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This is a journal of hope for the journey to a place of representation and publication. It's as much about a dream as it is about honing a craft, dealing with rejection, finding acceptance and growing in endurance. It's about this writer's life, plain and simple, with all of its struggles as well as its triumphs.
Statistics for CJ's
Number of Readers that added this blog to their MyJacketFlap: 1
Current word count: 65,731 (In final revisions of my current manuscript.)
Song on my playlist: "Hey Ya" (The acoustic version by Obadiah Parker)
Drink of choice: A VERY large coffee. (Caramel Macchiato)
It's just after 8:00 AM, and I'm attempting to get my groove thang going this morning. It's been a bit of a trying week. Actually, that would be an understatement. Applying the "ass-to-chair" method has gone awry at some point, and now I find myself in a tizzy trying to catch up.
I'm a goal oriented person. If I don't set deadlines for myself, then, who will? The problem with that is I know, deep down in the crevices of my mind, that no one is going to breathe down my neck if I let a self-imposed date slipped passed me. I'm an "indie writer," after all. So, I have every option to go at my own pace and finish when I finish. However, the flip side to this is that it's oh so easy to allow the distractions of life to come in and steal away my time and attention.
That's exactly what's happened to me these past few weeks. Between work, family events, yada, yada, yada, I've let a set goal date for completion of my final revisions slip past me. It was at lightning speed. All I know is that I heard a "swoosh" and papers went flying, everywhere. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.)
So, here I sit... blogging. Makes sense, right?
Anyhoo, I'm just about finished. I do have a few final chapters that I have to tweak. Then, I will set my launch date and push the "publish" button. At which time, an inevitable freak out season will incur.
Maybe, that's my problem. Commitment issues. Committing to pushing the button. Maybe I'm afraid of the rejection factor and what people will think about my writing. Of course, I don't expect to please everyone. You can NEVER please everyone. You can have 1,000,000,000,000,000 great reviews. But, oh that ONE! That one that stings so badly, you need an EpiPen to save yourself from Anaphylaxis shock. Yeah... that ONE, sucky, horrible, nasty review.
I think that writers, although we love what we do and are passionate about our craft, have this innate sense of foreboding that can paralyze us with over analyzing our work and bitch slap our creative muse. Even when we are writing what we love, we have to keep in mind our readership. We want to deliver on our promises. We want to earn the right to be read. After all, even after all of our sacrifice of time and mental energy used to complete our "masterpiece," it's the reader who is sacrificing their money to purchase our work, and then, their time to read it. I don't ever want to take that for granted.
I guess I said all that to say, I'm nervous. As I draw this work to a close, I'm hoping that my novel will deliver. My desire is that readers will connect with my characters and fall in love with them, as I have. That my readership will be moved with compassion, laugh, and cry. And, that on some level, they will relate to these beautiful people that have been birthed from deep within my soul.
So, I will push that button.
XOXO,
C.J.
P.S. I will be scheduling a virtual launch party for SOD via Facebook. I hope that you will join me. I will be posting the particulars, soon. If you are an author, and would like to join my party, I would love to post links to your work as well. And, as always, if you've enjoyed this post, please let me know! It's always awesome to hear from others.
" I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still." ~ Sylvia Plath
Time: 7:14 AM
Word count on my current WIP: 10,515
Song on my playlist: "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones
What I'm drinking: A medium coffee. (It's still early.)
Yeah, I know. Three posts in three days. Don't get used to it. I go back to work on Sunday and return to the 14 hour work day that will cut severely into my writing time. Then, I will probably only post once a week. But, I'm enjoying it while it lasts.
It occurred to me that writers are the only people that can get by with telling others that we have voices in our heads without it being suggested that we should be highly medicated. Think about it.
Are we crazy, brilliant, or both?
There are some authors, that I would dare say, are totally wack-a-doodle, and others who are off the charts on the IQ scale and should join Mensa. But, I'd like to think that we "regular" writer folk fall somewhere in the middle. Beautiful minds that walk the fine line between slightly disturbed and just plain clever.
