Conversation in A Coffee Shop

Tags

Encouragement, Writing Journey, Writing Life

I see her there. This sad reflection of myself. Sitting.

Alone.

Alone only with her thoughts and the icon flashing fierce on the blank screen.

Cautiously I slide into the seat opposite her. Offer coffee. And a smile of recognition.

“Hello, writer.”

She looks up, bleary eyed. Befuddled. “How did you know?”

The question sighs from her, sings over the casual conversation around us and lands with a deflated thud that shakes my soul.

“Thought it would be so easy, huh?”

“I did. I actually did.” A half laugh escapes and tears come. She swipes at them, angry. “At first it was fun, you know? Because I didn’t really know what I was doing and who cared anyway and then  . . . and then it got real. And all these . . . stupid expectations  . . .” She shrugs and sips, leaving it unfinished.

I know. 

“You think you can’t measure up. Think you’re going to fail.”

“I do.” The whispered words widen her eyes. Her lower lip trembles just a tad. And it makes my heart ache. “God, it’s terrifying. You know?”

Yes.

“I know.” That I can relax into the thought, even smile, seems astounding. Yet here we are. “You’re not going to fail.”

“Yeah?” A grin comes out of hiding and hints at hope. “What makes you so smart?”

“Oh.” I push fingers through my hair and wonder that I’ve any left. “Years of practice. Years of staring at that same blank page, wondering if the words will ever come. Wondering if I’ve really got what it takes to do this. Wondering how fast I can fall off the planet if I don’t.”

“Well, you’re still here obviously.”

“Obviously.” A shared smile seems to lighten the air. “Can I tell you something?”

Her eyes narrow with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

“Not really.”

“Well, go on then,” she huffs after a moment.

I lean in a little, because this is important. I don’t want her to miss it. “Screw them.”

“What?” I can tell she wants to laugh at the audacity of those words, but doesn’t. Stares back at me like I’ve lost my mind though.

I nod, serious. “Just what I said. Don’t study that pile of expectations a moment longer. Forget who wants what from you. Forget who said what and why. Don’t give the critics any more leverage, any more power. Seriously. They can’t touch you. Do this for you. Not for anyone else.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Not really.”

 

The challenge crests, almost within her grasp. Yet doubt still dances in her eyes. It’s in that moment, that infinite spilt second between rejecting truth and taking hold, that I remember.

It’s a leap of faith.

And if you want to finish the race, you have to take it.

“Some days I forget what it’s like,” she admits. “Believing in myself. Knowing this is what I was made for. Some days I forget what it was like at the beginning. When it was fun.”

“Hey.” I tap the top of her laptop. “You want it fun? Stop listening to all the crazy and kick that fear the heck out of there. Otherwise it’ll chain you down. And where’s the freedom in that?”

“That’s funny.” Elbows on the table, she rests her chin in her hands. “That’s why I started in the first place, you know. To give the words their freedom.”

“Exactly.”

“And I was good.”

“Still are.”

“You really think I can do this?” She sits back, shoulders a little straighter. A spark settles in her eyes and I let out my breath.

“You already are.” It had to be said. And finally she nods.

“I am, aren’t I?” And then she smiles.

A smile that stretches wide like doors flung open on a spring morning to let in fresh new air.

“And even if I fail, well, there’s no shame in that. Because I tried. And I’ll know I did my very best. And that’s all anybody can ask for, really, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed.” And the words are more for me now. Because I needed the reminder.

“Okay?” I reach my hand out and she clasps it tight.

“Let’s do it.”

So we will soldier on. Together.

Victory sidles up and slaps us both on the back.

Hello, writers. Welcome home. 

 

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When Gandalf Knocks …

Tags

Author, Christian Fiction, Writing, Writing Journey, Writing Life

If you’re a LOTR fan, you know when Gandalf shows up, it’s a safe bet that something is going to happen. His presence sets things in motion. He is the inciting incident, and suddenly we’re on the edge of our seats, wondering what’s coming.

