Tag Archives: motivation

The Power of Confidence

I’ve always loved winter sports.  You know, the ones that are highlighted in the Olympics.  As a young person I would stay up way past my bedtime to watch things like luge and downhill skiing.  One of the things I always love were those moments before the competitor took off  down the icy stretches.  They would always stand at the top of the track, eyes closed, head and body swaying gently side to side.  To me these moments were just as intriguing as the downhill run itself.  The athletes were visualizing what they were about to do.  I wondered what was going on inside their heads.

Life is a competitive sport.  Every day we face some sort of challenge.  If we’re lucky these challenges are no more stressful than deciding what to wear to work.  Sure, we have to do some organizing, some thinking ahead and planning how we’re going to get from morning coffee to light’s out at the end of the day, but we can handle it.  We know pretty much how our day is going to go, whether we’ll run into traffic on the way to and from work, and how long we’ll have for lunch.  We can be pretty confident that we’ll make it through to the end of the day without incident.

But what if you happen to be a writer or someone wrapped up in some other form of creative pursuit?  Sometimes just thinking about attempting something big in life makes us quiver in our boots and wonder how on earth we can get things done.

I’ve been writing for decades, but it took me a long time to decide that I wanted to publish for real.  Why?  Why would someone who finds such joy in the act of writing shy away from what a lot of people consider to be the top of the mountain for writers?  Well, if you would have asked me a couple of years ago I would have said it was because I just didn’t like the idea of pursuing something that is so subjective.  I’ve always hated the idea that my relative success at something I love, something that is a part of my soul, would have to come at the say so of someone else’s opinion.  I don’t like jumping through hoops.

But is that really it?  A lot of things in life are subjective.  Heck, going to a job interview and being hired for the most mundane job is a subjective process.  You can look good on paper but ultimately it’s all about whether the hiring manager likes you.  So that can’t be it.

What is it then?  What keeps a writer or an artist or an athlete or an accountant going?  What allows one person to succeed where so many others fail?

In my mind it all goes back to that skier or luger or bobsled guy at the top of the hill before the starting gun goes off.  It’s all about how you see the path in front of you.  You’d better believe that as the athlete is visualizing the course he’s going to take he’s not imagining himself hitting the gates or wiping out on a tough curve.  He’s imagining a smooth run, planning exactly what he needs to do to make it across the finish line before everyone else.

Awesome.  So how does that translate to the life of a writer or any other kind of artist?

Simple.  You have to have confidence that you are going to make it.  You have to believe and act on those beliefs.

That’s not to say that just anyone could grab a luge sled and visualize themselves winning an Olympic gold medal then zip off down the track and win.  You have to learn what you’re doing and work on your skills.  You have to practice.  You have to listen to your coaches.  Once you do all that then you’ll have the technique that you need to reach for your goal knowing that you are as prepared as anyone else.

The thing that made the biggest difference for me in switching from the belief that I was a good writer to believing that I will be a successful author was ultimately a tiny thing.  I won an award for my writing.  Well, that and I had a successful published writer make an off-hand comment that she regretted the fact that she had to be so general in the workshop she was teaching because she could see that a few of us, me included, were much more advanced than the others.  That comment and the award made me stop and think “Hey!  Maybe I am really good after all!”  It’s amazing what a little outside validation can do.

I could have just sat there and basked in the glow of that validation and done nothing.  That would have gotten me exactly nowhere.  What I did was to grab hold of that confidence and push myself to the next step.  I took what I had that I was now confident was good (my novel The Loyal Heart for which I won the award) and published it.  Again, I could have just sat there and been all proud of myself for publishing something, but MORE beckoned to me.

I know I am going to be a successful writer.  So what’s the difference between now and a couple of years ago when I grumbled about not wanting to publish because the publishing world was too subjective?  Confidence.  It’s all about confidence.  I have had enough external validation to see that I am as good as I work to be.  But more than that, I have enough internal confidence now that I’ve proved a few things to myself to keep going when I might have fumbled in the past.

I am friends with a lot of aspiring writers through social media outlets.  I think all of you guys are great.  Every once in a while though I see a few people who don’t have confidence in their ability or in their future as a writer.  To you guys I say now is the time to stand at the top of the course, close your eyes and visualize the run.  You can do it!  See yourself putting in the hard work that’s needed for success.  Hold onto the prize at the end, and the next run after that.  If you believe in yourself and have confidence in your ability to rise to the top then there’s nothing that you can’t do.