To do what we do must have elements of both. What person in their right mind would sit for hours a day typing out a make-believe scenario that is playing out in their head? Sacrificing time and energy that could be spent doing other things. (Yeah, I know... that last line made no sense to me, either. What else would we do if we weren't writing? As Gloria Steinem has said, "Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.") I should know. I spent the last several years trying not to be a writer. And, the voices haunted me, daily. I'm truly at peace when I'm writing.
I believe the crazy begins with the voice in the head and brilliance comes from knowing how, and being willing to, release that crazy onto the paper. I don't know about you, but I'm always hearing the "voices." And, it can drive you mad if you don't release the hell hounds that are running rampant in your brain.
So, is it a gift or a curse?
It's a gift. There's a reason that we are given this gift of the "voice." That little spark of something with promise drops into our consciousness like a bug in our ear. It will buzz until we do something about it. Just as any artist who feels driven to pick up his paints, or a photographer that won't leave the house without her camera, we have been given a gift to create.
Our ability to create something from a simple inspiration, that won't let us rest, enables us to free others through our dedication to the craft. They can escape, for a moment. They can live in another realm that lies between the two covers. They can leave their reality for a while and be transported to another time and place. You know all of this, I'm not saying anything new. I'm just approaching a topic that we've all thought about at one time or another. That being, "Am I crazy for doing this?" Yes, yes you are. But, you're also brilliant.
Not everyone can do this thing called writing. Just like not everyone can be a physicist, or mathematician, or artist, or... whatever. You get my point. We all are gifted with brilliance in one arena or another. And whatever that "call" is, if you're not doing it, it will hunt you down and stalk you everyday until you do something about it. Plot twist... I'd venture to say that the truly crazy ones are the ones who refuse to listen to the heart-cry of their creative muse. Sanity comes when we heed. Because, that's where the joy of being in harmony with our destiny lies.
When you're doing what you know you've been born to do, when the going gets tough, and the rejection hits, you'll have the tenacity to continue on and push through. Because, you know that you are fulfilling what you were called to do. You are a writer.
So, embrace the insane brilliance that is you. You have a special gift. You have stories to tell that no one else can. See where the voices take you. In turn, you'll be taking others along for the ride on the crazy train.
If you are enjoying my posts, please be so kind as to leave a comment or subscribe. If you have a blog or Twitter, let me know in the comment section.
xoxo,
CJ
"Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open." ~ Natalie Goldberg
Word count for current WIP: 9,867 (Not counting typed out plotting and some dialogue.)
Currently erupting from my playlist: National Anthem by Lana Del Rey
What I'm drinking: A very large coffee. (I'm really tired today.)
I have the above quote on my vision board. I have several quotes that inspire me on that board. It's hung up right next to my desk. I also have a picture of Ernest Hemingway with his quote, "The first draft of anything is shit." It's framed and on my desk along with some family photos. Whenever I get the urge to stop free writing and over edit myself during the first go 'round, I glance up at him and he gives me his, "It's crap... and it's OK!" look. Then, I keep plugging away.
As I've begun my new novel, I've pondered Ms. Goldberg's words. I've always written from a safe place, I guess. That was the main reason why my first novel didn't get repped. I rewrote it twice for the agent. But, at the end of the day, I just played things way too cautiously. (I don't mean gratuitous stuff. I mean that I didn't go deep enough. I didn't go enough into the dark, scary places that my character needed to go within his soul to grow and find resolution.) I didn't split open and pour my innards out onto the page. And, I've come to the conclusion that because of that, I really didn't tell his whole story. Therefore, it didn't work.
To tell a story and to tell it well means to tell the secret things of the heart and mind. Not only show the struggle, but to be in the struggle along with the character. Readers must invest in the gamble. It has to hit them in the gut so hard, that they lose their breathe. The inner struggles of our characters must be so deep, so transparent, so authentic, that when they grieve we grieve. When they find victory, we celebrate with them. When they are broken, a little piece of ourselves breaks with them.
That's what makes them memorable. That's what makes them real.
Truly feeling what your characters are feeling can be overwhelming at times. But, that is the sweet spot. I'm learning through this process, how to pour myself out. A scene I wrote, night before last, left me emotional and spent. And, that's OK. It should. If I didn't feel that way, how could I expect my readers to?