A wizard is never early. Nor is he late. He shows up precisely when he means to. 

I love that line. Kind of reminds me of someone I know. Someone who also shows up precisely when He means to. And His timing is always perfect.

Lately there’s been a bit of commotion about the state of publishing and what’s coming next. Bookstores are closing and all I’m hearing is that it’s a tough, tough time to be an author. There is a sky is falling attitude out there that’s not hard to miss. For a newly contracted author, I can tell you, it’s a little frustrating.

Lack of sleep these days gives me plenty of time to think. Last night I lay awake and thought about all the conversations I’ve had this week, thought about some of the things I’ve read and the fear-envoking posts that seem to smack doom and gloom in the face of any hopeful writer, and I thought, oh yeah? Says who?

Do I really believe God called me out of my comfort zone, placed me with a publisher, not just any publisher but my dream publisher only to then slam the door in my face and let the whole house of cards come tumbling down?

Absolutely not. 

And furthermore, even if it does, even if my dreams are suddenly dashed for some unforeseen reason, well? So what? I’ve been through worse. And I’ve survived. If CBA crashes and burns before my first book releases next year, well, I’ll survive that too.

So why aren’t I freaking out right now?

Because I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Trust me, coming to this realization took a while. A long, long time. You can read about it here. My journey to the place I am today has not been an easy one. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let fear and doubt and uncertainty rip the rug out from under me now.

Because when Gandalf knocked on my door, I answered. And I accepted the challenge.

God placed this calling on my heart. He’s given me the words, the stories, the ability to tell them, and the access to a creative community that surrounds, supports and encourages me every single day. How absolutely amazing is that? Look, here’s the thing. Nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said any of this would be a walk in the park.

But you take that on when you answer the call. When you open that door and step outside, leave the safety of the known in exchange for the unknown, you’ve got to expect the unexpected. I’m challenged to be a better writer every day, each time I sit down and open a manuscript. And it pushes me to be a better person too. Because my words are in many ways a reflection of who I am and how I live. God will shine through them like it or not … because He owns them.

God knocked. I answered. He set me on the path.

Sure, there may be terrifying moments. Sure, I’m probably going to lose my way at some point. I might even want to quit. But I’ll tell you what. That’s not an option. Not anymore.

Because I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

And there is inexplicable peace in that.

Along with the pure, giddy, unadulterated joy that comes in following your dreams …

Here’s What I Know…

Tags

Christian Fiction, Faith, Hope, Publishing, Writing, Writing Journey, Writing Life

I love books. I love story. I love creating stories. I love reading stories. I love sharing stories.

Apologies for my long absence here of late. Part of the reason for it is that I’ve been traveling. Hubby and I spent two weeks in Hawaii – a long awaited trip that was perfect in every way, even the misting rain that seemed to fall each day in certain areas of Maui. But that didn’t stop us from having a blast…

We did a lot of driving around and sitting around and flying…crazy flying…this entire trip took us on seven flights – Bermuda to Atlanta, Atlanta to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to Maui, Maui to Los Angeles, Los Angeles to San Fransisco, San Fransisco to Atlanta, Atlanta to Bermuda. For a chick that hates to fly, that’s a lot of nail biting. But God was good. On all those flights, there was hardly any turbulence. That’s my kind of plane ride, people.

So we did Hawaii, then ended in Monterey, California, to attend my agency retreat. If I haven’t said it before, I am so proud to be part of the Books & Such family. The abundance of knowledge, wisdom and encouragement flowing through this gathering was astounding. It’s always a blessing to spend time with my writer soul-mates and my fabulous agent, Rachelle Gardner, and this past weekend was no exception. I came away super-charged, refreshed, renewed and truly excited about the future of Christian publishing and my place in it.

Which brings me back to what I know.

