In Gratitude to A. and J.

 

It's IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of the amazing and generous  Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to co-hosts for the February 2 posting of the IWSG: Joylene Nowell Butler, Jacqui Murray, Sandra Cox, and Lee Lowery.

This month’s optional question: Is there someone who supported or influenced you that perhaps isn't around anymore? Anyone you miss?

In a previous life, years into a business relationship with an outside recruitment professional I learned he had been diagnosed with OCD. This explained a lot of things, especially his habit of calling me at the same time every Thursday morning regardless of whether or not we had business to discuss. It was all good. Through those weekly calls we became friends.

In those days, I was a wistful wannabe writer so when he told me his MFA and published author daughter had challenged herself to write 750 words a day via a blog, I became a regular reader. At the time, I was a long-term HR manager and the work was, well—fine. The job was close to home, paid well, and the company was flexible when demands arose related to raising my then-teenage daughter. And, while I did wonder if there could be more to my [work] life, nothing motivated me to think about change—until I started reading that blog.

The author wrote with a luminescence and clarity that more than once brought me to tears. Her posts about family, motherhood, parents, and grandparents, writing and volunteering touched on truths inside me I had yet to admit. I began arriving early to work each morning to read the newest post, commenting on some of them—editing my own thoughts to make sure they read just right. It's no exaggeration to say her words reached into my heart, forced me to FEEL and stirred the writer in me.

Then one afternoon, in a company-wide expense reduction, the job I would have never left on my own left me. I woke the next day unemployed but with a singular recognition that my next phase had to be more than a 40+ hour work week that was simply “fine.” Inspired by my recruiter-friend’s daughter, I created Middle Passages to hold myself accountable to a regular writing schedule. Every word I’ve written since, for this blog or anywhere else traveled a direct path from those days when I couldn’t wait to fire up my computer to read what she had to say.

A year or so after I started Middle Passages, the writer’s blog went dark. Absent Thursday morning phone calls from her dad (which I confess, still happened long after my employment change), I only know she encountered heartbreaking life challenges. I’m afraid she may no longer be writing. The thought touches me beyond loss.

So, this post is a tribute to the woman whose words centered me with a focus I had no idea I was lacking. I write now knowing it’s the one thing that makes me feel whole and accomplished and connected to my core—and with eternal gratitude that so many years ago she triggered my introduction to the me I was always supposed to be.

 

No Regrets - IWSG January 2022

 

It's IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of the amazing and generous  Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: Erika Beebe, Olga Godim, Sandra Cox, Sarah Foster, and Chemist Ken!

Optional question for January: What's the one thing about your writing career you regret the most? Were you able to overcome it?

As I’ve stated here before, writing brings out my truest self—so I’m not sure that I can associate the word “regret” with the process at all. That said, in the spirit of this month’s question, I’ll admit to a certain wistfulness that I’d started writing in earnest sooner—but try not to give it much counter space. My focus on writing arose out of a specific need when it was most welcomed. Since then, it’s never subsided.

Looking back, it's easy to recognize words have always lurked inside me. As a sixth grader I lay on my bedroom floor for hours, working on a writing assignment for Miss Markey’s English class because I was having too much fun to finish it. The A+ I received triggered the realization that if you love what you are doing, it feels easy.

As I grew older, I kept diaries and wrote long-winded letters to distant friends (admittedly never receiving anything comparable in response). In college I took journalism and poetry classes. I submitted my works to the campus newspaper and literary magazine. As an English major, I wrote paper after paper. Clearly, reading and writing were my gig. But when it came time to find employment, it didn’t dawn on me to seek a position in my “field.” Who made money as a writer? Rent was rent. A job was a job. I took the first one I was offered which put me on an HR path —a good fit, I suppose, as I wrote employment ads, policy and procedure documents, emails, and memos as a matter of course. Looking back, the “not-in-my-job-description” newsletters, relocation manuals and training documents I wrote while at my "helping-to-pay-the-mortgage" job were enough to keep the blinders on, to stop me from seeing what I really wanted to do. But finally, cracks appeared in my facade. I began writing and submitting essays for publication. I won a little contest and had a couple of pieces published. 

Not long after, my job was unexpectedly eliminated and less than twenty-four hours later, I wrote my first blog post. After that, I was all in. Committed. It was as if someone yanked up a room darkening shade one afternoon and I could view what had been circling me all along. Whatever the heck I did next, I’d write. Since then, I’ve tailored things such that, one way or another, writing has a firm place and priority.

So now, seemingly a lifetime since that first blog post, perhaps I’m wistful, but mainly, I’m pleased and aware. For a huge portion of my life, I let words sneak in unobserved because I figured I didn't have the wherewithal to be a writer. These days, I understand I’ve always been one.

What are your regrets about your writing career? How have you overcome them?

Stress and Delight - IWSG December 2021

 

 

 

It's IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of the amazing and generous  Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: PJ Colando, Diane Burton, Louise – Fundy Blue, Natalie Aguirre, and Jacqui Murray! To find links to other IWSG contributors, click here.

This month’s optional question: In your writing, what stresses you the most? What delights you?

Querying and all that goes with causes me the most stress lately. It's challenging and time-consuming to research agents and it seems more often than not, even those who seem like an absolute fit respond with something like: “Intriguing premise and solid writing, but but I'm focusing on _______ (fill in the blank) at this time.” I play mind games with myself before I send a query, rereading my letter a million times for typo’s then waiting until the computer clock lands on a number I like before pressing send. Even-numbers are good. Digits that correspond to important dates are better (say, 7:22 for my birthday). Sometimes I simply wait for a number I like, say 4:56 or 2:22. When it comes to querying, nothing replaces a good story and strong writing, but timing and luck can’t hurt. We’ve all heard tales of agents who turned down a particular project for whatever reason, only to have it end up as a best seller, right? (Woe to those who rejected Harry Potter back in the day!) So, in that vein, I play as many odds as I can. Maybe 4:44 pm is exactly the time all the good juju in the world will land on a particular agent and they’ll fall in love with one of my novels. Okay. It's a stretch, but it isn't hurting anyone!

As for what delights me, well, the writing of course. There’s nothing better than landing in that zone where ideas and words collide and find their way to the page. How grateful I am for the days I sit down to edit a line and look up hours later having lost myself in my story. I suppose the soul-defeating nature of querying is a small price to pay for something that brings such joy.

What causes you stress in writing these days?