Inner conflict is crucial. It's human. And, building deep inner conflict within our characters is key. We have to go to those places that scare us, that disturb us, that frighten us. That's the only place where redemption can come... from a place of great need. A need to understand, heal, grow, and restore. It's powerful. It's real.
As writers, must take the plunge in to the deep end. We have to take this journey with our characters. We have to feel so they can, in turn, feel. Then, and only then, will our readers feel as well.
Baring our soul is a scary proposition. And, for some of you, it may not even be an issue. But, for me it was. I grew up hiding a lot of my feelings and emotions which, in turn, shaped who I was at a certain level as a writer. Writing raw emotional scenes were disturbing to me. Not to mention the writing of the scenes that caused the emotional responses of my characters. To get in touch with such deep emotions can be scary. It's makes us feel vulnerable as we chip away at the hard outer exterior and expose our fleshy weaknesses, exposing our human frailty and flaws. But, that is what makes us human. That's what will make our characters human.
One of my all time favorite movies is, "Out of Africa." In it is a beautiful line when Denys comes to visit Karen after her rummage sale, and is preparing to leave Africa forever. (I will paraphrase as I'm not sure I will have it totally correct.) Karen tells him how she tortures herself in the bad times by remembering the good times. Then she says, "And, when I'm sure that I can't take it anymore, I go one step further... will you help me?" And, takes him by the hand and pulls him out to dance with her among her picked over items that remain on her lawn.
DAMNNN!!
I cry, every time. But, that's how we need to be as a writer. As an amazing and memorable writer. When our characters have been taken by us to the deepest crevices of the pit of life, we need to go down there with a shovel and dig that pit just a little deeper.
I'm determined to stretch myself to uncomfortable lengths to tell my next story. How about you?
If you got anything out of this, I would be so happy to hear about it. Let me know where you're at in your writing endeavors.
xoxo,
CJ
It’s 7:50 AM, and I’m enjoying my fourth day of my eight day “stay-ca.” Sitting at my desk with my coffee, listening to Milky Chance’s, ”Stolen Dance,” and organizing my day in my head.
I took PTO in order to throw myself back into my writing. It was probably one of the best decisions I’ve made, in a long time. Unlike, say, dumping my old blog in an attempt to begin anew. (Sometimes, a symbolic gesture isn’t all it’s cracked up to be… just sayin’.) Now, I have 0 followers. We live and learn. But, I digress.
As I sat down to post this morning, I began to think of all the reasons I set aside my writing, some years ago. Now, I have always felt I was still a writer, in some aspects. I kept a writer’s blog (on occasion), I kept a sparse journal, I plotted scenes and dialogue in my head. I can’t remember a day that went by that I didn’t yearn to be a writer. It felt something like when I was living elsewhere. I’m a Native Floridian, water-baby, and beach lover. But, my hubby’s profession took us away for nine years. I was land-locked for all of that time, and although I tried, with some success, to adapt to my life in these various locations, I knew I was a Floridian, and a southerner, at heart.
Some of my dearest friends are in other states. But, my life and my breathe, were in Florida. In all those years, I was who I was, no matter what state I lived in. (And, I lived in some pretty hip and cool places!) So, even in the winters while I was dressed in garb that was more fitting for Eskimos (and wore it damn well) I longed for the bikini with the crocheted cover up and flip flops. As breathtaking as the Pocono landscape was during the changes of seasons, I grieved for the ever constant roar of the ocean and the air seasoned with salt. I was a Floridian. Location didn’t change who I was.
We hear, so often that, “writers write!” Yes, that’s very true. But, what if you’re not currently writing. Does that change who you are? Will you allow your current circumstances to determine your identity? That’s the danger. I had circumstances arise that caused me difficulty in continuing with the writing process. I put my manuscript and WIPs in the drawer (figuratively speaking, as they’re on my computer) and moved on to more pressing issues. Then, a year later, I felt awful for having done that. I felt guilt. I had thrown in the proverbial towel. I was a quitter. Therefore, I was no longer a writer. Simply because, writers don’t quit.