Books aren’t going to go away. Great books will always be written. Great authors will be discovered. Story will not disappear. How could it? Because story is who we are. Why we exist. God himself is the greatest storyteller of all time. And He’s writing my story at this very moment. And yours. He is the master of the plot twist, the cliff hanger and yes, even the happily ever after. That’s what I know.

If you’ve been reading any of my ruminating over the past year or so, you know I haven’t exactly been in my happy place. I’ve had doubts. Questions. Lost hope. Held on to faith by a few thin strands and wondered why in the world I ever thought I could do this. Did I dare call myself a writer? An author? Well…yeah. I do. That’s my final answer. Because this is who I am. My desire to create story is not going away. I’ve discovered that. Accepted it. And so it became more a question of how I would use it. I wondered where the best place in publishing was for me. If you’ve shared my doubts, frustrations and dubiousness about the future of Christian publishing or just publishing in general, you know what I’m talking about.

You’ve heard “The Sky is Falling!” more times over the last few years than you care to think about. Me too. But guess what? The sky is not falling. It might be changing color, might be more gray than usual, but it’s not falling. And the sun is still there behind the clouds. Publishers are changing the game, some doors are closing, people are rushing to pound out books faster than CreateSpace can put them out…because surely this is the easier way…the press of a button and BAM! Instant fame and fortune. Okay, that’s kind of a joke. Maybe for some people it works that way. I don’t know for sure and I don’t really care. But here’s what I do know.

All that is not important. It doesn’t matter how you tell your story, whether you go Indie or traditional or simply print out the words and read them to your grandmother in her nursing home…

What matters is that you tell it. 

Write it. Feel it. Breathe it in. But please, please tell it. Share it.

Story matters. Your story matters. We’ve been given a gift here. It’s not about the contracts or the money or the fans that gush over every word we write. The true gift is this amazing ability to share our hearts. To bare our souls and let others take a walk in our shoes. Sharing story is a privilege. An honor. It’s been happening since the beginning of the world and it will continue until every last one of us on this planet is gone. And I like to think there might be libraries in heaven. 🙂

I know I’m going to keep writing. I know I’m called to it. I know I will write words I want to share. I know this because to deny it would be like cutting off my supply of oxygen. I live to do this and I will do it well. The world deserves good stories. Not mediocre drivel about subjects that make your hair stand on end. You know? The ones that kind of make you throw up in your mouth a little…and why are there so many of them out there?? But I digress.

Those of us who determine to make the world a better place through the words we write – we’re called out. We’ve heard the battle cry. It’s time to suit up, people. Time to prove that there are books worth reading. Books that make you laugh, and wonder and weep. Books that leave you wanting more. Books that only we can write. Tell your stories. Tell them well. And shine your light. There is much darkness, but in the midst of thick black night…there is hope.

This is what I know.

Game on.

Who Are The Words For?

Tags

Being Real, Friends, Letting Go, Words, Writing, Writing Journey

Two weeks of traveling. Meeting friends. Attending a wedding. Being with family. 

I stumbled off the plane yesterday and spent the rest of the day in a sleepy haze. Checked out my book on Amazon, read emails and Facebook posts and pondered how to sell more, reach more, do more…and I’ve already forgotten. 

This.

 This…

  \

This.

And this. 

Those breathtaking moments that seem to stop the world spinning for just an instant as you stand in awe and realize how insignificant your issues really are in the grand scheme of things. 

How easy it is to get right back on that hamster wheel and spin and spin and spin and go nowhere. How ridiculous to think that happiness comes from achieving a measure of success that so often seems unattainable yet we just keep reaching…pushing, trying…and wearing thin in the process. 

I tell you what. What I’ve learned? What I’m still learning, every day…is that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how good a writer you are. How many books you sell or don’t sell. Whether you have a platform or not. Whether you land that contract or continue to duke it out in the trenches or go it alone. Frankly, it’s all crap. And okay, in my crazy moments when I want it all so badly I’m not sure how to take my next breath, it does matter. But oh how I wish it didn’t. 

