When It Gets Real … Get Grateful

Tags

Dreams, Grateful, Inspiration, Waiting, Writing, Writing Life

That dream? You know the one. The one you’ve held tight to, let go of, buried and unburied and brushed off too many times … that dream you sometimes wouldn’t share with anyone because it scared even you? That dream you maybe cried over, prayed over, cursed and called yourself names over … because somehow you knew, deep down, it would never happen. The one that hovered close sometimes, yet still so out of reach.

Pipe dreams. Pie in the sky dreams.

Sure we all have them. And I don’t know, I happen to like dreams. It’s fun to imagine the impossible. You know?

Call me a sucker for punishment if you will, but I’ve always been a dreamer. But it’s a dangerous line, the walk between a dream and an obsession. Sometimes we’re called to let go of those dreams. Sometimes they grow like weeds and take over everything else, choking good roots and covering new growth. I’ve had to do a lot of weeding. Leaves the hands dirty, mud-caked and bleeding a little.

When you travel the road of self-doubt and insecurity as I so often do, its hard to hold onto those dreams. The good ones. Its hard to believe those well-meaning friends when they tell you not to give up. Tell you you’re really going to make it, you’ve got what it takes. And you wonder if they’ve had just a few too many that day because surely … surely if that were true … it would have happened by now. Right?

And so you shove them off and tell them to go find another simpleton to sell a bridge to. But they don’t quit. Those friends. Those lifelines you have that somehow love you, the real you, like you wouldn’t believe. But you know they do because they’re still here, still hanging in there and saying those things. Still reaching out through the darkness, grabbing your hand and holding tight. And they don’t quit. They don’t quit because they believe in you and they want … sometimes demand, yeah you know who you are … they pretty much up in your face order you to believe in yourself too.

So you don’t give up that dream. Because maybe it was never really an option. And so, eventually, it turns into a goal.

See, this is where things change. Because dreams are cloud puffs on blue sky that make you smile in slumber. And goals? Well, you gotta work for those. You’ve got to get behind that thing and push. Push with all your might. Push with everything you’ve got and then some. Even when it hurts and you don’t think you can go one more day doing what you’re doing because it doesn’t make sense anymore. And those friends? Well they come back around. And they help you push too. Because they want you to finish this thing. To finish strong.

That’s when it gets real.

That’s when you grab hold and go … go because you know you’ve come this far … you don’t get to the finish line and quit. You’ve got to keep going because ____ ? You fill in that blank.

For me, it’s about proving something to myself. Showing that shy little girl that she really does have what it takes. She is worth this. She’s just as good as anybody else out there and maybe, maybe even better.

For me, its about looking back at a trail of broken dreams and promises and things left undone, and not doing that this time. It’s about believing. And when that believing turns to knowing … what freedom there is in that … its so overwhelming I can’t find the words.

I can’t tell you why I’m sitting here smiling stupidly, have been for days. I can’t tell you yet. And I’m frustrated by that because you know I’ve got this thing with patience, and we’re duking it out, have been for years, and I suck at waiting. But this time? This wait? It’s okay. Because over and over I’m hearing this … “wait, it’ll come … this is just between us for now … because its that awesome … stay here with Me in this moment … “

And. Wow. Yes.

That’s when it gets real. When you know beyond any doubt, you’re sitting in the midst of a miracle. Your miracle. A gift you asked for and maybe thought somewhere along the way you deserved because you worked so darn hard for it … but deep down you know you don’t deserve anything. Not really. Yet here you are.

And yeah, thanks be to God.

And thanks be to you, my friends, because you refused to give up, you refused to let me give up.

You believed in me and for me and you let me rail and rant and go all kinds of crazy on you.

And you just kept on loving.

And I can’t say thank you enough for that, but I will anyway.

A million times over.

Hope And Hydrangeas

Tags

Cottage Life, Don't Quit, Dreams, Gardening, Goals, Hope, Publishing Journey, Writing

Hydrangeas. They’re one of my favorite flowers. They don’t smell, sadly, but they’re beautiful. They come in many different varieties and colors of pink and blue and white. I’ve longed to grow them for years, but in Bermuda it’s difficult, if not impossible. When we bought our place on the lake in Northern Ontario, I couldn’t wait to get started in the garden. At the beginning of every holiday, we’d trundle off to the nursery and fill the van with horticultural delights that one of us seemed far more excited by. Of course a stop at Tim Horton’s on the way home is always a great mood shifter.