Fast forward six years. (Yes, I know… makes me shudder.) By this time, I had completely disengaged from the writing community, took up other interests, as I had difficulty relating to my former identity. Not for a lack of desire. But, I had allowed life to get in the way. (A few more moves, cancer surgery, the necessity to return to full-time employment, personal challenges… bah waaaahh!) Well, you get the picture.
The catch is, even during those “wasted years” I never was free from an interior pull from my creative muse. She was anemic and frail. But, she still believed in me and that I could revive her. She trusted me. She always kept the hope that I would not let her die alone locked in a basement, starving and cold, with want for affection.
Three years ago, we decided that it had been long enough. We packed up and moved back to Florida. It was scary to return home after being away so long. People change, you change. Your hope is that you can find your way back to open arms and pick up, as best as you can, where you left off, so many years earlier. Some things remain the same, and others don’t. You deal. And, a few months ago, I decided the same should be done for my writing.
What price have I paid for the time I squandered? Well, my initial thoughts would have to be my lost relationships in the writing community. My lost momentum with writing 3000 words per day and my organized submission process. Being in the know of what’s going on in the industry. The loss of respect from some fellow writers (and friends) that believe I’m a quitter, and may walk away again, when times get tough.
Well, let me just say, that times are probably as difficult as they’ve ever been. Yet, I’ve looked back on the years as a learning experience. I believe I’ve grown and matured in a lot of ways. I have more to say, and the confidence to say it. I’m a little more timid in some ways, as I venture on to new writer’s forums (new to me) and put myself back out there. But, it’s good. No, it’s damn good!
Most importantly, I’ve grown as an individual. I’ve learned valuable lessons. I’ve taken responsibility for my past and have told myself, “Suck it up, Buttercup! This is your life. The good, the bad, and the questionable. And, it’s OK… move on!”
I’ve unlocked the basement of my soul and released the muse. I’ve fed her, washed her, and consoled her with the promise that I’ll not abuse her kindness in the future. I’ve learned to appreciate her and love her for her patience with me. And, in return, she’s been generous.
Now, I’m currently working on my second novel. And, as I’ve mentioned earlier, I actually took vacation time to write. If that’s not determination, I don’t know what is. Especially being that I’ve not had a real vacation in four years. I’m seriously honing my craft. I’m prioritizing. Most importantly, I’m writing.
So, was I a writer during those years in the desert? Yes… yes, I was. I am who I am, no matter what I may or may not be doing. Moving to MO didn’t make me a mid-westerner like moving to PA didn’t make me a northerner. No matter where I lived, I was a Floridian. Whether or not we stray from a path doesn’t really change our life course. We are who we are, in spite of our choices. And, the path from point A to point B is not always a straight line. All we can do is learn from our decisions.
Please understand that I’m not advocating the abandonment of your dreams when times get tough. I’m just saying that if for some reason you do, you can always return, with your identity intact. You are who you are.
I’m a writer.
xoxo,
CJ
P.S. If you have found this post helpful or enjoyed it in any way, please let me know. I would so appreciate it!
"Like stones, words are laborious and unforgiving, and the fitting of them together, like the fitting of stones, demands great patience and strength of purpose and particular skill." - Edmund Morrison
What's the current song on my play-list? Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding.
What's the current status of my writing? I'm writing this blog post. (Two entries within a week! I'm golden at this point!)
Sometimes, that's the best I've got to give. Other times, I'm a very good girl, and don't quit for the day until I've put down 3000 words into a current WIP. Those days, as of late, have been a distant memory.
Mr. Morrison had it so right... writing is freakin' hard work. And, sometimes, you need a swift kick-in-the butt, to keep on keeping on.
So, I've decided to get my little duckies in a row, re-organize my life to include writing again, and pick back up with a mentor to help me stay focused and keep on track with my current writing endeavors. When I go at it alone, I find that I allow the arduousness of it all (work, family, home-making, AND writing) to tire and discourage me.
I was so much better at being faithful and consistent when I was writing full-time. When I was afforded the luxury of giving myself wholeheartedly to it, I lived, breathed, and ate the art of writing. And, it was the most wonderful time of my life. However, times and circumstances changed, and with that, so did my writing disciplines.
