Under Pressure. So I want to write, right? And yet I'm putting pressure on myself as to what I'm going to write about. How STUPID is that?! I haven't written because I've thought of a few short stories but I didn't want to post them not knowing how people would respond to them. What in the world would I expect to do if I actually had a deadline of some sort for a writing piece? Wishful thinking, but still I can dream right? I just am doubting myself and I feel silly because, I mean, have I even tried? No, I mean I don't even know how to begin to start to think about sending into magazines or papers. Once again, I'm a dreamer, I have great ideas but my follow through is horrible.
So here are some random thoughts I've had in recent weeks:
Who would want to read what I have to say?
I can't even spell, really? REALLY?
I'm not as good as I think I am and people will think I'm full of myself when they read what I actually do write.
I will start 4 books and not finish any of them.
If I actually DO finish a book I won't be able to handle the rejection I get from publishers.
Who can think of 300 + pages of fiction to write?
I'm still haven't finished my letter I've been writing to my Grandma, how am I suppose to make it through my whole family!?
I think I'll write a book about becoming a writer and the frustration it brings.
My book will never get to the Target bookshelves.
Ok, those are just a FEW of the thoughts I've had lately, obviously I am crazy. Wait! Writer's are usually crazy so this is perfect, or is it poets that are crazy? I need a goal. Writing is just like exercise to me right now. I'm not going to do it if there isn't a goal/end in sight. So a goal of mine is my grandmother's birthday, Aug 10 (right mom?) she'll be 87. I want to be able to give her a real book (even if it is a book of short stories) for her birthday. She has inspired me to go after writing and I want to show her my appreciation. :) I'm excited about but I need every one's help. (Especially family!) I need ideas for stories; even if I just know some of her favorite things, moments, holidays, etc etc, then I think I'll get enough for a book.
Anyway, this post was mainly a way for me to vent my frustration about the pressure I've been putting on myself no less. My goal is to write a short story tomorrow before I head off to work.
28.4.11
23.4.11
'You say tomato I say tomato'
Well it has come to my attention that I am a horrible speller, even with spellcheck, I know it drives some of my fans (oook maybe my only fan) crazy but honestly, when I write I just go after it and sometimes my fingers are flying so fast across the keyboard that I don't even realize all of the spelling and grammar mistakes that I'm making. With that being said I guess it's a good thing books get EDITED before they are published! :) Since my book is still a work in progress, my blog is left to be the subject of my typo's and for now my editor is my mom. Congrats mom on the new position, don't worry you're not the only one that has seemingly asked to be a part of this dream of mine. Stephen has informed me that he will be my 'manager' when I informed him writers don't have 'managers' they have publistest he continued to talk about his role as manager so I let it go. It was kind of like the time when my cousin was a toddler and we handed him a video game controller that wasn't hooked up but he still thought he was in control.
Now that I have my crew in tact I guess the only thing now that I need to do is write my book! And since we all know about the infamous murder at Target I have started to concintrate my creativity to my book about my fitness job. I am excited to work on it tonight and would like to say I already have Chapter One finished (of course this is my very first draft so I'm sure it will look almost nothing like it does when it's sitting on the selves of Target (to be exact the same spot 'Still Alice' was but once my book comes out her's will be in the clearence bin, ahh sweet revenge!)
I have to say though, this whole writing this is a lot harder that one would think. I mean I have all these ideas but there are just some days when I sit down to write and nothing comes out; what does is word vomit on a screen that I end up erasing usually. My urges come to me at the most inconvent times, like 3am or when I'm driving, at work bored out of my mind. 2 am, walking the dog...oh well, I know every career has ups and downs but I was really hoping to be a little further along before so many downs came my way (I figured this would happen at the publishing stage)
I wanted to add that some of the short stories that I will be posting are not all based upon my life. Of course most of them might be influenced by something that has happened or is happening in my life but I just want to put that out there so I don't get any worried calls or concerns. I also don't want people to get the wrong idea about some of the things that I write about. Anyway, I feel it's time to get back to the grindstone and see if I have any creative juices left for some of Chapter 2.
Thanks for reading! (all 2 of you out there??:)
P.S. I left all of my spelling errors in this entry just to prove a point, fyi:)
Now that I have my crew in tact I guess the only thing now that I need to do is write my book! And since we all know about the infamous murder at Target I have started to concintrate my creativity to my book about my fitness job. I am excited to work on it tonight and would like to say I already have Chapter One finished (of course this is my very first draft so I'm sure it will look almost nothing like it does when it's sitting on the selves of Target (to be exact the same spot 'Still Alice' was but once my book comes out her's will be in the clearence bin, ahh sweet revenge!)
I have to say though, this whole writing this is a lot harder that one would think. I mean I have all these ideas but there are just some days when I sit down to write and nothing comes out; what does is word vomit on a screen that I end up erasing usually. My urges come to me at the most inconvent times, like 3am or when I'm driving, at work bored out of my mind. 2 am, walking the dog...oh well, I know every career has ups and downs but I was really hoping to be a little further along before so many downs came my way (I figured this would happen at the publishing stage)
I wanted to add that some of the short stories that I will be posting are not all based upon my life. Of course most of them might be influenced by something that has happened or is happening in my life but I just want to put that out there so I don't get any worried calls or concerns. I also don't want people to get the wrong idea about some of the things that I write about. Anyway, I feel it's time to get back to the grindstone and see if I have any creative juices left for some of Chapter 2.