I’d get stuck in that day or the next, digging fingers deep into damp, dark soil rich with possibility. I’d plant and think and ponder things, maybe hum a little. Gardening is not work when you’re doing it because it’s different. I don’t get to plant like that here at home. So I enjoy that time each year, when I sink into the ground, back aching, but oh so happy because I have accomplished what I set out to.

And then the deer come.

The first year this happened I was so angry I just wanted to cry. My garden, decimated. There went all my hours of hard work. We wouldn’t be around long enough to start over and wait for progress. So I fought back. I discovered deer repellent. A nasty bloody (literally) concoction that smell like S*&# (I was told to edit this but…it does). Worse actually. But it works. My flowers were saved and every year now, thanks to a few days of pungent odor that everyone puts up with because its better than me pitching a fit, I get to see them bloom. (I enjoy my cottage time so much I’m actually going to sulk now because this year we’re hardly going to be at the cottage at all. And I don’t want to think about what might be happening to my plants).

The point is, for a few years there…none of my hard work paid off. I battled deer and who knows what else, and my hydrangeas would either die or just sit there rather pathetically, waiting for a gold embossed invitation to bloom. Then, about two years ago, they got the hint. And they bloomed. Certainly I wouldn’t rank them up there with anything worthy of a Botanical Garden display, but for this island girl, used to sand and sea and salt, the sight of those flowers does something special to my soul.

I didn’t quit.

I wanted to. And it would have been easy. But I knew if I did, I’d never get the end result I wanted. I’d never get to revel in the beauty and satisfaction of the payoff.

Hard work’s like that, huh? You have to slog through to get the end result. Whether it’s gardening, painting, running or writing, whatever your goal is, you don’t get to the end and quit. You keep going. Pass that first goal and make another.

A friend asked me, some time ago now, why I wanted to be published. I had to think about the answer for a while. Truth be told, I’m still thinking about it. Because quitting, on any given day, still lurks in my mind. Quitting would be easy. Giving up on this dream…letting it go and getting on with something that makes more sense…sometimes seems tempting.

But I won’t. I can’t. Because I can see the end. It’s like this every time. When I reach the last half of a book, I stall out. Wonder why I ever started in the first place. Doubts come at night and try to steal the things I’ve worked so hard for. Like those deer at the cottage. I need some good repellent to chase them away.

Being published means putting my words out there. Words I’ve worked hard over. Toiled long hours, tested and tried and torn my hair out over at times, but in the end I know they have to count for something. Even if it’s only knowing that I finished. Knowing I reached the end and finished strong. Even if it’s only for me.

I hope it’s not. I long to share stories with readers who will resonate with what I have to say. Because that is my dream. To sit together on a starry night, watch the flickering flames, sip sweet wine and share stories. And know that the One who gives them to us is well pleased.

Dreams don’t die. If you put them up on a shelf, they don’t go anywhere. They merely sit and wait for the time you’re ready to pick them up again. And then, one day, maybe when you least expect it, they will bloom.

Choose Wisely

Tags

Choices, Dreams, Hope, Life

I love doors. Old doors, new doors, doesn’t matter really. When I see a door like this, recognize the art and the beauty and the time taken to create such magic, I almost catch my breath. And I wonder. Why would someone spend that much time on a simple door? Why would someone spend that much money on it? You know that had to cost a fortune. Strange, isn’t it?

This door may be opened and closed a million times. Pounded on, kicked or jumped on by over-eager dogs, scratched by furniture and careless movers. Will those who walk through it recognize the beauty or will they be in such a hurry that it passes them by? And is it as beautiful as it seems? Really?

I wonder what lies beyond the door. I wonder what the threshold and entryway must look like beyond such magnificence. I imagine lavish furnishings, crystal lighting and rich mahogany floors covered with one or two Persian rugs. I imagine it to be a welcoming place, a refuge. A place of light and long open windows that provide stunning views of pastoral vistas that speak to the soul. All good things.

How surprised I would be to walk through that door and find the place empty. Ransacked perhaps. Beauty abandoned long ago, given over to dust and darkness, cobwebs and mold that seeps through the pores and refuses to retreat.

Doors can be deceiving.

They look good on the outside, sometimes. Sometimes we think we have only the one door to walk through. That it doesn’t matter what lies beyond. We’ve wanted it so long, imagined, hoped and prayed for it without ceasing, surely, surely it must be good.

Not always. And what if we walked past the door we were truly meant to open because this one was bigger, more beautiful…it seemed to speak our name, beckoning…and almost opened itself as we approached.

Careful. Choose wisely.

I often don’t. Choose wisely.

I barrel headlong into opportunity without thinking. I make decisions without praying. I am impulsive with my words. My feelings. I give too much too soon and wonder why later.