When I had to return to working full-time, out of the home, I slowly began to wane in reaching my goals. And, as the last four or five years have gone by, I've lost my conviction in my writing from completing a manuscript every 6-8 months to simply posting, occasionally, on my blog.
But, if I learned anything from this experience, it's been that I can't have what I'm not willing to work for. Really, honestly, work hard for.
As it is with anything in life, if we want something bad enough, it takes sacrifice of time, energy, resources... bits and pieces of ourselves... to make something that reflects who we are and what it is that we want to accomplish for ourselves. If something is going to speak for me, I want it to speak volumes. I don't want to put forth a half-hearted effort, and have that reflect on who I am as a writer and artist.
Maybe that's why I didn't do very much, until recently. I think I was frightened that the best of myself would be compromised by my lack of time and energy to really put forth my full effort. Or, maybe it was simply a cop-out. Either way, I found myself another year older, and drifting precariously farther away from who I had been and identified with for so long.
I guess, if I'm to be transparent and authentic in this, I'll confess... I became lazy, as well. If it didn't come easy, I couldn't do it anymore. The effort became too great. But, I lost sight of the rewards that would be to come if I had continued to pursue and reach for the elusive brass ring.
It was easy to say that I was too busy to sit and write, and that was true to an extent. But, I have the same 24 hours in the day that everyone else who has accomplished their goals have. I'm not the only woman who works full-time, and has a hubby and kids, and housework, and friends, and family, and other interests and obligations that vie for her time and attention.
In the midst of all of this navel-gazing, what I have found that I really don't have time for anymore is excuses.
Now, I just have to learn how to make this work.
It will come, though... with great patience and strength of purpose and particular skill.
xoxo,
CJ
Another year has been spent and a new one is about to begin. Resolutions are flying around like mosquitoes over standing water, and as I relish in the victory that was living through the 2012 apocalypse *slight smirk*, I can't help but wonder what 2013 will bring. How many events will transpire because of "destiny" and what will simply be a result of my choosing?
2012 was a very trying year for me. I didn't follow through with anything that I desired for myself (as I'm sure you've noticed by my extreme lack of posting). Yes, I admit that I dropped the proverbial ball of inspiration and creativity, and let it roll under the couch of passivity and martyrdom. I blamed situations and circumstances for my dry season instead of watering the seeds of artistic expression. I allowed my day job, my lack of energy, my... whatever, to dictate whether or not I was, in fact, an artist and writer. In a sense, I simply forgot who I was... err... am.
I have a choice going into 2013... do I continue to struggle with waiting for everything to be perfect before I press into what the muses have been saving for me? Do I beat myself up with all the regrets and "you should haves?" Or, do I simply brush myself off, and move on with a fresh outlook and a new beginning? I choose the latter.
Now, I'm not saying that I won't be tempted to be hard on myself from time to time. I'm really bad at that. Or, should I say good at that? Nobody ever needs to remind me of my shortcomings, because I'm terrific at doing that for myself. However, all my misguided and wasted writhing over what I could or could not do during this passed year has yielded me nothing more than frustration, an empty creative spirit, and broken promises to myself.
However, I have chosen to learn the lessons that 2012 had so generously afforded me, and will choose to live a more fulfilling 2013. Embracing the miracles of the moment, and finding the joy in the trying times.
Artists tend to be a bit more melancholy than most, we all know that. But, we always should remember that life is a beautiful subject to be painted, whether by colors or words.
I'm excited about this upcoming year and what it will have in store for me (and you). I feel alive with resolve.
Tonight will be spent with my hubby planning our next year. I'm making a new "vision board" and then we will sit together on the couch with nachos, wine, and watch the ball drop.
Tomorrow, I will wake up and breathe in the new air of expectancy and joy of new beginnings with a fresh determination.
We all have choices to make for this upcoming year. Everyone has something they want to work on or change or tweak a little. We are all in this together, whatever are resolutions may be.
It's nice to know we are not alone. Even in the Armageddon of our mind.
It's been so long... I would love to hear from you all, again. I hope, in some small way, I've been able to encourage someone who may have been going through somewhat of the same challenges. Artistic block is a beast to be conquered by our resolve and determination. We all can slay the dragon.