Thanks for reading! (all 2 of you out there??:)
P.S. I left all of my spelling errors in this entry just to prove a point, fyi:)
Ben and Jerry
I have a confession to make. I have an unhealthy-slightly obsessed love for Ben and Jerry. They are so sweet, always puts me in a good mood and mostly importantly; they are there when I need comfort. Now probably 80% of you thought I was talking about the ice cream, even though, yes, of course I love Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream I was actually talking about my cats. I have two manx cats that I named Ben and Jerry in honor of the ice cream. I thought Tom and Jerry might be cute though, but 1. I dont' think my brother-in-law would appreciate a cat named after him, especially since he is severely allergic to them. and 2. I do not enjoy cartoons at the same level that I enjoy ice cream. Come to think of it, I don't think there is much out there that I enough at the same level as I do ice cream..but that's besides the point and I'm getting off topic.
Back to the cats.
It was a humid June afternoon as I walked in the the Elkhart County Humane Society. I was actually going in there to start the papers to adopt two Siamese kittens I had met earlier in the week at a Petco near my house. I have to be honest, I thought they were cute but I didn't 'fall in love' with them when I first saw them. I figured that would come later as I got to know them.
As I was waiting for the volunteer behind the desk I decided I would take a quick look around, I mean behind the wall I had happened to be leaning against were so many furry creatures I could barely stand not saying hello. I opened the door and told the ladies I would be right back. I walked down the corridor and viewed the pictures on the walls of happy pets in their new homes besides the letters of thanks and gratitude from families that had adopted them.
I turned right and decided to go into the dog room first, even though I am much more of a cat person I still enjoy the smiling faces of the canines as I entered the room. Right away my ears were pierced with the echoes of barking that bounced off the walls. Some of the dogs started jumping up and down, others sat and showed me their obedient skills begging with their eyes to receive the attention they so desperately wanted and needed. I smiled at them all and read each of their bios to learn a little more about them. My attention was drawn to 'Chips' she was an adorable boxer who sat patiently as I read her bio with a broad smile across her face. She and her sister 'Salsa' were brought in by a family that could not take care of them anymore and had been there for 2 weeks. The bottom of the page was stamped with the word 'ADOPTED'. I smiled at the thought of a new family taking in this loving girl and giving her a place to call home.
I walked back into the lobby and started filling out the paper work when I stopped and randomly asked the lady if they had any manx cats in the shelter. She said they did and would I like to see them? YEP! My mom had a manx cat and I was so mesmerized by her dog-like personality that I was intrigued to have a meet and greet with two in the shelter. We walked into the first cat room and the feline scent smacked me in the face, even for someone who didn't have allergies this room was a little overwhelming. She brought me over to the kennel that said O'Brian on it and said the other one was in the last cat room with the name 'Kosovo'. She left me there to meet this mystery cat who happened to be all the way in the back of the kennel. I peered inside and found a small mostly white face with yellow-green eyes staring back at me. I opened the kennel door and picked him up. O'Brian's body was brown with black stripes down his sides. He had white paws and a white chest, it wrapped around his neck to separate the brown of his head and body. I noticed he had a black stripe from each eye that started at the corner and worked it's way down to the white of his cheeks. He had a solid stomach that felt as though there was a small balloon inside of his body. He let me hold him and purred as I stroked his head while I read his bio. O'Brian had been at the shelter for 4 months, he was neutered but still had his claws. He was brought in by a family but 'was excited to find a new home to call his own.' I put O'Brian back into his kennel and went into the next room to meet 'Kosovo'.
The first kennel I looked at was Kosovo's. He saw me come in and right away began to rub against the cage door meowing as if to say 'Open up and pet me!' His stump ( Manx cats do not have tails due to a genetic mutation, although some do have a stump) was slightly bent but I decided it gave him character. He was a gray cat with what appeared to be leopard spots in white and tan on his stomach. He had sea foam eyes that were peferctly round. I fell in love right away. I took him out of his cramped kennel and brought his face up to mind. He nuzzled his nose against mine as if he was giving me a kiss. I knew this cat had to be mine. I held him close as I read that he had been in the shelter for 2 months. He was found outside and a kind sameritian brought him in. He was not neutered and had his claws. He was described as being very affectionate and loved to play. I put him back into his kennel and walked into the lobby area. I was nervous to ask if it was to late to change my mind.
I told the women that I actually wanted Kosovo and if it was ok if I didn't adopt the Siamese kittens. They smiled and said it happened all the time and not to worry. The kittens were in a foster home and would more than likely be adopted soon. I noticed the chalkboard behind the desk that said for the month of June 'Adopt one cat and get a friend for free' I decided right there I would take both manx, filled out the paper work and told them I would be back on Monday to collect my boys!
The weekend before Monday I headed out to Target to get the much needed cat supplies I would need. It was so exciting setting up the house and getting all of the cat toys ready. All I had to do now was wait until Monday!
I pulled in the parking lot at 1 o'clock sharp. I was so nervous and excited all at the same time. I hadn't had a pet since I was 12 years old, and now I was getting two! I waited patiently as they read all my paperwork and prepared the cats. A young girl informed me that both of the cats where in the other room and even though they were not related seemed to be getting along quite nicely. They brought Ben (O'Brian) and Jerry (Kosovo) out to me; and me being the scrapbooker I am asked if they would take our first family photo. As they say the rest is history! :)
***( This story was getting a little long so I decided to do separate stories about both the boys at a later time)
Back to the cats.