I have walked through the wrong door more times than I care to think about. But thank God, thank God, because He provides a way out. Always. Sometimes not right away. Sometimes I have to sit in that barren room surrounded by brokenness and cloying darkness until I realize I don’t belong in this place. It is not where I was meant to be. And I see there is another room, a room with a view of the ocean or the mountains or fields of lavender and sunflowers. A room I can enjoy, find peace and restoration. I can stay there if I want. All I have to do is give up the broken dreams, push them aside and move past them. Sometimes they can’t be put back together. Sometimes you have to climb over the heap of dreck and just leave it behind. And sometimes you have to move the rubble out of the way to find the door beyond it. But it’s always there. That other door. The one you were truly meant to walk through.

Choose wisely.

Whale Watching

Tags

Catherine West, Dreams, Faith, Hope, Perseverance, Showing Up, Writing Life

When we built the house on the ocean, people said, “Oh, my goodness, you’ll get to see the whales go by! How lucky are you?”

I smiled and thought to myself, yes, that would nice. We got binoculars. And I began to watch for whales.

That was five years ago.

I have yet to see a whale. Just one. One would be nice. Really. Is it too much to ask? Because I know other people see them. Just driving by South Shore on any random day during the season when the whales swim by. People see them. And me, living right there on the ocean…staring at the blue waves until my vision blurs, nothing. Nada. Not one single freaking whale. In five years.

It’s become kind of a joke around here. We’ll be sitting at the table and my husband will point excitedly toward the window and yell, “WHALE!” Whether he’s ever really seen one or not remains a mystery, because I don’t think he’d tell me if he really did. And I probably wouldn’t believe him either way.

I know they’re out there. They’re probably swimming around, making faces at me and blowing through their blow holes. And they dive deep the minute I step out onto the back patio with my binoculars. One would think, after five years, I’d give up the quest. But I’m an English major. I’ve read Moby Dick. A few times.

I won’t give up. I can’t. It’s tempting. Tempting to avert my eyes and walk away from that window. But see, the thing is, I still believe. I believe that one day, maybe soon, maybe not, I will see those whales. And the wait will have been worth it.

So for now, I suppose it’s not so important is it, whether I see those blasted whales or not…what matters is that I show up. That I keep looking. And hold on to the faith that one day, I will be rewarded.

Shooting For The Moon…Or Somewhere In The General Vicinity.

Tags

Aspirations, Catherine West, Dreams, Goals, Life, Writing Journey

Do you remember what it was like to dream?

Remember laying on your back on a summer star-lit night, a warm wind caressing your cheeks, studying the sky and listening to the sound of your own heartbeat through the excitement charged darkness? Remember staring up at all those small shimmering stars, wondering how many there were, how many had your name on them?

One of my favorite Disney movies, Pinocchio, has that awesome song, “When You Wish Upon A Star..” remember?

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.

I’ve done a fair bit of wishing in my time. Wishing, dreaming, praying… Growing up, my parents would tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be, do whatever I wanted to do…anything you set your mind to… It’s a wonderful concept.

At some point, I stopped believing.

Let me explain.

While I still believe I can do some things, I know I can’t do all things. I know I’m not supposed to. It’s not my journey.

Dreams are wonderful, magical, and awe-inspiring. Not all dreams come true. And dreams carry with them the unfortunate reputation of being larger than life, surreal and never quite ‘all there’ if you will. Have you ever had what you thought was ‘a dream come true’, something you wanted very badly but never thought you’d get, and then you did. And it wasn’t quite what you expected.

It’s like being a kid on Christmas morning. You wait and wait and wait and then…oh, yes, morning comes and you scramble out of bed and yell as loud as you can to wake everyone up, run down to the tree and your eyes pop wide at the stacks of shiny colorfully wrapped presents…and you got everything you asked for…and then, you sit back at the end of the unwrapping frenzy, and a strange feeling settles. Like being a bit too full after a good meal. Something isn’t quite right, but you don’t know what. There’s still a certain restlessness in the room…

Huh.

Santa came through. But you knew he would. The risk of disappointment on Christmas morning was marginal. So, you brush the feeling aside, toddle off with your toys and in a couple of days you’re making next year’s list because you’re already bored with the stuff you’ve just been given.

Dreams are not goals.

I used to dream about becoming a published author. I decided I  loved to write, I was pretty good at it or so I was being told, and I allowed myself to dream about what it might be like to someday see my words in print. (And go on Oprah). Somewhere along the way, that dream became a goal. (Not the going on Oprah bit).