Wishing you a Happy New Year with abundance of creativity and freedom of expression!!
xoxo,
CJ
On the playlist at the moment... Santeria by Sublime.
I'm vaping my Pina Colada flavored e-cig, and watching the delicate rain fall softly on the back patio of my tiny, quaint beach cottage while I reach deep within, and reconnect with my long lost friend, Creativity.
It's been a long time since I've sat with her. I'm so pleased to know that she still loves me, and has missed me as well. Truth is, she's always been here with me. I've just not paid her the attention she deserved. Thankfully, she's forgiven me for dissing her for so many months.
That's what happens when we allow the care of the world and potential judgement of others come in and overwhelm us. It eats away at the foundation of who we are, numbing us to the effects of what can truly make us happy and contented.
I've been on a long journey of returning to self. I've written about this before... several times, in fact.
However, I finally feel as though I've come to the end of compromising who I really am. Returning home to Florida with my family and lifetime friends has helped me a great deal. But, the past year has really solidified in my heart, that I am who I really am.
For many years, aside from the pressures of a very mentally demanding vocation, I also conformed to what others believed I should be (or rather, acted like they thought I should act). And, that affected my creative spirit. Always looking over my shoulder (figuratively speaking, of course), questioning my choices, censoring my thoughts, just giving up. Was I looking and talking the part that was expected, or was I being authentically me?
Now, I'm not a rebellious person. Nothing I do is out of rebellion (well, maybe just a tad). I just value individuality. Constraints are so easily placed on some by others. A herd mentality beats down the free-flow of creativity, and compromises the soul. The need to please the mass at the cost of one's own expression is the demise of great thought and declaration through whatever means.
Yes, I know... I'm gettin
At the close of 2010, I created a beautiful "Vision Board." Well, before our move back home to Florida, I hastily disposed of it (Ughhhh!) and have regretted it ever since. That makes two that I've now lost.
So the other day, my dear friend and I spread out over my dining room table our craft supplies, magazines, baubles and shells, as well as whatever else we thought we may need, and created new ones for our lives. (I highly encourage this. As personal as a dream/vision board is, sometimes it's a wonderful thing to share the creation of it with someone close to you who "gets" you, and encourages you in your life's aspirations.)
So, over mimosas, cuban sandwiches, and great conversation, we meticulously pieced together the hopeful stories of our lives to come. There will be additional ones, as well.
My new one, was done in text only.
It's full of sayings and words that capture the essence of what I see. Daily affirmations and the bold print that speaks so well to me. The next will be pictorial in nature.
I had someone ask me what a "Dream Board" was. So, I figured I'd repost my original blog entry on the subject from back in November, to bring clarity to what I believe these boards to be about.
The following is my post from November 2010:
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Daphne Du Maurier's "Rebecca."
Longing. Heart-breaking, gut-wrenching longing. I remember that feeling.
Mine was not of a homestead or family estate. It was of the ocean. Salty air, sand between my toes, and the high-pitched screeching of sea birds. It was of the thunderous roar of the waves crashing and spitting up upon the shore the remains of beautiful shelled creatures, whose armor was of no consequence to the awesome power of the deep.
It was of long walks filled with inspiring sights and peace-inducing breezes.
Today, I had those experiences, once again. In the midst of all of life's challenges and trying situations, I was able to decompress for a while and once again, appreciate the miracles of the moment.
I don't know if I coined the phrase, "returning to self," as I've used it on a number of occasions in my journey of a writer's life. But, today, I did. I truly feel as though I've reconnected to my self in a way that I've not felt possible in some time.
It may have to do with heading out early in the morning to watch the schools of dolphin swim by and frolic in the waves. Or observing the hawks dive into the surf and come up with a catch. Or, seeing the surfers wait patiently for the right moment to catch the wave. So many beautiful moments that serve to refresh and re-energize me in the midst of chaos and unnerving transition.
Things just don't seem to take their toll on me as much since I've returned home. I feel more resilient.
I have my moments. But, they are fewer and farther in between.
I suppose I needed this transition to get me to the place that I long to be in my writing. Baby steps, once again.
