now you eat a sensible meal with some protein and carb. You say, “Right now, I’m going to eat an apple for dessert.” Who wants to think, “I can never have dessert again!” Bleah! BORING! UNREALISTIC! But, “Right now, I’m going to eat an apple for dessert,” is manageable, right?

Each thing you do, you do In The Moment, not thinking of outcomes, not basing your worth on some future goal, but on each goal no matter how small it may seem. You celebrate every small thing, or large thing, that you do and live in the RIGHT NOW.

Perhaps when you tell yourself, “Right now I’m going to go for a walk;” “Right now I’m not going to eat that candy bar;” “Right now I’m going to go to the gym and work out;” “Right now I’m happy because I lost a pound;” “Right now I’m happy because I was able to walk up the stairs without gasping for air;” “Right now I feel really great because I played catch with my kids/grandkids;” “Right now I look kick-ass in these jeans that I am able to now button,” you give yourself permission to live your life as it unfolds, in incremental joys, instead of always looking ahead and feeling frustrated because you Aren’t There Yet.

Stay in the moment(s) you are in. Enjoy your life RIGHT NOW. Celebrate every little, and big, moment in this Right Now.

How do you think that would feel? To live in the Right Now? Not to attach your happiness, your self-worth, your life on some outcome, but to let go of that and live your live in the moments? Why not give it a try?

 Right now, I am going to watch the rain fall on the smoky mountains and the birds flocking to the feeders.

My “WTF is wrong with you?” brain and the hotel experience . . . LAWD!

Upon entering hotel, sniff. If the hotel smells funny, a little nitty-ass irritating squeaky little fucker in brain thinks, “Hmmm, what’s that? Are they not cleaning the hotel regularly?” Then do a visual once-over, glancing around lobby and desk area, and if clean and sparkly, sigh with relief and check in. Also, the once-over is to check for Weirdo Men. Weirdo Men are men who will try to catch your name and room number and then follow you to the elevator and then to your room, whereupon they turn into maniacs who push you into room and have their way with you and then . . . then .  . .  *don’t think about it.* It can happen, that little squeaky-voiced feker says.

After check-in, and no one pays you any mind except for that one dude who grins at you and says, “Evening,” and you smile fetchingly and say, “Evening,” and the squeaky voiced pecker-head says, “The handsome friendly ones are the maniacs, you fool!,” you enter room, notice scent. If not fresh, then see above. If fresh, sigh with relief and a La Tee Dah air of comfort.

Luggage must go on top of something—in the case there are verminy critters running around, you don’t want them climbing into your luggage and setting up residence, where they will happily make a new home once you arrive back at the little log house. Lawd! Little bastard vermins. Even if the hotel is sparkly clean, a “nice” hotel, vermin are sneaky little shitters. Remember reading how even five-star hotels with 2000 thread-count sheets have been cited for vermin. Yeah. You read that somewhere. Uh hunn, and heard it on the news! Yeah.

*maniac played, unwillingly and unknowingly, by Charles Mills*

Check under the bed—sigh with relief if the bed is one of those kinds where nothing or no one can get under them. Check the closet—maybe a maniac is hiding in there. Try to ignore the thought that if a maniac IS hiding in there, as soon as you open the closet he will jump out and maniac your ass to a bloody pulp.

Go to bathroom, look around. Notice things and nod head in satisfaction. Pee. Hope toilet seat is as clean as it looks. Look in shower—better not be any gunky crap or else feet will tingle when in shower because you will imagine invisible nasties crawling onto feet from the shower floor.

Back in the main room, pull back covers and inspect sheets. Are they a crisp blinding white? Well, they better be! Wait! Are those pillow cases wrinkled? Wrinkled from someone else’s head? There’s about six pillows on that bed. Maybe the cleaning crew was mixed up and only thought they changed all of the pillow cases—sniff test. Ewwwww! Two of them smell like someone’s head. You do not sleep on head-scented pillow cases! Ewww! Throw the two pillows that smell heady on the floor so won’t accidentally grab them in the night and hold them close. Use un-heady scented pillows. Sniff sheets—you never know; smile with relief when they smell fresh. Ahh.