Complaints-giving

Today is Thanksgiving Day in America.  All across our fair country families will be getting together to eat turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie, to enjoy each other’s company, and to be thankful for the good things in our lives.

Well, in theory at least.

The reality is probably more along the lines of families getting together to drive each other crazy, children screaming and whining about having to eat all of their beans, men disappearing to watch football games, and women buzzing around the kitchen muttering about no one helping them clean up or trying to out-martyr each other.

And you know what?  I say go for it!

This Thanksgiving I think we should all take a moment to complain at the top of our voices.  I think we should all really let rip and tell people all of the things we can’t stand, disapprove of, or think or are unfair in our lives.  Let’s really go for broke and kick up a ruckus.

I’ll go first.

I am really angry that I’m still single at age 37 without any significant relationships to look back on or forward to.  I think I’m better than that and that I have a lot of really good things to offer a man.  I’m angry that no one has bothered to see me as a potential mate or even a date for dinner.  I’m annoyed that so many men that I’ve met are so selfish and can’t be honest about what they really want in life.  That goes for non-romantic-interest men too.  In fact, I’m pissed off that no one, not even my family, ever seems to be there for me when I really need them.  I’m furious that I have to struggle financially, that I have to work two jobs, three if you count writing (which I do) and that no one has offered to help.  I’m livid that the closest offer I’ve ever gotten of concrete help from my family is my aunt saying I could maybe, possible, rent a room in her house, but under no circumstances could I bring my cats if I did.  I hate that no one ever gets me anything even remotely useful or even in the ballpark of what I want for Christmas but instead fill up my already overcrowded apartment with glorified paperweights because they don’t stop to think about what I really want or need.  And I’m frustrated that I haven’t sold thousands of copies of my novel or that I don’t have thousands of Twitter followers, Facebook fans, or Blog subscribers.

Whew!  Yeah!  That was a rip-roaring bundle of complaints!  Grr!

And now I can take a deep breath.  Ah!  Now I’ve gotten that out there in the world.  Now I’ve said it.  Now I can let go of it and move on.

Complaining is like vacuuming.  Carpets get cluttered up with dirt, dust, and gunk.  That’s why every once in a while we have to bring out the big, obnoxious, noisy machine that scares the cats and makes them hide under the bed.  We flex our muscles and raise our heart rate as we lug those gigantic machines around to suck up all the clutter.  What we’re left with is a nice clean floor that may not be as fresh and new as the day we bought the carpet, but it looks a whole lot better.  The room looks bigger.  We can breathe a sigh of relief and say “look how much cleaner the whole place seems now!”

Complaining is a necessary part of the process of gratitude.  We all have so many things to be grateful for in our lives.  No seriously, we do.  But it’s so hard, impossible even, to see all of the wonderful things in our lives if we’re clogged up with dirt and unhappiness.  Nothing is ever going to be the way any of us want it to.  It’s human nature to be dissatisfied with what we have.  We all have complaints.  As long as you hold those complaints inside, letting them fester and grow and sink into the fiber of the carpet, you’re not going to have room for gratitude of any kind.

You have to let go of the bad before you have space for the good.

So now that I’ve ranted and gnashed my teeth and spit out all the crap that clogs me up when I’m feeling vulnerable I can take a look at the good things in my life, the things I’m thankful for.

I’m thankful that I have a vivid, crazy, lively imagination that has been my closest friend and ally for my entire life.  I’m thankful that it has provided me with hours of entertainment, made writing essays for school easier, gotten me out of tight predicaments, and given me wings.  I’m thankful that I was taught to go after the things I want in life rather than to sit back and feel sorry for myself for not having them.  I’m thankful that I have a few people in my life that I can call the best friends ever.  I’m grateful that I have the strength and health to work insanely hard so that I can make ends meet and pay my own way without having to mooch off of anyone.  I’m thankful for the recent changes in the publishing industry that have made it possible for me to share my stories with the world without having to venture down a path that I’ve never felt comfortable with.  I’m so very thankful that I discovered the wonderful sport of cricket and that I’ve become a part of the cricket scene in Philadelphia, made a name for myself and made so many wonderful new friends.  I’m thankful that I can see things other people can’t, and that other people see things that I can’t because it means I’ll always have room to grow.  I’m thankful that I can share these words with complete strangers and I hope that good will come into the world in ways I’ll never be aware of because of them.