I meet my muse there at the ocean's edge. I hear her most clearly when I take the time to walk to the sand and let my vulnerability call to her. I say "vulnerability" because I'm never so alone and raw as when I go there. No make-up, no power-dressing, no masks. I'm just "me." It's so freeing. I let others walk passed and see me for who I really am. They are "raw" and real as well.
It's so refreshing. No one is there to out shine another. They're all just doing their thing, and thinking their thoughts, and processing their lives in a very simplistic way. No judgement, no competition, just living the "Salt Life."
Yes, I know. I'm fully aware that I've basically fallen off the face of the earth for the past nine months. I don't even know where to begin other than to say that my family and I have taken drastic measures to change our life-flow this year.
The truth is that, after 21 years in a certain vocation, my dear hubby and I decided that it was time for him to retire from that profession and move from the frigid tundra of the north-east region, back to southern coastal-living in our beautiful hometown in Florida. We desired to begin a new chapter of our life where we considered to be "home."
It was hectic, scary, daunting, exhausting, and down-right insane, but, we did it.
We are still adapting to all of the changes. Working different jobs, re-acclimating after being away for nine years, but, reveling in the peace that we know we made the right decision, as hard as it was. We loved our life and friends up north. But, we knew we needed a life-change.
Needless to say, during all of this chaos, I've not written a thing... seriously. Not a thing.
That's been one of the hardest issues for me to deal with. Having identified with being a "writer" for so long, and now, not writing at all for almost one year, has wreaked havoc with my mind and creative process.
I've wondered, at times, if I might have forgotten my muse during the move. Maybe she had wandered away during a pit stop in Virginia, or strayed and gotten lost somewhere between point A and point B. I've even thought she may have accidently fallen into a box labeled "Good Will," and was donated to charity before the move.
No, none of that is true. I bumped into her the other day while going through some old books and journals. She has just been patiently waiting for her turn to speak. I've found that she has been graciously sitting behind m
It's freezing, flippin' cold out there! But, at least we had a snow-day today. Yay! Love an unexpected long weekend.
I've been spending a lot of time wrestling with myself. I have the part of me that likes to have everything planned, and the part that prefers to "go with the flow." Going with the flow is winning out at the moment.
You see, I prefer to be an organic writer, which simply means that I don’t plan too much before I begin. I know where I want to go, and how I’m going to get there, but the details of it all are left to happen by osmosis. I find that I work much better that way.
I do, however, make what I call, “vision files.”
I take a file folder and paste pictures of what I imagine my characters might look like or the homes in which they may live, etc. I also throw into that file any dialogue that I may have written, or snapshots of plots or scenes. Anything I write that I think may fit into my story line, I cram into that file. But, as far as outlining, I stink at that. I feel too confined, if that makes any sense. I wish I could do that… outline. I have tried it, but I never, ever stick to it. And, I find that I can’t flow free in my thought process if I have to “stick to the rules.” (As I've said before, my creative muse gets her butt kicked by my editorial diva. And, that restricts me a bit.) So, my vision files are my organizational tool, for the time being, anyway.
I revise as I go along. I finish a portion of work, then I go back and reexamine, reassess, and modify whatever I feel may need it. Then, I go onto the next segment of work, write fresh, then I start the procedure all over again. It’s a long, arduous process, but one that works for me.
Might I change? Maybe. But, currently, I like the feeling of discovery that I get as I journey along with my characters. As long as I have the bones of the story, the flesh can be applied along the way.
I'm thinking, however, about expanding my writing endeavors to non-fiction. Then, my organizational process will have to change. I'm not yet sure what I would like to pursue as far as topic matter for articles or what have you. As a typical writer, I have many ideas. Just need to pan for gold, and get the dirt out of the way so that I can see what shines.
On a different note, I've been spending these first days of the new year grappling with what I want for myself, in all areas. I'm ready to push through what has held me back in the past, whether it be fear of rejection or failure, or lack of prioritization of my goals, or whatever. I feel as though I've embarked on a new journey.
Maybe it has to do with my age and taking more serious thought about my future. Maybe I'm maturing in certain areas and not "caring" so much about what people think, and being able to see criticisms as constructive and not taking them so personally.