It was a humid June afternoon as I walked in the the Elkhart County Humane Society. I was actually going in there to start the papers to adopt two Siamese kittens I had met earlier in the week at a Petco near my house. I have to be honest, I thought they were cute but I didn't 'fall in love' with them when I first saw them. I figured that would come later as I got to know them.
As I was waiting for the volunteer behind the desk I decided I would take a quick look around, I mean behind the wall I had happened to be leaning against were so many furry creatures I could barely stand not saying hello. I opened the door and told the ladies I would be right back. I walked down the corridor and viewed the pictures on the walls of happy pets in their new homes besides the letters of thanks and gratitude from families that had adopted them.
I turned right and decided to go into the dog room first, even though I am much more of a cat person I still enjoy the smiling faces of the canines as I entered the room. Right away my ears were pierced with the echoes of barking that bounced off the walls. Some of the dogs started jumping up and down, others sat and showed me their obedient skills begging with their eyes to receive the attention they so desperately wanted and needed. I smiled at them all and read each of their bios to learn a little more about them. My attention was drawn to 'Chips' she was an adorable boxer who sat patiently as I read her bio with a broad smile across her face. She and her sister 'Salsa' were brought in by a family that could not take care of them anymore and had been there for 2 weeks. The bottom of the page was stamped with the word 'ADOPTED'. I smiled at the thought of a new family taking in this loving girl and giving her a place to call home.
I walked back into the lobby and started filling out the paper work when I stopped and randomly asked the lady if they had any manx cats in the shelter. She said they did and would I like to see them? YEP! My mom had a manx cat and I was so mesmerized by her dog-like personality that I was intrigued to have a meet and greet with two in the shelter. We walked into the first cat room and the feline scent smacked me in the face, even for someone who didn't have allergies this room was a little overwhelming. She brought me over to the kennel that said O'Brian on it and said the other one was in the last cat room with the name 'Kosovo'. She left me there to meet this mystery cat who happened to be all the way in the back of the kennel. I peered inside and found a small mostly white face with yellow-green eyes staring back at me. I opened the kennel door and picked him up. O'Brian's body was brown with black stripes down his sides. He had white paws and a white chest, it wrapped around his neck to separate the brown of his head and body. I noticed he had a black stripe from each eye that started at the corner and worked it's way down to the white of his cheeks. He had a solid stomach that felt as though there was a small balloon inside of his body. He let me hold him and purred as I stroked his head while I read his bio. O'Brian had been at the shelter for 4 months, he was neutered but still had his claws. He was brought in by a family but 'was excited to find a new home to call his own.' I put O'Brian back into his kennel and went into the next room to meet 'Kosovo'.
The first kennel I looked at was Kosovo's. He saw me come in and right away began to rub against the cage door meowing as if to say 'Open up and pet me!' His stump ( Manx cats do not have tails due to a genetic mutation, although some do have a stump) was slightly bent but I decided it gave him character. He was a gray cat with what appeared to be leopard spots in white and tan on his stomach. He had sea foam eyes that were peferctly round. I fell in love right away. I took him out of his cramped kennel and brought his face up to mind. He nuzzled his nose against mine as if he was giving me a kiss. I knew this cat had to be mine. I held him close as I read that he had been in the shelter for 2 months. He was found outside and a kind sameritian brought him in. He was not neutered and had his claws. He was described as being very affectionate and loved to play. I put him back into his kennel and walked into the lobby area. I was nervous to ask if it was to late to change my mind.
I told the women that I actually wanted Kosovo and if it was ok if I didn't adopt the Siamese kittens. They smiled and said it happened all the time and not to worry. The kittens were in a foster home and would more than likely be adopted soon. I noticed the chalkboard behind the desk that said for the month of June 'Adopt one cat and get a friend for free' I decided right there I would take both manx, filled out the paper work and told them I would be back on Monday to collect my boys!
The weekend before Monday I headed out to Target to get the much needed cat supplies I would need. It was so exciting setting up the house and getting all of the cat toys ready. All I had to do now was wait until Monday!
I pulled in the parking lot at 1 o'clock sharp. I was so nervous and excited all at the same time. I hadn't had a pet since I was 12 years old, and now I was getting two! I waited patiently as they read all my paperwork and prepared the cats. A young girl informed me that both of the cats where in the other room and even though they were not related seemed to be getting along quite nicely. They brought Ben (O'Brian) and Jerry (Kosovo) out to me; and me being the scrapbooker I am asked if they would take our first family photo. As they say the rest is history! :)
***( This story was getting a little long so I decided to do separate stories about both the boys at a later time)
18.4.11
The Depths of the Water's Darkness
I am standing there along the shoreline. The sun is casting down on me it's rays of joy and happiness. I feel this is where I should be, a place that is comforting for me. I know that if I continue down the beach I will be filled with happiness, find new adventures and experience the life I have been looking for, waiting for.
As the tide comes in, I feel the water kiss my toes as it washes up a little further each time. I inch back towards the dunes and realize if I let the water work it's way up it will consume what I have been fighting so hard for. This life of normalcy will be gone and I will have worked so hard for nothing.