You usually wipe the remote with anti-bacterial wipes or lotion, but! you saw this genius solution on a rerun of the sitcom “Til Death”—it was supposed to be “funny” as in “this dude is really freaking nuts” kind of funny, but your pea-headed brain went, “OHHH! Hooya!” Take a baggie, pick up the remote with the baggie, turn it inside out to where hotel remote is in baggie, and you can push the buttons through the plastic, never once having to touch nasty old remote. Ha! Yeah you are so clever!

Time for beddy-bye! BUT! OH NO! LAWD! LAWD! Sheet inspection isn’t over. You must remember to wake around the magical hour of between 2AM and 3AM—anywhere in that time-span—to quietly grab your cellphone, gently lift the covers and AHA! Shine the cell light on the sheets where your legs are to make sure no bedbugs are there, because somewhere you read, and saw on the news, or someone told you, that the magical hour for bedbugs is around 2AM. Sigh with relief when all is well. Sleep comes easy.

Alien Seed Pod Pouch! LAWD!

Then the dreams come.  About aliens who live in the mattress and scare the bejeebus out of you, then have a dream within a dream where you wake and say, “Whew, glad that mattress alien was only a dream,” and suddenly! The mattress moves and undulates—“AAAUUGGH! It IS real! There IS a hotel mattress alien! AHHHHHHGGGHHH!” Wake up again, for real, sigh with relief that there are no hotel mattress-living aliens that look strangely like weird babies with high intelligence who look at you askance and as if you are “not quite right.”

Push one of the heady pillows over the light coming from the door, and the other heady pillow over the clock light. Finally fall into exhausted sleep.

Morning comes.  You rise. No aliens, vermin, critters, heady pillows, or maniacs have entered the blissful sanctum of your hotel room.

Take shower. Come out of bathroom nekkid. Wait! Can people see into your room through the spy-hole? Omg! Next time remember to bring a piece of tape to put over the spy hole. Grin.

Check out. Hope nothing but your own luggage and personal germs have left with you.

What? Who me?

Think, while flying down the interstate with the music blaring and wind tossing your hair: You are one cray-cray bitch, Miss Kathryn Magendie. One completely cray-cray bitch.

But you don’t care.

Layer the paint. Snap the images. Taste taste taste. Work your asses off.

It only seems I was relaxing one earlier summer – but the work is always there . . . I am most always working- see the unfinished manuscript? That was done and then another began . . . on it goes

I am an impatient person. Now that I have that out of the way, I will also tell you that despite that fact, I understand that I must often corral this impatience, especially when it comes to Goals and Dreams and Desires.

All y’allses, I would lay bet that most all of the time when you hear of “Over-night Successes” those successes were fashioned from much hard work. Take the musical group The Black Keys for example. They slogged along ten years before bursting out of the gate. It would seem they obtained their “fame” in a blazing flash of light, when instead, if you’ll excuse the cliche, they’d been burning that candle at both ends.

A photographer may take hundreds and hundreds of shots just to find that one perfect “money” shot. The photographer, unless very lucky at that moment, doesn’t sit and wait for the perfect shot and then *click* – there you go, la tee dah. No, the photographer hunts and looks and snaps and snaps and snaps that shutter countless times, over and over and over, and then within all those moments the photograph finds The One Great Moment that snatches up his/her breath and the world stops spinning until the breath is released. There. There. That’s it.

A painting may have layers upon layers of paint, as the artist searches for the image he/she has dreamed, desired, lost sleep/weight/friends and family over. The one that finally has the artist putting down the brush. And even then, the artist may eye the

I took shot after shot after shot of the Blue Moon and still couldn’t get what was in “my inner eye*

painting with imagination and doubt. But rarely will the artist slap some paint on the canvas and call it a day.

I used to think if I were a good cook, it would mean that my instincts would be so keen that I should be able to throw things in the pot and magically they would taste good. It wasn’t until years later I learned how the greatest of chefs actually TASTE their food – taste the ingredients, taste along the way, taste at completion. KABOING! Why, who knew? One must taste the elements, taste along the way, and then taste the finished product to make sure it turns out how it should be: Tasty.