Ah!  That felt good.  It’s nice to be reminded of the good side of life.  I don’t know if I would have been able to feel so thankful if I hadn’t felt free to honestly express all those negative things that were taking up the brain-space I needed to feel that way.

So give it a try.  Dump out all the bad.  Rant here in a comment if you want to grouse about something that pisses you off and be heard … but not by the people who you have to live with.  And then fill up all that empty space with thankfulness.  But get rid of the crud first.

A Waste of Time

I should be working on my novel, not writing a blog post.  Yep.  I can feel my blood-pressure and anxiety level rising right now.  I should be working on my latest knitting project, not surfing the net.  I have so much work to do and I’m wasting valuable time not doing it!  Oh boy, here come the palpitations!  I should be reading right now.  I haven’t read anything for weeks and it’s crucial for a Writer to be reading all the time to hone their craft.

Oh no!  What am I doing with myself?  I’m wasting so much time!

Once upon a time, several years ago, the company that I was working for paid for us all to attend a 7 Habits of Highly Effective People workshop.  I distinctly remember filling out a survey to determine how much time you spent doing the four different areas of activity that was talked about in the workshop.  I tried to be honest with myself.  Lo and behold, I ended up scoring myself as spending a lot of time idling and not getting things done.  I felt terrible.

Okay, but here’s the thing.  That 7 Habits of Highly Effective People workshop also talked about a habit called “Sharpening the Saw”.  In fact, other than “First things First”, which I repeatedly saw on someone’s bumper-sticker on the street where I lived, I couldn’t tell you what the other habits are.  But “Sharpening the Saw” is all about taking time off from all the work you have to do to enjoy yourself so that you are fresh and rested whey you approach the work again.

Yes, but is that what I’m really doing?  I’m not writing, I’m not knitting, and I’m not reading.  So what am I doing anyhow?  Nine times out of ten the answer is “working”, but does that count?  I could be putting this time to better use, right?

I have another issue with the term “wasting time”, a far more emotional one.

So several years ago I had moved to Alabama to be closer to my father.  He left when I was six and spent the next 25 or so years playing this game of “in my life, out of my life, in my life, out of my life”.  I moved to Alabama after my Mom died to try to rebuild my relationship with him.  Well, it didn’t work.  I moved back home to Philly.  I was having a hard time finding a job, so I called him for some emotional support.  Long story short, he told me that my life was a “waste of time” because I had majored in something useless in school (History and Theater) and worked pointless jobs, and that I should have gone into engineering or accounting or gotten married.  I hung up on him.  I’ve talked to him for about 30 minutes in the 7 years since he said that.

However, the specter of WASTING TIME remains.

I get extraordinarily anxious when I feel like I’m not spending my time the way I should spend it to get things done.  I agonize over every moment that I’m not writing, not producing.  The other day at work (and by that I mean the job that they pay me for) we had a ginormous project handed to us and I was unable to write a sentence all day.  I think I broke out in hives.  And yet technically I wasn’t doing anything wrong.  Technically the writing I do during my day job (*cough*like this blog post*cough*) is wrong.  I have nothing to feel ashamed about.

So what is it about the pressures and expectations we put on ourselves to get things done?  Or is it not really our own expectations but the haunts of the past that push us beyond the reasonable?  I thought my dad’s statement about my life being a waste of time was so ridiculously off-base and out of line that I hung up on him.  I definitely think he gets a giant parenting FAIL.  But is there a part of me that believes him?  That thinks I need to prove myself to myself every moment of the day?  …  God I hope not!

The fact is, I like to feel like I’m getting things done.  I love the sense of accomplishment that comes with finishing a novel or a pair of socks.  The victory of completion is my crack.  But I’m not completely convinced it’s healthy.  And sadly, I’m equally unsure what to do about it except to remind myself to cut myself a break now and then.  That saw needs sharpening and there’s only one way to do it.

So am I alone here?  Does anyone else give themselves a hard time for something subjective?  How do you deal with it?

