Doubt, Goals, Life, Marketing, Power, Tuesday Topic, Writing

No, no … that’s the old me

Yes, I know, I’ve told you many tales of my life as a hermit. I’ve revealed my social awkwardness, my reluctance to venture into public places, my preference for a virtual life. Just two posts ago, I expressed the belief I’m not confident enough for Twitter. Well, that was just … um … an act. I will accept the Oscar, thank you.

Okay, so it wasn’t an act. But I realized that not only could I not pro2hermit_hafmote my writing in this hermit state, it wasn’t actually true of me anymore. So … tada … I’m coming out of my shell. I’m taking the plunge. I’m stepping out on faith. If you follow Judy Clement Wall’s blog, you know that 2009 was her year to challenge herself this way. And she has now become the flat-out rocking “Incredible J” of 2010 … and beyond. I don’t hope to equal her success, but who knows?

I’ve undertaken my first challenge and I’m so excited about it, I moved this post, intended for Wednesday, up a day. Over a year ago, soon after starting this blog, I came across Mari Mayborn’s. She’s an inspirational writer and speaker. Her beautifully written blog posts were some of the first I dared to comment on. She reciprocated here and, eventually, even dared ask me to give her feedback on articles she was preparing for submission. Then, she let me know she’d be in California this month and asked if we could get together.

Normally, my response would have been to say, “I’m sorry. That would be nice, but _____ (fill-in the blank).” I am now, very glad I didn’t do that. She drove two hours (one way!) to meet with me at a Starbucks yesterday. I will not lie, I had a mild anxiety attack as I was about to leave my house. But I persevered. Mari was as lovely a person as I knew she would be and we talked for nearly three and a half hours! (And I’m pretty sure I didn’t babble the whole time.) It was great. I loved it. I’m ready for more.

So, I’m through with the hermit “I can’t” thinking. There are, of course, still things I won’t do, but only because they’re dangerous, wrong, or just plain stupid. To the other things, I’ll say, why not?

What’s the best that could happen?

Photo credit: Dawn M Schiller – Odd Fae and Autumn Things
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Critique, Doubt, Group, Life, Writing

Virtual reality and other facts of life

It’s a soup day, a collection of thoughts, but only one about writing.

For most of my life, so far, I lived in Indiana where winters are cold. Really cold. Now I live in California and I’ve been here long enough to acclimate, so the mercury doesn’t have  to drop too low to make me shiver. It rained Monday morning and then the temperature plummeted. Tuesday morning was cold. Really cold. Our car doors were almost frozen shut and we had to scrape the windows. And look at the photo I took near my front door! Frost-limned roses are just wrong, people.


Speaking of cold things. I had to stop the snowfall on my blog. It kept freezing my browser (Firefox 3.5.5) and I figured it might do the same to someone else.  My Christmas tree banner is safe, though.

An excellent thing also happened on Tuesday morning. I’m a huge fan of the TV series LOST, and I received an email from Amazon informing me of a Gold Box deal I couldn’t resist. I bought seasons 1-5 on Blu-Ray for only $109! I called my husband and told him what “he” just bought me for Christmas. 😀 I shall be suffering from LOST overdose very soon.

What I’m suffering from right now is lack of reality … in my writing life, that is. Having family here for the holidays will distract me, but then what? I need a place where I can regularly interact with other writers in a this is me and this is my writing, warts and typos and all kind of way. I’m not sure such a flesh and blood group is available to me, but I’m mulling over the idea of a private virtual one. Isn’t that ironic?

Write on!

Fiction, Novel, Time, Writing

World Enough and Time

I confess to being a poor time manager. When I started writing “full-time” eight months ago, I was in the midst of jewelry making and genealogy research … oh yes, and redecorating one of my bathrooms. All those projects are exactly where I left them. But here’s the thing: progress on my novel is now at a pace the Slowskis would love. I blame society.

I’m a hermit by nature. I’m self-taught in all my skills, not because I think I know more than anyone else, but because self-teaching allows me to avoid interaction with scary humans. I’ve long held the belief that, if needed, I could learn brain surgery from a book—and from YouTube?—no problem.

I have a sister who knows half the population of Indiana—and meets with them once a week, for all I know. She goes here, there, and everywhere, doing this, that, and the other. A recitation of her schedule makes me want to hibernate for a year or two. In fact, I might need a nap just writing that. One of my best friends (hey, Mary) started as a pen pal (remember letter writing?) and now, twenty years later, we email. We’ve never met.

So, what inner demon directed me to join a writers’ group? As it turns out, writers are scary humans too. They expect me to talk. Out loud. And they expect me to make sense while talking. I’m ill-suited for the task. I can’t even hold a decent phone conversation … from my own home … sitting in my comfy little chair … while dressed in my fat clothes.

Okay, so it’s good practice for when I’m published and have to do interviews, and book signings, and sit on Oprah’s couch (did I mention, hermits fantasize a lot?) But, what about my novel? Jalal and Meredith are getting impatient … and poor Renee hasn’t had a chance to open her mouth yet.

Time, time, time …