Read the above and insert words to make it about writing. Yup, in my early writing life, I used to think that if I were a Great Writer, or even a Good One, whatever I slapped onto the page must be genius right then and there. That re-writes meant I was not a Good Writer. Rewrites and revisions meant I lacked. Oh dear lawd in the highest of clouds! How wrong wrong wrong that was, and is, and forevermore shall be! Rewrites and revisions are the heart of writing. I can’t tell you how many times I go through my novels, time after time, layering that paint, snapping image after image, tasting tasting tasting TASTING, until I have it as Right as I can right it.

Giving up? No. Not an option. However, there is the: maybe I need to try a different path; one that doesn’t take me to a *see sign*

Take all that above and insert words to make this about many goals: weight loss and/or becoming fit, that big promotion at work, the Dream you’ve been Dreaming. Sure, there are always exceptions to some of these, and some people find Luck propels them just where they wanted to be with the snap of a finger (though I’d wonder still how many years they’d spent working towards their goal before Luck slapped them upside their heads). But, y’allses, nothing comes without the hard work – or maybe I should say:

Nothing STAYS without the hard work

Enter the magical gate, walk the magical path – then work your ass off.

Layer the paint. Snap the images. Taste taste taste. Achieve.

Ten kick your ass truths – I ain’t playin’ today y’allses

Sometimes I just feel like kicking ass. When I was a personal trainer, some of my clients called me MB (Mean Bitch). But, my clients loved me because though I could be tough, I was also fair and empathetic and understanding—while kicking their ass. When I edit, I am the same way—fair and empathetic and understanding, while kicking ass. The result, the outcome, of the ass-kicking over-rides the actual ass-kicking every time. Yeah.

———————-

1. One or the other is often true for many relationships: The love you give isn’t always returned with equal measure. The love you receive is not always the love you return. Love isn’t always a balanced world. Once we let go of the idea of complete balance in a relationship, there’s freedom and happiness to be found.

2. You can put your entire heart, blood, sweat, tears into your work and still are rejected. Sometimes it really is not “the other guys,” sometimes it really is all about how your work is not ready.

3. You read the above and it makes you mad. You say, “I’ll show her! I’ll show them all!” and sometimes you do! Yes! And sometimes it still is that the work is not ready. And sometimes, it is only that you just have not found the right person/place/thing. Such is the sucky part of the writing business (or whatever business). Welcome aboard the crazy train! If you want it bad enough, you’ll figure out what you need to do or to change or start over.

step up and see what’s around that corner

4. If you aren’t having sex with your partner as often as you used to, maybe it’s time to *gasp* find out why by asking. Maybe it has nothing to do with “I like sex better because . . .” or “I have a higher sex drive because . . .” maybe it’s something worth digging out and examining. Are you groaning “Noooo! Not the talk thing!”? Well, then, keeping enjoying those really awesome showers!

5. You can call yourself a Writer anytime you want to! Who’s the “you aren’t qualified to do that” police? No one’s going to come to your house and stand over your shoulder to see if you “deserve” some title. And it’s just a title. If you never actually, seriously, write, what’s the point? Can’t throw a dime without hitting a writer these days, so why not be one who writes with passion and with purpose? Own it, y’all!

What does food mean to you? You may be surprised at the answer. I was.

6. No, you can’t lose weight/get in shape with that pill they just touted on that television commercial. You stand up from the couch. You decide not to eat another helping even when you’ve had enough, just because it tastes good. You make choices, one at a time, that move you towards your goal. You move your ass and you step away from the table. You can forgive yourself when you are off-track, but you don’t give yourself permission to whine about how it’s just soooo haarrd—of course it’s hard! And it may suck, but how come so many of us have become allergic to hard work/determination/movement? Humans thrive on discovery and movement and delight and wonder–sitting on our couches with a tater-chip bag watching everyone else do these things, well, what kinda life is that?