My friend Beth pulled this plaque off the wall of her writing room in Colorado Springs, pressed it into my hands and insisted I take it home…

Because she knows. She knows how it gets crazy and all consuming and how easily I am sucked under.

She knows how I need to stop. Stop and remember who the words are for.

Remember why I do what I do. And how I need to tell myself to get over it. Let it go and try to find normal again.

The words aren’t for some big New York publisher who doesn’t give a fig how many hours, days or years you worked on them. How you poured out your heart and soul and went a little nuts in the process because you had to, had to, had to be so sure this was the very best thing…they don’t care. So you don’t write for them. 

You write for the reader who tells you she stayed up half the night reading your book. You write for the ones whose eyes get all misty at just the right parts and tell you how much you’ve moved them. You write because you love it. And you love them. And because this is what you do, dammit, and nobody, nobody has the right to tell you that you’re just not good enough. 

I’ve heard it. Bought into it. Believed it. 

But it’s not true. 

What is true is that I am a writer. And I belong in that community. I am affirmed by precious souls and fellow sojourners who pray me through this journey. 

  

We laugh and dream and boost each other up. And we love. 

This is who the words are for. 

This is why God gives us the words in the first place. 

For each other. 

Not to be the best, earn the most money or win all the awards. Not for the accolades or the high praise and compliments and rave reviews. It’s not about any of that. That’s what we’ve made it all about. 

These words we write are a way of connecting souls. Hearts. Minds. They can soothe or sear or bring laughter, joy and sometimes tears. Sometimes, if we really let God in to do the work, they can even save. 

And I know. I know I’ll go back to my fretting and my pondering and my anxiousness because I’m not perfect yet. I’m still very much human. And I forget things. Things like those sweet God-breathed moments from last week that remind me who I am and where I’m supposed to be. 

But then the words come again.

And I remember who they’re for. 

So You Think You’re All That?

Tags

Patience, Perseverance, Struggle, Truth, Waiting, Writing Journey

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”

“Yes, it does.”
“No, actually, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it…wait, what?”

The problem with being a writer is simply this: We may develop the tendency to think we’re all that.

Not me, of course. I would never be so brazen as to assume the entire publishing world should come to a grinding halt and read my manuscripts RIGHT THIS SECOND BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND THIS WAITING ANYMORE!!! Yeah. Not me.

And so I wait.

Here’s the thing. I am not a patient person. True story. I also like getting what I want. Immediately. I blame my parents for that. They should have spanked me more. Or something. So here I am in this crazy profession where times moves slower than molasses running off the kitchen counter. This business where so much hinges on….what? I don’t even know. Timing? Luck? Fortitude? Brilliant writing? An editor having a good day? Maybe a combination of all those things. It’s a secret we’ll never know. Why some books are chosen and others aren’t.

I’ve ranted…um…mentioned the fact before…how some books are just not my cup of tea, yet they sell. They win awards. And I’m all like…

But really, so what? Good for those authors. Shows how much I know. Then this thought comes.

What if I simply got on with living?

Instead of worrying about what’s happening out there in that realm, that galaxy far far away…the place I have no control over…what if? I’d be less stressed, for sure. Probably be a nicer person to live with.

You know how hard this thing is. You reading this who’ve maybe just cut chapters out from your novel. Deleted pages you worked so hard to get right. You nodding your head because you get what I’m saying. You’ve been there. You might be there right now. You do it all because you want to succeed. You want that contract. You want…to be heard. To be noticed.

To be all that. 

Maybe you don’t, but sometimes I think I do. Sometimes I think if only…if only that email would come, that phone call, that long awaited “YES!”…then I could get on with things. Seriously. Somebody slap me.