Nothing.
That is what I feel, I realize as I have been daydreaming of my life of normalcy that I have yet to achieve the water has worked it's way up to my knees. I try to walk towards the shoreline but the current is strong. It is overwhelming. I do not want to go in farther but am being pulled; the water is warm and inviting. It is deceptive. I start to walk into the water and am pushed back ever time the waves crashing against my body. It is as if they are saying 'Turn back, do not go any further.' I move my body so I am now parallel with the water; I am making it easier for the water to take me back further. This is the stage I have been before, many times.The realization has not hit me yet, what is going to happen if I walk deeper into the ocean.
I am up to my waist now, I turn to the shore and see my life on the sand; God, Stephen, my family, my friends, and even my pets. They are waving to me, waving me in. I can still see them clearly, make out their faces and see the concern. I wave back to let them know I am alright. I am still in control and able to come ashore whenever I decide to. I walk backwards with a smile on my face letting the water rise up my body. I want to float, just for a moment and then I will head in again. I bring my legs up and become parallel with the earth below me. I let the water take control and move with the waves. I am still able to enjoy the sun shining down on me. The only difference is the silence. I hear nothing, my ears are below the water's level. I am consumed in my own world, my own mind.
I decide it is time to go in, be with my family, my God, my husband. I miss my life that I left waiting for me on the beach. It is time to go in be with the ones I love. I bring my feet back down to the soil , my feel barely brush the surface. I realize as I was floating the current took me out farther. I am now head above water, having to work to make sure I do not go out any further. I look to the shore, my life became pebbles in the sand they are too far to see. I know they are still there but too far to reach now. I know I'm in trouble. I begin to panic and try to claim myself by saying as long as my head is above water I will be ok. I am able to keep my eye on the beach, the air in my lungs and in control of my life. I try to swim towards the shore, but the weight of the water is working against me.
I must tread now, I no longer am able to touch the sand below me without going completely under. This is not happening. I will not let the darkness take my motivation. I will fight for what I know my life is meant to be. My head goes under. I can no longer see my life, it is now an image I feel I once had, was it real? I find that letting the water be in control is much easier than fighting for surface. I must save my energy for the big swim back to land. I tell myself, all is not lost I will find my way back again but as I go up for air I am no longer able to see land at all. The water has taken me so far that I am surrounded. I no longer know which way to go to find my life again. Is this the life that was meant for me? To be engulfed by the water's darkness, not in control of my own destiny?
Control.
This is something I do not have anymore. I am at the mercy of the water. The deeper I go the more violent it becomes. The waves are angry, the current is strong trying to drag me under, drag my last breath of life out of me. As a wave crashes me into coral below the surface I lost my motivation. I lost my desire, my lust for life. I stop fighting. I stop swimming. I just float. Soon. Soon it will happen. I will lose my hope. I have been out this far once before and some how found my way back to the shore. I do not know if that is possible this time. The water is so dark, it has taken me prisoner. I want to fight, swim back, wave my hands in the air until someone sees me.
This desire is dying. Every day that I am out here the less I want to swim home. The water is almost comforting, it is what I have come to know. There is a small spec of hope whispering to me to start swimming. Leave this place, go back to where the sun may shine down on me. The darker the water becomes, the darker I become. It has consumed who I am, I look down and unable to see my hands my feet, my body. Darkness is all I see, all I feel.
Hope.
I have lost it. I let the next wave take me under. I surrender to the water's darkness. I no longer can see the sun, image my life, or hear the whisper. There is nothing but darkness.
I float to the surface, the clouds part and I feel a ray of sunshine. Is this possible? I float on my back and breath in the fresh air, let the sun warm my skin. I look around and spot what looks to be a beach, is it? Am I so far gone that I am seeing things? The whisper turns into a voice 'Go, swim.' I start to swim towards my beach, my old life. Instead of viewing the waves as the enemy, I use them. I ride them in, one at a time. I get closer. I am close enough to see that yes! YES! This is the beach I left behind, I swim faster. I will not let the water take control again. I will not give up my will to survive this.
Survive.
I will survive. I realize I am able to touch the bottom of the darkness. I now use my whole body in the goal of reaching the shore. The sun is shining bright, I can feel the heat on my skin as it is encouraging me along. I see them waving, my life, my God, my family, my friends. They are shouting now. I swim faster, I am too afraid to stop now. I do not want to be pulled back in. My swim turns into a run. The water is heavy and working hard against me. I feel more and more of my body,my life coming out of the water's darkness. I feel the sand between my toes as I sprint to out of the crashing waves. I have made it. My life welcomes me back, welcomes me home. I am able to walk in the sunlight, my life is mine again. I am free. Free of the depths of the water's darkness. Free of my depression.
As the tide comes in, I feel the water kiss my toes as it washes up a little further each time. I inch back towards the dunes and realize if I let the water work it's way up it will consume what I have been fighting so hard for. This life of normalcy will be gone and I will have worked so hard for nothing.
Nothing.
That is what I feel, I realize as I have been daydreaming of my life of normalcy that I have yet to achieve the water has worked it's way up to my knees. I try to walk towards the shoreline but the current is strong. It is overwhelming. I do not want to go in farther but am being pulled; the water is warm and inviting. It is deceptive. I start to walk into the water and am pushed back ever time the waves crashing against my body. It is as if they are saying 'Turn back, do not go any further.' I move my body so I am now parallel with the water; I am making it easier for the water to take me back further. This is the stage I have been before, many times.The realization has not hit me yet, what is going to happen if I walk deeper into the ocean.