7. There really is no magic in life and work. There is hard work and determination. Do people sometimes seem to have magic around them where things come to them as if on a sparkly wand of good timing and good luck and good genes? Yeah, but either they really are an anomaly, or maybe just maybe we don’t know their backstory of hard work and determination.

It’s easy to be sucked down – but then again, I wonder what’s in that hole?

8. We spend a lot of time reading advice on social networking because we are either looking for guidance, or we are looking for someone with a shared experience who “made it” and that may mean we can make it too, or we are looking for an excuse for why things haven’t worked out for us because lookee there someone else had the same thing happen to them so all is lost, or we keep hoping we’ll hear what we want to, or we sincerely want to be the best goddammed writer/person/mother/father/chef/accountant/whatever-whomever we can be. So take the advice that sings to you in harmony and discard the advice that is discordant to your life—you’ll need to figure out if you are avoiding truths or embracing reality.

9. The easiest thing to do is to ignore the hard thing. It’ll keep coming back to haunt you until you deal with it. And sometimes it sucks mightily to deal with it. But sometimes that ghost when faced by strong determined you turns out to be a puny little bastard after all.

just under the surface there may be wondrous things to find

10. Excuses are weak. Failures at least mean you tried. Excuses just sound whiny. Failure is often a misunderstood word. Failure often means you went for it and it just didn’t work out. Respect the trying. Each failure means you are living and doing and working and trying. Excuses are boring—no one wants to hear it. Failure is interesting; it brings about conversation—what did you do? And what happened? Wow, yeah, that’s happened to me! How can we change that? Okay . . . let’s try this instead.

Now, if I pissed you off—good! Go prove me wrong and kick some ass. If I made you go YEAH I’m with you! Good, keep kicking ass! Today is another day. Make it count. Get up. Get out. Get over it. Get busy. Get real. I really do want to see you happy and successful—whatever those words mean to you in the life you choose and want to live.

I *heart* YOU! *muwah*

Change for my blog schedule . . .

Hmmm. Been thanking deep thoughts, y’allses

Hello Dear Ones!

Summer is here. Vacations. Traveling. Outdoor Activities. Novel-writing/Arts-Creative Endeavors (The Lightning Charmer for me and whatever you may be writing, creating, etc! And if you are creating something, then tell me about it!).

Following our paths here, there, yonder . . .

As well as “events” — I have speaking engagements more often in the warm months, and as well, though I haven’t done a booksigning in maybe two years, I finally gave in to a “group author signing” at Blue Ridge Books in Waynesville on July 14–lawd–where I’ll be signing for The Graces Trilogy and Sweetie along with fellow Bellebooks/Bell Bridge Books author Kimberly Babb Brock (The River Witch) and another author whom I haven’t met yet. We’re going to have music and food, too, so it should be fun, which is what enticed me to do it :-D. If you are in the area, come join us!

Don’t wanna hear you ain’t writing or moving or eating right – huhn -don’t make me come put a ass whoopin on you!

So, what I’ve decided for my blog schedule–and whether it is temporary or permanent I haven’t yet decided–is to post less frequently.

Ha! *personal trainer evil eye!*

just cause I post about it fewer times, don’t mean y’allses out there shouldn’t be moving, strengthening, stretching. For motivation, see archived tags/categories here on personal training!

I’ll continue to post a “Friday Photo No Words” on Fridays since my photography is something I am experimenting with, and you don’t have to read me going blab blabbity blab!  However, I’ll be posting only twice a month on Wednesdays–alternating between Monday Classroom and I am your Personal Trainer (or I am your Guinea Pig). The first Wednesday of the month and the third Wednesday of the month.

This’ll help you all so you aren’t bald in the eyes from reading so much yappity do dah day  - haw!

Try out some new products and let me know if you liked them, or not –ewwwww on the vodka here–and maybe I’ll try them for my next I am your Guinea Pig” post . . .

And you can see Monday Classroom archives as well if ye’s wants a boost to rememorate sumpin. Write write write! write with abandon; edit with a keen critical eye!