 

“It’s bad enough that you waste time, but do you really have to kill it?” -The Phantom Tollbooth (sort of paraphrased ;) )

Fan Fiction – Good, Bad, or Ugly?

Alright, I’ve got a confession to make.  I write fan fiction.  *hangs head in shame*  Yes, even though I have eight finished original novels under my belt and at least a dozen waiting in the wings, I occasionally indulge in the Turkish delight that is fan fiction.  I know, I know, how could I stoop so low, right?  Fan fiction isn’t “real” writing, after all.  It’s fluff writing.  It’s stealing other people’s characters and making them do things that their real creator would never have them do.  It’s a hair’s breadth away from plagiarism, right?

Eh, maybe.  But I happen to believe that writing fan fiction is one of the most useful writing exercises out there.

Okay, let me explain.  When you write fan fiction you are, in essence, practicing the fine art of mimicry.  To keep true to the characters, setting, and situation that you love you have to work hard.  If you don’t duplicate the personalities and traits of the pre-created characters you’re trying to write about then you lose the feel for the original work.  If you don’t stay true to the world that someone else has built then your fan fiction falls apart.  In order for fan fiction to work you have to stick to a pre-established set of rules and conditions.  Yeah, sure, maybe in your story Hermione hooks up with Draco, but in order for that to work you have to operate within the bounds of who Hermione is and who Draco is.  The tension of that sort of fan fiction pairing comes from elements that J.K. Rowling has already created.  Or if you write yourself onto the Enterprise as a 20th century teenager who is somehow transported into the future, you have to maintain the integrity of the Star Trek universe.  *cough*  Not that I would know anything about that.  *shifty eyes*

Yep, I have always considered writing fan fiction as an author comparable to practicing scales as a musician.  You aren’t going to get on stage and perform scales.  You aren’t going to sell Harry Potter fan fiction.  But if you want to master the art of playing your instrument you have to spend hours on those scales.  And if you want to hone your craft as a Writer then you need to practice maintaining the integrity of characters and fictional worlds and playing with plot, tension, and pace.

Fan fiction is a terrific way to do this.  You don’t have to put a lot of energy into coming up with a premise or creating three-dimensional characters.  That part of the exercise is already done for you.  What you do need to do in fan fiction is stay true to what you already have.  Heck, what you need to do in your own original writing is to stay true to what you already have.  When it comes to creating original fiction that act of creation is one of the trickiest parts.  It’s easy to create flat characters and half-baked worlds.  That’s why it’s important to play with something that is already very, very good in order to get a feel for how it all works.  Same thing with sports.  If you want to improve your skill you play against someone better than you.

One of the very first things I wrote waaaaaaaay back in the day was a silly little Indiana Jones fan fiction.  I think I was in 5th grade.  I was obsessed with Indiana Jones.  Three movies (at the time) wasn’t enough, so I wrote myself another one.  But in order for it to be satisfying I had to write Indiana Jones as Indiana Jones.  He wasn’t my character.  I learned a lot about how to keep a character true to itself by writing that story.  Another fan fiction I learned from was when I rewrote the ending of Labyrinth.  Aside from the fact that I was just entering puberty and had a serious hormonal obsession with David Bowie’s pants (and if you’ve seen the movie you know exactly what I mean) I hated the way the movie ended.  I wanted Sarah to stay in the Labyrinth world, so I had her forget the words to the poem, had time run out, and had Jareth make a deal with her that if she stayed and married him then Toby could go home.  I had to play within the rules that had already been established for the story, keeping the personalities of the characters and the world they inhabited intact.  … Man, now I want to go back and finish that fanfic!

I also rewrote Wuthering Heights, because that has got to be the stupidest excuse for a classic love story that ever existed!  I mean, poor Heathcliff was just a love-starved lost soul whereas Cathy was a bitchy heart-breaker who wanted everyone to love her and only her.  I mean, come on!

Anyhow, I still write fan fiction.  Usually about characters in BBC historical mini-series’.  It’s my way of making the stories turn out the way I want them to.  It’s something I do to cheer myself up when I’m in a bad mood (like yesterday – Lark Rise to Candleford fanfic! Woot!)  It’s also my way of rolling up my sleeves and dissecting characters, settings, and plots that I know work.  It’s practice.  I see no harm in taking stories apart and putting them back together in a different way.  But I rarely show them to anyone.  The best part is, I can do it all without guilt.