I am up to my waist now, I turn to the shore and see my life on the sand; God, Stephen, my family, my friends, and even my pets. They are waving to me, waving me in. I can still see them clearly, make out their faces and see the concern. I wave back to let them know I am alright. I am still in control and able to come ashore whenever I decide to. I walk backwards with a smile on my face letting the water rise up my body. I want to float, just for a moment and then I will head in again. I bring my legs up and become parallel with the earth below me. I let the water take control and move with the waves. I am still able to enjoy the sun shining down on me. The only difference is the silence. I hear nothing, my ears are below the water's level. I am consumed in my own world, my own mind.
I decide it is time to go in, be with my family, my God, my husband. I miss my life that I left waiting for me on the beach. It is time to go in be with the ones I love. I bring my feet back down to the soil , my feel barely brush the surface. I realize as I was floating the current took me out farther. I am now head above water, having to work to make sure I do not go out any further. I look to the shore, my life became pebbles in the sand they are too far to see. I know they are still there but too far to reach now. I know I'm in trouble. I begin to panic and try to claim myself by saying as long as my head is above water I will be ok. I am able to keep my eye on the beach, the air in my lungs and in control of my life. I try to swim towards the shore, but the weight of the water is working against me.
I must tread now, I no longer am able to touch the sand below me without going completely under. This is not happening. I will not let the darkness take my motivation. I will fight for what I know my life is meant to be. My head goes under. I can no longer see my life, it is now an image I feel I once had, was it real? I find that letting the water be in control is much easier than fighting for surface. I must save my energy for the big swim back to land. I tell myself, all is not lost I will find my way back again but as I go up for air I am no longer able to see land at all. The water has taken me so far that I am surrounded. I no longer know which way to go to find my life again. Is this the life that was meant for me? To be engulfed by the water's darkness, not in control of my own destiny?
Control.
This is something I do not have anymore. I am at the mercy of the water. The deeper I go the more violent it becomes. The waves are angry, the current is strong trying to drag me under, drag my last breath of life out of me. As a wave crashes me into coral below the surface I lost my motivation. I lost my desire, my lust for life. I stop fighting. I stop swimming. I just float. Soon. Soon it will happen. I will lose my hope. I have been out this far once before and some how found my way back to the shore. I do not know if that is possible this time. The water is so dark, it has taken me prisoner. I want to fight, swim back, wave my hands in the air until someone sees me.
This desire is dying. Every day that I am out here the less I want to swim home. The water is almost comforting, it is what I have come to know. There is a small spec of hope whispering to me to start swimming. Leave this place, go back to where the sun may shine down on me. The darker the water becomes, the darker I become. It has consumed who I am, I look down and unable to see my hands my feet, my body. Darkness is all I see, all I feel.
Hope.
I have lost it. I let the next wave take me under. I surrender to the water's darkness. I no longer can see the sun, image my life, or hear the whisper. There is nothing but darkness.
I float to the surface, the clouds part and I feel a ray of sunshine. Is this possible? I float on my back and breath in the fresh air, let the sun warm my skin. I look around and spot what looks to be a beach, is it? Am I so far gone that I am seeing things? The whisper turns into a voice 'Go, swim.' I start to swim towards my beach, my old life. Instead of viewing the waves as the enemy, I use them. I ride them in, one at a time. I get closer. I am close enough to see that yes! YES! This is the beach I left behind, I swim faster. I will not let the water take control again. I will not give up my will to survive this.
Survive.
I will survive. I realize I am able to touch the bottom of the darkness. I now use my whole body in the goal of reaching the shore. The sun is shining bright, I can feel the heat on my skin as it is encouraging me along. I see them waving, my life, my God, my family, my friends. They are shouting now. I swim faster, I am too afraid to stop now. I do not want to be pulled back in. My swim turns into a run. The water is heavy and working hard against me. I feel more and more of my body,my life coming out of the water's darkness. I feel the sand between my toes as I sprint to out of the crashing waves. I have made it. My life welcomes me back, welcomes me home. I am able to walk in the sunlight, my life is mine again. I am free. Free of the depths of the water's darkness. Free of my depression.
16.4.11
A homicide in Target
My book died today. It was a quick and quiet death, I don't think anyone around me realized it was happening; but none the less..it was. Some may view this as a suicide but realistically it was a homicide. My book (it didn't even have a title yet, although I was toying with the idea of 'The Lost Life of Evelyn Price') lived a short life and wasn't even old enough to be on paper (except for the scrap piece from work that had the names and ages of all my characters) This book had a happy life though, it excited me while I was at work thinking of the research I would do, the families I would talk to, and then the coming together of a story no one had thought of before.
I. was. wrong.
As I stood there in the book aisle of Target I began my ritual of fantasy; thinking of one day having my book beside the numerous ones that people (like myself) pick up to read the back cover and decide if there as been a connection enough to buy, take home, and become friends with. Like I said, this was a homicide and it happened before my very own eyes. 'Still Alice' stood out to me and for some reason I had an urge to pick up the book. Like most murderers Still Alice had a simple cover and inviting font. As I turned the book slowly and began to read the summary the screams became louder and louder in my head. How could this Lisa Genova have stolen my idea for a book? She lives all the way in Massachusetts for goodness sakes there's no way our paths could have crossed. Plus I have only been thinking about my book for the last year or so, she wrote Still Alice in 2007!