You dream with your eyes closed. You can’t see the moon if you’re not looking at it. 

While I loved dreaming about success and the millions of dollars I would earn, the minions at my beck and call and my name on the NYT best-seller list, I wasn’t entirely stupid. I might still dream about some of those things, (kidding) but they are not my goals. I don’t wake up each day and flex my fingers with the thought, “Right, today is the day I will write the book that will be become a best seller…” Maybe I should, but I don’t. That is a good dream, a fun dream, but it’s not my goal.

My goal is to write words that are pleasing and acceptable to the One who has given them to me.

That’s it. It’s that simple.

But I don’t sit back and say, “Ok, God, here ya go.” No, I hone, polish, read, re-write and start all over again a dozen times a day. I do the work. Whatever happens after that, whether that book succeeds or fails will not be because I did a half-ass job. I don’t do half-ass.

This is work, people.

Once I set my goal of becoming published, I knew I had to meet a certain criteria. I needed to do a lot of work, reading, studying the craft, taking online lessons, going to conferences. I have not yet ticked that box and I pray I never will. There is always room for improvement when it comes to writing. I needed an agent. That was a given for me, so I set that goal and achieved it. I was no longer alone in the journey. And then one day, after a very long wait, mind you, I held my first book in my hands. Yes, I say it was a dream come true, and it was. But it was also I goal I’d set for myself, and accomplished.

Dreams and wishes are granted. Goals are earned and achieved. 

The cool thing about dreams is that they’re always there. Always floating around someplace, maybe a little to the left of the moon. I think dreams are necessary and worth holding onto, worth shooting for. But make a plan to get there. And don’t be surprised if, when your dream comes true, it’s not exactly everything you wanted.

Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes reality falls somewhere in between what we hoped for. Sometimes when dreams fall short of our expectations, they spur us on to greater things.

And that, my friends, can only be a good thing.

Are you shooting for the moon today? Or are you happy to land somewhere in the vicinity? 

Where Are You Going?

Tags

Catherine West, Dreams, Goals, Journey to Publication, Writing Life

And how are you going to get there?

It’s so easy to get frustrated with the writing life. Some days it feels like this picture. A long, dusty road, no end in sight. You get thirsty. Lonely. And oh, so tired. The great misconception among unpublished authors is that publication is The Promised Land. You live for that day. All the waiting is over. You’ve finally made it. You’ve achieved your dream…cue sappy music and children dancing through corn fields…oh, wait. Yeah. Never mind.

Cue sappy music and Julie Andrews running up a mountain wearing an apron. There. Much better.

The truth is, as sad as it may be, publication is NOT the end. As wonderful as it is, my experience has been that it’s just the beginning. And being a published author is far more stressful than not being published.

What’s that?  Nope, that wasn’t a typo. But that’s another post. Today I want to talk about The Road. (And not the awful movie).

If you’re reading this blog, I’m assuming you have some interest in writing. You’re a published author, a soon to be published author or a reader who loves connecting with authors. Because I want this to be an interactive blog and not just me blathering nonsense at you, I’m going to ask some questions so we can get to know each other. If you’d be so kind as to answer them for me, I’ll know where you are on your journey and create future posts that you’ll find helpful.

1. Who Are You? (Yes, if you read my Friday Featured Author posts, these questions will be familiar. 🙂 ).

2. Where Are You Now?

3. Where Are You Going?

It’s only fair that I go first, right?

Well, you know the answer to #1. If you don’t, check out the About Cathy section at the top of the page.

#2. This one cracks me up. I love the answers that go something like this: I’m sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying my second cup of Emiril’s Big Bold, staring out at the choppy ocean, coming up with a blog post that will blow your socks off…

Yeah. That may be exactly where I am at this minute, but who cares? I love it when authors think outside the box on this one. Where are you now? Are you in a good place with your writing? A hard place? Are you in the prime of your life or facing some dark days? We can go anywhere with this question. Hint: It’s also a great one to ask your characters.

#3. I think the third question is the toughest for any author or hopeful author to answer. We don’t know where we’re going because we’re really not sure where the publishing business is going. Editors come and go. Agents switch agencies or stop taking new clients. Publishing houses are being bought and sold like Whitney albums. Everything seems to be in a constant state of change. And it is. For me, it’s pretty stupid to dig my heels in and refuse to change along with the business. I may as well pack it in right now. I think we’ll all have a different answer to this question, but mine is this:

“I don’t know. And I’m okay with that.”

So what about you? Will you play my game? And here’s a final question for you:

What writing related topics would you like to chat about on Wednesdays?