If I have a special announcement, I will post that off-schedule, of course. I love letting you all know when I have some news or my books are on promo, or etc etc etc.

take some time to relax and have fun this summer, even if it’s just to study the inside of your walk-about hat

There are so many social networking sites now, I know many of you, like me, are scrambling to keep up. So’s I’m lessening that load. You can visit me/friend me on Facebook–where I am fairly active, and go there at least once a day if not more on other days. I ain’t as active on twitter, but I am there. I’m also on Pinterest and fiddle-dee-dee around in that.

Jump in the car and see things!

Appreciate you, my regulars and new-visitors/followers! Thank you!

Stop and smellses the flowerses – especially with a friend

Now, y’all go Do the Day and I’ll see you all on Friday!

Note: For my vacation this summer, lucky me: I’ll be visiting my Lil Boop  in Oregon from June 26 through July 11 – leaving my dawgs, the ghost dawg, GMR, and our critters here in the little log house to fend for they-selves. I’m hoping to post ahead of schedule, but if not – I know all y’allses folkses understand!

Monday Classroom: Facing fear – A monster at the window, or only a little twig?

Fear does a good old job of holding us back. Fear can take the disguise of other emotions—anger, or depression, or timidity, or it hides itself as other maladies that make us feel less than we are, or even physically ill as we seep into negativity or panic. When we do not face it, the fear can grow into a snarling drooling stomping all-consuming monster even if its only a figment of our over-active desire to make sure we don’t Mess Up.

How do you handle your monster? Hide in bed with your head under the covers, live in a glass bubble, never take chances, or lead a very charmed (and unnatural?) life?

I recently watched a biography of actor Don Knotts most notable as the deputy from the iconic Andy Griffith Show. The first acting part he tried out for he was soundly and critically rejected, and he went home to West Virginia (his home state; mine, too) with dog tail between his legs. But that dog grabbed him by the pant leg and wouldn’t let go. The “I want this” dog. Eventually, he tried again and again and would find some success only to have it taken away. Yet, despite being knocked down just as he thought he was moving up, Knotts ended up as one of the most well-known and beloved characters/actors on television. What people didn’t know is how his fears never really left him. It manifested itself in sicknesses that were mostly “all in his head.” He may have never learned how to over-come that fear completely, but he never let it stop him from doing what he longed to do, what he loved: acting, entertaining. Until he died in 2006, he worked at what made him both happy and terrified.

I think how in the past my own fears have held me back from what I wanted to do and to be. My fears led me to let my writing languish for years and years—it wasn’t until my forties that I began writing seriously again; my debut novel Tender Graces wasn’t published until I was near 52. With two more novels released after that, and a novella, and with a novel soon to be released, I’m now less likely to hide from the monster tapping at my window, well, because the stakes are higher and there are people depending on me. Because mostly because the dog has me by my pant leg and won’t let go. I want this. I long for it. I love it. I take all the ‘stuff’ that comes with it.

But just because I’m less likely to hide now, it doesn’t mean that fear-monster doesn’t still tap tap tap. I can rise, open the window, and face it head on—sometimes in facing the monster it runs away, a big silly bully. Other times, the fear-monster roars at me, its sour breath rushing up against me as it tries to repel me and keep me cowed. And then there are the times I open that window and what seemed huge and scary was nothing more than a tiny branch scratching against the window, after all.

As writers, or poets, or musicians, dancers, business owners, baristas, waiters, accountants, politicians-(though this is oft-times debatable!), as Humans, we struggle with putting ourselves out there. When we show our face to the world through our work that we love, others have a glimpse into something deeply personal. We reveal hidden truths about who we are, our experiences; we place our guts on a plate.

How vulnerable it is to have your work out into the winds, scattered here there and yonder, to have people judge it (and many times in a public way) and thus judge you. But despite that, we do it again, and again, and again, don’t we?  We work hard and hope for the best. Open the window and face the monster every time we create something and then send it out into the big wide old world. Right? That is what you are doing, isn’t it?