See. I know it’s not true. I know that whether I am contracted or not, whether my words are printed or not, read or not, I won’t stop. These stories inside me won’t go away. It’s what I was born to do. Sure, I want to be published. Most writers do. But then, there’s the danger isn’t there, of focussing on that instead of simply enjoying the journey. That dream, goal or whatever you choose to call it, it can steal your joy. Make you forget why you’re doing what you’re doing. Why you started writing down the words in the first place. It can take away the sheer exhilaration of simply telling a story nobody else has.

Is it easy? No.

But we do it anyway. We do it because we don’t have a choice. Sure, I could pack it up. Put all those hopes and dreams and aspirations high up on some shelf and pretend they’re not there…but sooner or later I’d come back to them. I’ve tried to quit. It doesn’t work.

I sit here day after day doing this thing because it’s who I am. And I’m being true to my calling. Obedient, if you will, to tell the stories, write it all down in a way that only I can. We are each unique in that. The telling. It’s something that took me a while to learn, to be okay with. I won’t ever write like Jodi Picoult. But she’ll never write like me. I don’t have to be like anyone. I just have to be me. And I’m not all that.

I’m just me.

So what if I simply show up, despite it all, get the words out and say to hell with the waiting, the wondering, the wanting…what if I just DO IT…maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s all I need to do. And maybe some days, the only person who really needs to read those words, is me.

 

Why Write?

Tags

Adventure, Commitment, Encouragement, Faith, Perseverance, Risk, Writing Journey, Writing Life

I belong to an awesome online community of brave writers.

We encourage, edify and pray for each other. And sometimes we ask hard questions.

Why write?

Why are we doing this thing? For what purpose? Because a lot of days, it drives us all a little nuts. Know what I mean? If you’re a writer, you do. Sometimes I write things down because I have to. Other times the words that appear on the screen come as a complete surprise. But they’re exactly what was needed at that point in time. So here’s my answer. And I hope it encourages you today.

Why?
Why write…
You know how when you had your first child…you held that baby in your arms and wondered where he or she would be five or ten years down the road. Of course this sweet moment probably occurred a week or so after giving birth, once your brain decided to re-enter your body…
But I believe every parent has dreams for their child. It’s an exciting journey, watching first steps, listening to first words, hanging that first kaleidoscope of color that means absolutely nothing up on the wall…
We can do kinder-gym, kinder-music, reading at the library, swimming lessons and a myriad of other extra curricular activities that we hope might spark some lifelong commitment…but in truth, we’re wasting our time.
Sure, it’s fun and helps our kids grow into well-rounded little human beings…but here’s the thing.
God knows.
God knows who they are and where they’re going and why and when and how…before we even have a clue they exist.
Us too.
Before we took our first breath, God knew.
And He said, you – INSERT NAME – you’re going to become a writer. You’re going to speak to people through words. You’re going to love it. And be awesome at it.
Okay, now I’m exaggerating a little cause really I have no idea what God said…but…do you get my drift?

I truly don’t believe anyone can just wake up one day and decide to be a writer. Or a musician. Or an artist. Or anything.
These soul-deep connective ways of expression are God given gifts.
Why do I believe that?
Because they’re hard. They cost. Writing the right words day in and day out is a struggle. If it were easy, everyone would do it. Sadly, a lot of people try who have no business on these waters. And people who don’t know any better trade with them.
But the true explorers, those who’ve been given the grant to go ahead and conquer new lands…we know. We know this thing comes at a cost. Sometimes the price is our time, sometimes, a lot of times, our emotions. Some days we pour so much of ourselves into this great adventure that the best we have to offer others at the end of the day is a half-hearted smile. Because the words won’t come. They’re spent.
But we keep on…we journey on because somehow we know that this is what we were meant to do. We’ve been given this ring…this talisman…and it’s precious. We love it and hate it. It’s wonderful and mysterious and dangerous. But we don’t want to give it up until we understand its meaning. And that could take a while. Years.

Maybe this is all for ourselves. Maybe we do it because we just can’t not. But deep down, I think we know. We write for a higher purpose. That’s why we do what we do. And if we’re really lucky, really listening, really in tune to God’s purposes for our lives, we will reap what we sow. We will encourage, enlighten and bless those around us who choose to invest in this great commitment we’ve made. And we need that support, that encouragement. Some days, honestly, we need validation.

