It's 2015! How'd That Happen?

I want to wish you all a very Happy New Year. It's been an embarrassingly long time since I posted..

since I've written...

since I've read.

My last blog post was in August and I can honestly say that from that time forward, I've had an intense schedule. Last fall, my hours increased at work and my position/responsibilities changed. My day began at 5:15am and ended between 9:30 and 10:30pm. I kept it up through the end of October with a slight break during the month of November. Fall sports ended for 2 children and we managed to sit down to dinner at 6:30 rather than 7, 7:30, or some nights, 8:00. I also have a high school senior who has been writing essays and applying to colleges, so a lot of reading, visiting schools, interviews and meet ups, offering suggestions, rereading, checking the Common App what seemed like a billion times before she pushed Submit. Whew! It's finally done, and while she's still waiting for 3 schools to respond, she's been accepted to a number of great schools. Well worth the late nights and hard work.

Instead of questioning my commitment to writing and reading at every "failure," because I was too tired, I decided to just drop these two aspects of my life for the time being. That "time being" stretched out for 4 1/2 months. The only extra I allowed myself was running, usually twice a week at the soccer field. This was essential for my mental well being, not to mention the physical benefits. Exactly what I needed during my down time, because it required no thought, just motion. I promised myself that at 10:00pm, I was done for the day, no matter what. No dishes, no laundry, no prep for work, nothing. I promised myself that I would not feel guilty about my time away from writing or reading. I would not view it as a failure because I didn't reach my projected goals. Situations change. People change. Priorities change.

Sure I could have pushed myself harder. Could have sacrificed my weekend time. Could have slept less. But I'm learning a valuable lesson.

Being present for my family is priority.
Taking care of myself is priority, too.

Now that the holidays are over, I declared to my husband that the day after Christmas is perhaps my favorite day of the year. The stress and activities are over and I have a week off to do whatever I want, guilt-free. For me this has meant cleaning, resting, learning to crochet, and re-watching season 4 of Downton Abbey in preparation for the new season (I can't wait!). I've started reading again and have peeked at my WIP. Actually, the winter months are usually productive for me and so I'll recommit myself to reading more and writing again.

As far as resolutions go, I will continue trying to live the lessons I've learned from above:
Take care of my family.
Take care of myself.

Happy 2015 everyone!

Any thoughts as to how you will approach this new year?

Origins

Today I'm participating in the Origins Blogfest created by DL Hammons and co-sponsored by Alex J. Cavanaugh, Matt at the QQQE, Katie at Creepy Query Girl.

The topic: Tell us where your writing dreams began.

I’m not sure dreams had anything to do with it. That is to say, I didn’t dream of becoming an author as a child or even a teen. However, I’ve always had an active imagination and have always loved to write.

As a kid I could easily lose myself in my imagination, whether it was with a friend or by myself. Playing “house” (which took on various forms: family, famous rock star, animal hospital), creating scenarios with stuffed animals or dolls, creating comic strips and stories revolving around my favorite toys were my favorite forms of childhood play. I remember tap-tap-tapping on my mom’s manual typewriter, erasable typing paper, and the correcting pencil – rubber eraser on one end, brush on the other - to fix pesky typos. The adventures of Ellie and Marie were the first writings I received praise for at the ripe old age of 8 or 9. 

After that my 4^th grade teacher, whom I adored, asked if she could submit my poem to Jack and Jill, a children’s publication. Of course I said, “Okay,” but soon got my first taste of rejection – a “thank you for submitting but we can’t accept your poem at this time” type of letter. I was heartbroken for about 5 minutes. What stuck was that someone looked past the quiet, shy girl and believed that something I wrote was good enough to send in to a magazine. I still have the pleasure of seeing that teacher occasionally when I visit the library. In 5^th grade my essay on some forgotten topic (how awful that I can’t remember) won a citywide writing contest. I was embarrassed as all heck and couldn’t quite believe I won, but it made an impression. This was something I was good at.