If we create (or do anything else) in a sealed vacuum, we are not Living, we are only Being. We are not Experiencing life, but letting it pass us by as we watch, peeking out from beneath our covers. Sometimes taking risks or chances or facing our fears leads to disappointment or a seeming “bad” thing, but I’m up for taking the chance anyway, because sometimes it does not lead to disappointment but to success, or the “bad thing” leads me on to a “good thing.” And there is only one way to find out, isn’t there? And really, if you find out you weren’t meant to pen the Great American Novel and/or find success on the New York Times Best-sellers List, then what? What’s next? What’s for you next? Aren’t you curious?

There is one word I’ve often used in the past and I simply cannot stand to use it any longer: Regret. A remedy to Regret is Action, right? We can fall on our arses; but we will not regret the action of trying, for we then rise up and try again. Action is a better word for me than Regret. What about you?

Action moves us forward. Regret keeps us stagnant or moving backward.

With each novel, story, essay, poem, memoir, or whatever it is that we do, we set ourselves up for someone somewhere to dislike our work and perhaps even to ream us in a public way. Well, you know, who gives them the Power over us? Who gives them permission to make us feel like shit? Um y’all, guess what? We do. Folks, most times the people who do not like our stuff forget about us shortly after they decide we aren’t their cup o’ tea and they go on to the next thing. But do we forget about them? Nope. We keep them close to us so we have an excuse for not taking action because gosh darn it don’t we just suck. Well, that’s a bit o’ the bullcrapadoodle-doo-doo, don’t you think? Yeah. That’s us creating the very monster we are hiding from. Huhn.

We are who we are; we are who we write, we write who we are—to touch another human being with your words/work is one of the greatest feelings ever, a joy, a measure of success, a beautiful light of trust. And sometimes we do have the privilege of touching another through our work.

I open the window and face the monster scratching at my window or only a little twig swaying in the wind. But at that moment before discovery of monster or twig, I hold my breath, lift the window, lean forward, and wait for what will come.

Join me?

We are born with a purpose to find ways to create: we are creative beings

a girl & her hat & her dog-setting down words

Mom’s gift to me- her quilting

If you call yourself a writer/artist/quilter/photographer/musician/etc, then you know the kaleidoscope of angst and joy and marvel and frustration and success and failure that comes with our creative identities. Or, perhaps you are questioning whether you can call yourself Creative? I’m surely not in a position to define what makes for, say, A Writer, but if I tried to, I’d say: you are a writer if at times you want to throw everything you have ever written in a big word-funeral pyre and dance around it nekkid laughing hysterically while it burns burns BURNS and you’ll become a cat enthusiast or collect rubber bands, anything but to be a writer. Instead, you take a deep breath and you get back to the work of writing.

awooooOOOoooo

Here’s what I imagined would happen when I received word that my first novel would be published: I’d jump up, scream WHAHOOO!, run to hug Good Man Roger, email gamillions of people, and then go celebrate with Ketel One and tonics. Here is what really happened: I’m sitting alone in the dark. I’m sipping Deep Creek Blend, the sun just slipping over the Smoky Mountains. I read the email of how Bellebooks wants to offer me a contract. There is no sound but Not Quite Fat Labrador’s snoring. I stand, walk dazed around the little log house, and it is hours later before I tell anyone—because I might jinx it. Because it may not be Real. Because I don’t deserve it. Because something will happen to screw it up. Now, first novel has become second, then third, and soon novella and fourth novel. Have I done any real celebrating? I guess not.

inspiration in nature

Hold on, I’m going to jump up and do a jig (fiddle music here–*kat does a moonshined Hill-William jig*). Okay, I’m back…thanks, whew, I needed that celebration for what I have accomplished. Now you do a jig for your accomplishments – and don’t sit here and tell me you do not have any! *eagle eyeing you* – I Accomplished Something before my novels were published – I just didn’t let myself believe in that. So – do your Jig! Come on – right now – I’ll wait *Jeopardy music here*

finding beauty in our world

Anyone who writes knows the long, hard, frustrating, maddening journey to novel/book/any publication. The work has only just begun. The writing, the tweaking, the querying, the rejections, and then finally the acceptance are only parts of the complete package that make the word Author. Sure, there are “overnight successes” who push out a book in three days and it’s picked up by a big time publisher and hits the New York Times bestseller list two minutes later and the author is soon rolling buck-nekkid on his/her bed atop a pile of cash. In reality, most “overnight successes” have worked their arses off to make their dreams come true. The rest of us are just awed to finally see our works in print or completing a project (while secretly wishing we’ll be rolling buck-nekkid on a pile of cash *teeheehee*).