But we don’t do it for them. We don’t do it for man’s praise or our glory.

We do it for Him. Because He’s called us to it. It is who we are. Who we were meant to be before we even were.

And we don’t need to understand it.
We just need to take the first step.
In faith.
Together.

You’re Better Than You Think You Are…

Tags

Confidence, Editing, Writing, Writing Journey, Writing Life

It’s been an interesting few weeks. At some point before Christmas, I made the decision to work with a freelance editor on a manuscript my agent has been trying to sell for….well…a while. Truth is, I was happy with the decision, ready to get in the boat. I’ve worked with a couple freelancers before, and it was a good experience. Actually, the book we worked on back then, (Yesterday’s Tomorrow) sold, so the time, effort and money paid off. While I was excited to get my writing in front of someone who’s worked in the industry for years and knows his stuff, part of me was…okay…a little intimidated. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and frankly I figured it might be a lot more work than anticipated. And a fearful voice somewhere deep inside said something like this; “This is totally stupid. You are not a writer. Give it up already.”

Oh, you’ve heard that before?

Yeah. Me too. Not as much as before I had an agent. Before I was published. But yeah, sometimes. And sometimes it’s real easy to get sucked in. To nod and hang your head and mutter words your mother wouldn’t want you using. Words you used to tell your kids off for repeating.

You’re better than you think you are. 

I’ve heard this before too. Repeatedly, actually, growing up. Self-esteem is a tricky thing. You’re either born with far too much and everybody hates you or you have none at all and pretty soon you’re the proverbial walking doormat. I have tread marks. Imprints so deep that they won’t ever go away. Not really. Memories of failing. Of trying to achieve more than I was capable of. Of letting myself down and believing I’d let everyone else down too.

There are things we are good at. Things we are not. And I’ve learned I don’t have to be good at everything. But by the time I discovered what I really was good at, writing, I’d left a trail of failed efforts in my wake. Put expectations upon myself I could never live up to. To this day I cannot do even simple math. Not being able to help your first grader with math…not fun…the wave of shame hit hard at that point. But it wasn’t the end of the world. My kids soon learned there were things I could not do. They also learned there were a lot of things I could. Things I was good at. Things, in turn, they were good at.

It’s a scary thing to see your old self-defeatest habits manifesting themselves in your children. I nipped that sucker in the bud from the first time they said, “I can’t.” But, rather than saying, “Yes, you can, and you’ll be the best darn finger painter in the world…” I went with, “You can. You can try. You might succeed. You might not. But you will try.”  You see, I don’t believe every race must be won. Sometimes, it’s good to lose. Sometimes, it’s good to hurt. There are lessons to be learned through failure.

All that being said, through the first communications with this fabulous editor, I realized he actually liked my work. Liked my writing, my story, my style. And I was a little gobsmacked. Because he’s read a lot of books. Worked with a ton of big name authors and…well, he wouldn’t just say nice stuff, right? Of course I mentioned the kind things he said to my agent. I think I heard her laughing in Colorado all the way in Bermuda. She sent me a very lovely encouraging email which I have printed and saved in my little box of treasures that contain things like the letter from my first publisher telling me how much they loved my book and wanted to publish it, letters of congratulations, first copies of my two books and a few royalty statements that amount to a few cups of coffee at Starbucks…but the gist of her email said something like this – “Well. DUH.”

You’re better than you think you are. 

I am.

You are.

All I need to do, all you need to do, is believe it.

I’ve never jumped on the wagon of the one word thing – but this year, as I write this, right here, right now, I am claiming one word. Claiming it. Clinging to it for all it’s worth. And believing that I have it.

Confidence.