Still, I never considered writing as a career. Writing a novel seemed beyond anything that I could ever accomplish. As a teen I wrote in diaries and journals, but I kept those to myself and honestly, they were reflective, not creative, except for the occasional poem. During my college years, it was common for my friends and I to exchange letters. These were the days before cell phones (our floor shared 1 pay phone in the hallway) and email, so we kept in touch by writing to each other. We’d share news, stories about college life, with a mix of heart and wit – great training ground for developing our own unique writing voice.

As an elementary teacher my love of children's literature grew in leaps and bounds. I loved reading and sharing Francis Hodgson Burnett, Roald Dahl, Beverly Cleary, among others with my classes. My biggest hope was that the kids would learn to love reading as much as I did.

Writing and reading of any kind took a back seat to raising a young family. It wasn’t until I discovered Harry Potter, read J.K. Rowling’s inspirational story, and joined a site devoted to discussing all things HP that I began to consider writing for children myself. With the encouragement of a close knit group of dear online friends I began testing my writing skills and researching the publishing world on the net.

Interest quickly turned to passion, an absolute love of expressing myself through the written word. I don’t know if I’ll ever be published, but the journey has been fantastic so far.

Getting Out of My Own Way

I didn't want to post about this topic because it meant having to admit something that I've been avoiding.
I'm not writing.
I don't have writer's block, I just can't start.
Why, I'm not sure.
I'm hoping by the end of this post, I'll know. Right now there's an invisible shield between me and my notebook and I can't break through.
It's paralyzing and it scares me. What if I can't shake it off? Should I just give in and stop pretending that I'm writer?

Let me back up.

Before the holidays, during the fall, I wasn't writing because my brain was drained, so to speak. My days were filled with emotional stress and an exhausting schedule; usually until 9 or 10 at night. Sure, I could have squeezed in some writing time, minutes here and there, but the quality would have been crap and it would have meant sacrificing sleep -- that's one thing I can't afford to do. I need at least 6 hours to function as a good wife, mother, employee, friend. In fact, there were a couple of times that I sat down at the computer and literally fell asleep at the keyboard. Now that the holidays are over, there's no reason why I can't find time to write. Yes, my schedule is still tight, but the winter months are generally easier - not as many commitments. Emotionally, I'm in a much better place and so, I could write almost every day and make some real progress on my WiP. But I'm not.

My writer friends, and familar names around the blogs I follow, are making huge strides in the their journeys. They're finishing their first drafts, their nearing the end of revisions and almost ready to query. Some have been querying or are taking steps to self publish, and some have even signed with agents and are or will soon be submitting to publishers. I'm so proud of how far they've come and excited that they are closer to reaching their dream. But I feel like I'm not moving forward at all.

Did you ever have one of those dreams where you were running and running but couldn't move forward? I used to have those dreams as a kid and I'd wake up in a panic. That's how this "whatever it is" feels like.
Right now I'm stagnant. It would be easy to just let the writing slide but I know the longer I wait the harder it will be to go back. And I can't help feeling ashamed. All the advice, and it's good advice says, "Just write. If you want it bad enough you'll find a way to struggle through." All the pep talks in the world should motivate me. But I can't. Get. Past. Myself.

I'm not looking for an answer, a "there, there" pat on the back, or sympathy. One of the reasons I didn't post this sooner is because I didn't want to sound like a lazy, whiny wannabe writer looking for attention. And truthfully, I thought that I'd be able to pull myself out of this funk. I try to keep my blog light and upbeat but then I'd be pretending to be someone I'm not. I'm not there right now (in my writing life) and I'm worried.

I guess I'm blogging about this because I need to know if others are going through this too. How are you dealing with it? Have you been here? Did you give up or fight through?

Resolutions and Where to Put Them

Not there! Sheesh.

 I have nothing against resolutions.
In fact, I make them every year: self-examination, goal setting, plans for the future, how to live as a better person. And I will do that again this year, pondering the ways I feel I need to stretch and grow as a person.

 Usually I write them down; in a journal or last year, here on the blog. But this year, the only written resolution I'm making is this...

...and it's going right on my computer.

My plan is to take each day as it comes and do my best. The rest is icing on the cake.

Happy 2012 to you all!