Here’s the thing, my friends: each of us is born with a purpose, even if that purpose is only to live to tell a story or paint a picture, or quilt a quilt, or design a building, or Create Something. Our voices matter; we all have experiences to set down in our own way, secrets to whisper in the dark or take to the light, or ideals to shout that facilitate change. There is the purpose for which we live: we must reveal the stories in whatever forum we find inspiration from – all of us are creative in some way: Believe This.

capture the mystery of our lives

Thornton Wilder says, “…the work is not a thing that we make, but an already-made thing which we discover.”

So, what of your story? What do you long to say so your words are scattered to the winds of the universe, finding root and then growing thick and strong, the growth reaching up and reaching out? How will you find your way to your voice?

(a version of this post was first posted at Brian’s Guest Author site)
Photos taken by Kat (me!)

Mardi-Gras/Birthday Supper, Riding the RollFast, So long to some things and hello to others,

I had a wonderful birthday Saturday. If you are with me on Facebook, you’ve already seen the photos from my bike ride on my RollFast Flightweight bike, and then our Regulars (three of our friends who we have over regularly) over to a Mardi-Gras/Birthday supper. Wheeee!

I’m deep into writing VK III now, and as well working on Rose & Thorn and some other projects. Which means my visiting you all is disjointed and willy nilly. I do try to get out and visit and see what you all are up to, for I enjoy it. However, in reality, I know I can’t get around like I used to and for this I apologize to you. I know you all are busy and still you come by to support and say hello. I do try to keep up with things on Facebook because I can see things at a glance or see networked blogs, so if you are on FB, please come friend me so I can keep up with you that way, too! Also, those “subscribe to this blog” things help, for they go directly to my hotmail account and I can see them and click on them.

Do you know I went the entire night Saturday at the little log house while our friends were over with my socked-feet? I completely forgot to put on my shoes and didn’t even realize it until later that evening after everyone was gone and I was readying myself for bed *laughing* . . . oh well . . . haw!

For “writing stuff Monday,” I’ll leave you today with an “article” I wrote for BelleBooks Blog. I’ll be doing a series of posts for them here and there. This one is “Why I’m Giving Up Booksignings.” Since I decided this, it feels as if a fifty-pound weight has left my shoulders! Now I can concentrate on other events here and there as time lets me, like the nursing home I’ll be visiting next month, libraries, book clubs (I love book clubs and libraries!), and other events such as those. Skyping with book clubs is fun – if you have a book club and Skype and are interesting in meeting, just email me *smiling* Now I can concentrate on my writing more, as well. Believe me, the best part of book signings is meeting people, but the focus strays from that and it wears on me. Concentrating on other kinds of events will lift me up, and I hope others, too.

down in the valley

Now, I must get to work on VK III. This book has taken me on a journey I did not expect. I had to delete thousands and thousands of words: about three-quarters of the book-poof-Gone! Oh yes. I did. Lawd! But now the way is clear and I’m letting Virginia Kate tell it as she feels best. Katie Ivene (Momma) and Rebekha are coming through Virginia Kate’s storytelling. It’s as if she wants to tell the story of Three Mothers: herself, Rebekha, Momma. I don’t know. Guess I’ll see where this goes.

Now, go grab a few fist-fulls of the day. And tell me: When’s the last time you road a bike (Saturday!)? What kind of cake did you have for your birthday (I had Kings cake!)? If you write, have you ever deleted most of your book in both terror and excitment (yes!)? Have you ever forgotten to put on your shoes for a dinner party (um teehee YES!)?