My husband, Stephen, came to find me holding the murder weapon in my hand and the look of disbelief on my face. 'Someone has written my book already!' I was practically shouting now as I shook the book at him. He took it from me flipping through the pages and casually stated that this probably wasn't the first book about Alzheimer (yeah I found out how to spell it THANKS TO LISA GENOVA!) I could still write mine.
I moved to stage two of the grieving process as I read her bio (rage is stage two right?) 'Lisa Gevona, a first-time novelist (well I would have been too if she hadn't stolen my idea) holds a Ph.D. in neuroscience from Harvard University (of course she would) and is an online columnist for the National Alzheimer's Association (go ahead, add salt to the wound why don't you!) She lives with her family in Massachusetts.
Now I would agree with Stephen, I could still write mine, if I hadn't read the summery. 'Still Alice is about a women in her fifties (Evelyn would have been in her 60s) and starts becoming disoriented and forgetful (there's my first 3 chapters!!!!) 'a tragic diagnosis changes her life- and her relationship with her family and the world-forever. ( Holy Sh*t, this was almost word for word my thoughts 3 nights ago as I lay a wake thinking about my chapters to come) I can not still write my book. My book is hers except at an elementary level. She would probably read mind and think 'Aw that's cute, it's like my first draft.'
I stood there in shock still as a grin spread across Stephen's face, "maybe you should read it and get a few pointers for your book.' he was finding this humorous. How could he find this funny, there was a death right in front of him could he not see I was mourning my loss. The blood was still dripping from the pages and the yellow tape was starting to go up around the aisle. He shrugged his shoulders and moved on to the sporting goods. I slammed the book back on the shelf and stomped away, only to suddenly change my mind. I went back to the crime scene grabbed the guilty and threw it in the paddy wagon (our cart) There has to be closure to this. I have to say good-bye and the only way to do that is to read 'Still Alice' and see what my success looks like; but the view point is different than I pictured. I'm looking in from the outside instead of the opposite.
Congratulations 'Still Alice' you got away with murder.
I. was. wrong.
As I stood there in the book aisle of Target I began my ritual of fantasy; thinking of one day having my book beside the numerous ones that people (like myself) pick up to read the back cover and decide if there as been a connection enough to buy, take home, and become friends with. Like I said, this was a homicide and it happened before my very own eyes. 'Still Alice' stood out to me and for some reason I had an urge to pick up the book. Like most murderers Still Alice had a simple cover and inviting font. As I turned the book slowly and began to read the summary the screams became louder and louder in my head. How could this Lisa Genova have stolen my idea for a book? She lives all the way in Massachusetts for goodness sakes there's no way our paths could have crossed. Plus I have only been thinking about my book for the last year or so, she wrote Still Alice in 2007!
My husband, Stephen, came to find me holding the murder weapon in my hand and the look of disbelief on my face. 'Someone has written my book already!' I was practically shouting now as I shook the book at him. He took it from me flipping through the pages and casually stated that this probably wasn't the first book about Alzheimer (yeah I found out how to spell it THANKS TO LISA GENOVA!) I could still write mine.
I moved to stage two of the grieving process as I read her bio (rage is stage two right?) 'Lisa Gevona, a first-time novelist (well I would have been too if she hadn't stolen my idea) holds a Ph.D. in neuroscience from Harvard University (of course she would) and is an online columnist for the National Alzheimer's Association (go ahead, add salt to the wound why don't you!) She lives with her family in Massachusetts.
Now I would agree with Stephen, I could still write mine, if I hadn't read the summery. 'Still Alice is about a women in her fifties (Evelyn would have been in her 60s) and starts becoming disoriented and forgetful (there's my first 3 chapters!!!!) 'a tragic diagnosis changes her life- and her relationship with her family and the world-forever. ( Holy Sh*t, this was almost word for word my thoughts 3 nights ago as I lay a wake thinking about my chapters to come) I can not still write my book. My book is hers except at an elementary level. She would probably read mind and think 'Aw that's cute, it's like my first draft.'
I stood there in shock still as a grin spread across Stephen's face, "maybe you should read it and get a few pointers for your book.' he was finding this humorous. How could he find this funny, there was a death right in front of him could he not see I was mourning my loss. The blood was still dripping from the pages and the yellow tape was starting to go up around the aisle. He shrugged his shoulders and moved on to the sporting goods. I slammed the book back on the shelf and stomped away, only to suddenly change my mind. I went back to the crime scene grabbed the guilty and threw it in the paddy wagon (our cart) There has to be closure to this. I have to say good-bye and the only way to do that is to read 'Still Alice' and see what my success looks like; but the view point is different than I pictured. I'm looking in from the outside instead of the opposite.
Congratulations 'Still Alice' you got away with murder.