I can do this. I am doing this. I will do this. And I will not give up. Because I’ve come too far for that now. Worked too hard. Woven threads of hope and faith and perseverance together and tried to create something beautiful. It’s coming. I can’t see the full picture yet, but it’s coming. And whatever it looks like, whenever it is revealed, I do know this. It’s going to be pretty darn amazing. And if it doesn’t come together in exactly the way I hoped and prayed…that’s okay too. Because I’ll be able to say I did my best. Which is better than doing nothing at all.

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? 

Up For Another Round?

Tags

Catherine West, Faith, Ledge Walking, Waiting, Writing Journey

So this is me, being me, being real.

It’s that time again. Time to get out the old paper bag and start breathing. Nice and slow.

An author’s life is cyclical. At least this has been my experience. It looks largely this:

Idea for book is born. Research. Write. Edit. Write. More research. More editing. Write. Edit.

Hyperventilate.

Submit to Agent.

Hyperventilate some more.

Work on next book while waiting for word from agent.

Consume copious amounts of coffee, wine or whatever floats your boat.

Write. Breathe. Spend copious amounts of time on Facebook as therapy.

Agent wants to talk.

Hyperventilate….

Get the picture? This goes on and on and on…and it’s fun. Really. I mean it. I LOVE writing. I just love it. I have so much fun with my characters and their stories. And I LOVE my agent. I love that we can chat, even though we are in different countries…it’s cool to touch base over skype. I LOVE that so far I have two published books to my name. I LOVE my readers, and I really love hearing when they’ve enjoyed one of my books. And of course I LOVE all my writer friends, without whom I would be completely bereft. They are great at talking me down off those ledges.

What ledges? 

Oh, yah. Those. You see, in the midst of all this fun I’m apparently having, a tiny part of me lies curled up in a fetal position with her hands over her ears ignoring the fact that, despite my resolve to ‘stay calm’ and not let things bother me as much, they still do.

When I allow myself to think about the fact that there are two projects out on submission right now, I stress. My neck stiffens. My shoulders knot. My breathing quickens and I want to reach for that brown paper bag.

It scares me. 

Because honestly, I don’t know what’s coming for me and my writing. I already know that one of the houses I would really love to write for said no. And that’s discouraging. That jacks my pulse up and gets me going with all those what ifs…

If I get a bunch of rejections (again) from the bigger publishers, how am I going to take that? What is that going to look like for me and my future career? Do I have options? Do I want the options? And so on and so forth. While I know that working myself up into a state of sheer panic is probably not the wisest move, I’m still vulnerable. When I allow my mind to go places it shouldn’t, I freak out a bit.

But then I stop, breathe. Pray. And remember some very wise words.

All It Takes is One.

One yes. One yes in a bunch of nos can make or break this whole thing. I’ve been there. I’ve had those yes moments, and I know how good they feel. But sometimes you have to wait for them. Sometimes they don’t come. But when they do, you know it’s the best thing for you.

I forget this because I’m prone to ledge walking. I see the glass half empty instead of half full. I get a cold and envision double pneumonia. I’m just one of those people. But I’m trying very hard not to be.

And maybe that’s why I’m sharing this today. Maybe I need a little boost of encouragement. Someone to say it’ll all work out or you know, whatever happens, you’ll be fine. Maybe I’m just telling myself all this because I know if I don’t, I’ll be headed for that ledge. Maybe someone else, maybe you, need to hear it too.

It’s not easy. Whether you’re waiting for news about a book or a job offer or a medical diagnoses, walking through the unknown is tougher than stink. I wish I could say I’ve discovered a magic potion we can all down together and poof, all our dreams come true in the next instant, but life doesn’t work that way. We’re in these moments for a reason. Reasons we might not comprehend or appreciate for years to come.  But here we are. And so I’m choosing to walk through it, taking my baby steps, one foot in front of the other, knowing that I’ll get to wherever it is I’m going, because I know the way. I’ve traveled this road before. And each time I head down it, I take a few more friends with me.

Thank you for being one of them today.