So get out there and write yourself some Lord of the Rings fanfic!  Hook Harry up with Draco! … Um, no, actually, don’t do that.  I am scarred for life by some nasty Harry Potter fanfic I never should have read with some incredibly inappropriate shipping.  But go ahead and get your Doctor Who groove on!  Why not.  (That just reminded me that I wrote an entire Torchwood fanfic story incorporating a friend of mine as a Christmas present to her.  She loved it!  Christmas is only 3½ months away so get cracking!)  Have some fun and learn something too.

A Writer’s Journey – Part Two: The Darkest Hour

So.  I am a Capital-W-Writer.  Awesome!  The moment in which I made that declaration and changed my fate forever came and went.  And I wrote.

What did I write?  Oh, bits here, pieces there.  I started a few things … heck, I started a LOT of things.  But did I finish anything?  Oh no.  No, no, no, no, no!  There wasn’t time to finish anything.  Well, I’ll use that as my excuse.  In fact, there wasn’t inspiration to finish anything.  Funny word, inspiration.  It’s from the Latin for drawing things in, like air into the lungs.  So yes, technically I had plenty of inspiration.  It was the expiration where I had problems.  I claimed that it was impossible to write without being moved by a deeper force to get things out on the page.

And so I wrote in fits and starts.  Lots of fan fiction too.  I never finished anything.  Years and years later, a decade even, after declaring myself a Capital-W-Writer with a loud YAWP I still hadn’t finished a single novel.  And don’t get me started on short stories or poetry.  They’re a thousand times harder for me than novels.  But I sit here now having finished seven novels and, inshallah*, within a week or so of finishing an eighth, submitting to agents with a book I’ve slated to indie publish at the end of September.  What happened?

I’ll tell you what happened.  I had my heart broken.  BADLY.

I dated Brent for six months.  Well, no, technically I dated Brent for three months but he forgot to tell me he broke up with me for another three months until I called him on it.  It was bad.  I was devastated.  I thought I was going to marry him.  I was 33 at the time and I considered myself an old maid.  My Mom was married at 32, so….  And guess what.  He started dating someone else less than a month later.  And guess what again.  They were engaged by Christmas.  [insert profane diatribe here]

Just when I had gotten over my heartbreak salt was rubbed into my wounds. *cough*bastard*cough*  I had a good cry and went to church the next morning feeling like the last dusty, dented can of cat food pushed way back into a corner of the shelf, unwanted.  Now, I like to go to church early because there is a period of quiet time with special music before the service starts.  I sat down, miserable, lonely, and just let my mind relax.  I wasn’t praying, I had no agenda, I just wanted to sit there and crumble in peace.

And then, I kid you not, a question popped into my head.  Not from me either.  The question was, “If you had to choose between having a perfect, loving relationship with a man but never being able to write another word ever, which would you choose?”  And before the question was finished being asked I knew my answer.  “I would choose WRITING!”  And the reply echoed back as clear as my cousin’s words on that brisk October afternoon.  “THEN WRITE”.

I kid you not.  I went home after church that morning and started writing what eventually became my first novel, The Loyal Heart.  I wrote every day, three hours in the evening when I got home from work and at least five hours each day on the weekend.  Granted, it was the dead of winter and I had no social life to speak of, but within a month and a half I had written 250,000 words of awesome.  Okay, not awesome, but good.  And then I found out that romance novels are generally no longer than 100,000 words long.  Oops.  (I have since cut The Loyal Heart down to 119,000 words.)  And what did I do after I finished that one?  I wrote the second book in the trilogy, The Faithful Heart.  Yeah, it was (and unfortunately still is) 200,000 words long.  Talk about inspiration expiring all over the place!

I also snapped out of a deep, dark funk that had lasted for eight months.  And I thawed my heart.  And I found my soul.  I remembered that I am a Capital-W-Writer.

Now I’m 37 and still single (dammit!).  But I am happier than I have ever been.  I’m in love, in love with an imagination full of lives and stories.  So what do I do now?  Well, when you’re brimming with this much love there’s only one thing you can do.  Share it.

But how ….

(to be continued)

*The term “inshallah” means “God willing”.  It’s a Muslim phrase which I’ve picked up from some of the guys on my cricket team.  It has a beautiful ring to it.