12.4.11
Unexpected Visitor
Well a few updates to give you all out there (Hi mom!) I got an email back from the director of the writing workshop; I'm going to be going to the first class and then we get to decide if the workshop is something I want to take. I'm very excited about it and hope this will be extremely helpful for me:)
Also last night I was awaken by our adorable (sarcasm, laying it on thick) puppy Stella at 3:25 am and could not get back to sleep. It wasn't because I wasn't tired because trust me I was yawning up a storm but my mind would not stop thinking about my characters that I have come up with for my book. I have all the main characters down and I was thinking about topics for chapters, or how to work them into the story line. Plus I'm having a hard time with how I want it to end. My mind would seriously NOT shut up though. I probably should have just gotten up and started writing but I didn't thinking I would actually go back to sleep but Evelyn Price (my main character) would not leave. I don't mind getting visitors, just not at 4 in the morning.
Oh! Tomorrow is our first book club meeting as well, I'm excited to meet the other girls and see what they thought of the book as well. The movie is coming out this weekend so maybe our whole group will go see it!:) Although I don't know how good it will be with Robert Pattenson playing the main role. Anyway, I think I'm going to go write about the Price family now.
Also last night I was awaken by our adorable (sarcasm, laying it on thick) puppy Stella at 3:25 am and could not get back to sleep. It wasn't because I wasn't tired because trust me I was yawning up a storm but my mind would not stop thinking about my characters that I have come up with for my book. I have all the main characters down and I was thinking about topics for chapters, or how to work them into the story line. Plus I'm having a hard time with how I want it to end. My mind would seriously NOT shut up though. I probably should have just gotten up and started writing but I didn't thinking I would actually go back to sleep but Evelyn Price (my main character) would not leave. I don't mind getting visitors, just not at 4 in the morning.
Oh! Tomorrow is our first book club meeting as well, I'm excited to meet the other girls and see what they thought of the book as well. The movie is coming out this weekend so maybe our whole group will go see it!:) Although I don't know how good it will be with Robert Pattenson playing the main role. Anyway, I think I'm going to go write about the Price family now.
11.4.11
Book Ideas
I thought about a book I want to write today. I even came up with the character's names and ages. I think the fact that this happened to my family first hand has to play into the fact as to why I want to write about it. I want to write a book about a family that deals with the fact that their mother is diagnosed with Alzimer's(sp? I should probably find out how to spell first, huh?) Disease. I already know this is going to be a sad book but at the same time I think many people can relate to this topic. I will be reseraching it and hopefully talking to more families besides my own about the experiences they had dealing with this horrble disease.
I also started writing about my first job out of college; although this one is a little big more funny and possibly to vent my frustrations about the people I worked with. I like having more than one project because this way if I get writer's block on one book then I can hop over to a different one...but I can image this getting confusing at the same time, we'll just haveto see what works for me I guess. I found a writer's workshop in town that meets once a week for 6 weeks and it starts on Apr 21. I'm pretty excited about it because I feel this is a big step in becoming a better and possibly published author!
One that note I need to email the man in charge of the workshop to make sure there is room for me:)
I also started writing about my first job out of college; although this one is a little big more funny and possibly to vent my frustrations about the people I worked with. I like having more than one project because this way if I get writer's block on one book then I can hop over to a different one...but I can image this getting confusing at the same time, we'll just haveto see what works for me I guess. I found a writer's workshop in town that meets once a week for 6 weeks and it starts on Apr 21. I'm pretty excited about it because I feel this is a big step in becoming a better and possibly published author!
One that note I need to email the man in charge of the workshop to make sure there is room for me:)
10.4.11
One topic leads to another
Today all I wanted to do was sit in the sunshine and read my book. Today was in the high 70s which is a bit odd for this time of year (but then again it is the Midwest, it could be snowing tomorrow) I sat on our balcony with the chicken soup book and let my senses take it all in. I could feel the warmth from the sun kiss my skin. I was listening to the bird's sing to God and praise His beauty. I could smell the sweat that had developed on my skin and it smelled of summer. My eyes took in more words of encouragement about writing and mostly importantly my brain took everything in all at once to come to the conclusion that it was a fabulous day to be alive!
I was so inspired to write again that I pulled out a piece of paper and pen and began to the woman that has been on my mind that past few days: my grandma. I don't know why God has been putting her in my thoughts but I thought it might be time to tell her how I feel and not in three words that are suppose to mean so much and yet can not express my admiration, gratitude, and inspiration that I feel with memories of her.
I wanted to let her know that I admire and look up to her as a woman of God and aspire to one day have a relationship with Him as she does. I want to be able to be a witness as I feel she is, I want people to be able to see God working through my life as I have seen Him work through hers. I know we all have doubts about ourselves but I feel that it is important to let my grandmother know all the positives attributes I see in her.
I don't think my generation (myself included) can fully understand where we are going until we know where we came from. Unfortunately it is usually too late to find out where that is because we have pushed aside our relationships with the elders in our life for 'more important' things or at least things that we feel are more important. It isn't until they are gone that we realize the importance of a relationship. I worry about our future because I don't think this realization is happening as often as it should. We don't understand what we are missing out on because we do not value those relationships and life lessons we can gain from them the way those before us did. I don't want to be one of those people, I want to learn more about my family and where they have been and have come from so I can appreciate them the way I should and of course have a deeper appreciation for who I am as well.
I think it is important to tell those who are important to you how you feel and why you feel those things. Do it before it is too late. It is hard living life with regrets, so do not let this be one of them. Now go and let someone know how you feel about them; work at building a stronger relationship with them it will make their life and yours so much better.
I was so inspired to write again that I pulled out a piece of paper and pen and began to the woman that has been on my mind that past few days: my grandma. I don't know why God has been putting her in my thoughts but I thought it might be time to tell her how I feel and not in three words that are suppose to mean so much and yet can not express my admiration, gratitude, and inspiration that I feel with memories of her.
I wanted to let her know that I admire and look up to her as a woman of God and aspire to one day have a relationship with Him as she does. I want to be able to be a witness as I feel she is, I want people to be able to see God working through my life as I have seen Him work through hers. I know we all have doubts about ourselves but I feel that it is important to let my grandmother know all the positives attributes I see in her.
I don't think my generation (myself included) can fully understand where we are going until we know where we came from. Unfortunately it is usually too late to find out where that is because we have pushed aside our relationships with the elders in our life for 'more important' things or at least things that we feel are more important. It isn't until they are gone that we realize the importance of a relationship. I worry about our future because I don't think this realization is happening as often as it should. We don't understand what we are missing out on because we do not value those relationships and life lessons we can gain from them the way those before us did. I don't want to be one of those people, I want to learn more about my family and where they have been and have come from so I can appreciate them the way I should and of course have a deeper appreciation for who I am as well.
I think it is important to tell those who are important to you how you feel and why you feel those things. Do it before it is too late. It is hard living life with regrets, so do not let this be one of them. Now go and let someone know how you feel about them; work at building a stronger relationship with them it will make their life and yours so much better.
9.4.11
The Reading Club
I have an overwhelming urge to write today. I went to my local library on Friday and found 'Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul' It is inspiring to hear how others started writing, why, what and where. It's encouraging that many people have started by thinking the same thing I have. 'Who cares what I have to say? And why would anyone want to PAY for my stories?' I have to say my writing has been a hidden talent, even from myself at times. I know that I have a creative mind and many different ideas for stories but other than that; I wouldn't consider myself a 'real' writer. Although after reading this book, who's to say (including myself) that I am not a REAL writer. I'm writing right now, am I not? Therefore I am a writer.
I would have to say my love for words actually started out as a love/hate relationship. I was in first grade and I so desperately wanted to read. My mother had been reading to me for years, taking me to the library with her and helping me pick out books to read together in the days to come. I was so enthralled with the words, always wondering what they said and how to actually comprehend them in my mind. I felt like it was a secret club, members only and I was not yet a member. As the children in my classroom began to understand sounds and recognize words I fell behind. I would get so frustrated and worked up that I would break into a sweat trying to read. I was sent to a special classroom with other students that were having a hard time learning to read. I now am grateful for my teachers Mrs. Fast and Mrs. Cripe for this opportunity but at the time as a six year old; I was mortified. I was so embarrassed by being in this class, I mean I loved books! I should be able to read!
Luckily I learned, slow to start but I am proud to say today I am a speed reader. I devour books 2-3 in a week. I lose myself in the storyline and become friends with the characters. I laugh when they do something funny, cry when something sad happens and (maybe I shouldn't admit this) think about them when I am unable to pick up my book. I think my love for books/reading was magnified in that first grade classroom. This was a society I wanted to be part of and I was having a mighty hard time getting in. I had to fight for that membership, I would cry, get mad, hate myself for how 'stupid' I was.
I am not stupid. This has taken me many years to realize but it is the truth. This was test, an obstacle to overcome, a realization of a hidden talent just waiting to be seen. I can write. I can write because I can read and I can read because I took the time to fight for it. Of course there were days I didn't want to practice but I did because I knew this was something special, even at the tender age of six I knew this was something I wanted in my life....
I have so much more to say but to be honest I want to organize my thoughts. I will say this. I am going to write everyday. To be a writer you must write. And write I will do...
Now back to my reading :)
I would have to say my love for words actually started out as a love/hate relationship. I was in first grade and I so desperately wanted to read. My mother had been reading to me for years, taking me to the library with her and helping me pick out books to read together in the days to come. I was so enthralled with the words, always wondering what they said and how to actually comprehend them in my mind. I felt like it was a secret club, members only and I was not yet a member. As the children in my classroom began to understand sounds and recognize words I fell behind. I would get so frustrated and worked up that I would break into a sweat trying to read. I was sent to a special classroom with other students that were having a hard time learning to read. I now am grateful for my teachers Mrs. Fast and Mrs. Cripe for this opportunity but at the time as a six year old; I was mortified. I was so embarrassed by being in this class, I mean I loved books! I should be able to read!
Luckily I learned, slow to start but I am proud to say today I am a speed reader. I devour books 2-3 in a week. I lose myself in the storyline and become friends with the characters. I laugh when they do something funny, cry when something sad happens and (maybe I shouldn't admit this) think about them when I am unable to pick up my book. I think my love for books/reading was magnified in that first grade classroom. This was a society I wanted to be part of and I was having a mighty hard time getting in. I had to fight for that membership, I would cry, get mad, hate myself for how 'stupid' I was.
I am not stupid. This has taken me many years to realize but it is the truth. This was test, an obstacle to overcome, a realization of a hidden talent just waiting to be seen. I can write. I can write because I can read and I can read because I took the time to fight for it. Of course there were days I didn't want to practice but I did because I knew this was something special, even at the tender age of six I knew this was something I wanted in my life....
I have so much more to say but to be honest I want to organize my thoughts. I will say this. I am going to write everyday. To be a writer you must write. And write I will do...
Now back to my reading :)
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