Maybe, with age, brings confidence, and liking who we
I think as writers, we all come to the realization that it may take some time to become a success. I know that everyone has differing views on what writing success is or isn’t. For some it may be getting published, and that’s it. For others, it may be having healthy, consistent royalties. Still others, the hope of continued contracts for further work and nice fat advances. (Do they still even have those if you're not a movie star or someone relatively famous?) Still for others, it may be just being able to say that they’ve completed a full manuscript. Then, there are the “purists” who say they write to write only; that it doesn’t matter whether they ever become published or not. The love of the craft alone does it for them.
I can’t say that that’s where I’m at with my writing. I’m certainly not in it for the money, although it would be nice to have a reciprocal relationship with my writing and to have a little more tangible substance to go along with the joy of creating. (You know, I love to hear my husband tell me he loves me, but every now and then, a little bling-bling and sparkle does a girl some good!)
I guess, for me, I’ve not yet decided. I know that it’s more than just becoming a published author. Especially now, in this era of e-books and self-publishing, what was once frowned upon, discouraged, and disregarded as nonviable talent and caught the "roll" of many a prospective agent and or publisher's eye, now has some teeth to it. If you haven’t noticed, the publishing industry is changing, in a very big way… But, I digress.
I suppose what I am trying to say is that I want to write for the rest of my life. And, I don’t think that money alone will do it for me. In other words, I don’t think I could crank out just anything because it’s pop culture or what’s hot in the current trend. Every now and then, that would be great. But, I would like to think that my writing has touched someone’s life in a special way; that, my work didn't only serve as entertainment, but that in some way, I was able to challenge someone to dig deep within themselves and to ponder and consider the possibilities. I would like to think that when they closed the back cover of my book (or virtually turned the last page on their Kindle), they inhaled deeply and released with a sigh, saying, “Wow… now that was a story.”
This is why, no matter how many times I “walk away,” I will inevitably return to the desk and plant myself for the long hall. I just have too much to say.
So, in the meantime, I’ll keep pressing on. I’ll keep on writing, and no matter how many rejections come my way, I’ll keep charging ahead, and standing tall! I hope y
"For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning."
~T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"
I know it’s only New Year’s Eve, but, I woke this morning with a renewed sense of awe. Awe in the fact that the New Year offers me another opportunity to embrace change, a chance to begin again (a little older and hopefully wiser), and another year to consider the possibilities… a new beginning, fresh, clean, and unblemished. The New Year is like a blank journal, waiting to be written in, day after day.
For me, as a writer, who has had a very challenging last few years (which included cancer surgery), it simply means that I can shake off the disappointments of the past and push on forward with my dreams and goals of 2011. And boy, do I have dreams and goals!
As many of you know, I had pushed aside my writing endeavors for a few years and have recently picked them back up and am running full speed ahead. I could easily look back on that experience as only negative with regard to my writing. But, I choose not to. I choose, instead, to look at how I’ve grown as a person. I’ve learned, the hard way, what is and is not negotiable for me anymore. (In all areas of my life, not just as a writer.) Now, I’m excited to take what I’ve learned about myself, and what I’ve become, into this next year.
Will 2011 hold challenges and disappointments for me? Absolutely! But it will be what I do with these upcoming challenges that will determine what I accomplish and where I go in my life, as a writer, and personally. I have learned above all else, that giving up is no longer an option. Tenacity is the key!
“Love being a writer.” – Maurice Erickson (Filbert Publishing)
I love what I do. Right now, with no accolades, no applause, obscure, and unknown, with all of its frustrations, I still love what I do.
Why? Because, I’m a writer. From the depths of my being, I can bring to the surface something that has previously never existed. I get the pleasure of creating individuals who, before me, never uttered a word, or felt an emotion, or experienced life. I can paint beautiful pictures with words and control destinies.
Wow! Power trip? No, just appreciating the gift; the honor of writing. No matter where we are in our writing careers, or what exactly it is that we write, whether we’re just beginning or have been published ten times over, we must never forget that we have the ability to imagine, and to invent something that no one else can; our individual stories.
Only we can tell our stories. Even if the cord that runs through them are similar at times to others, our stories are as unique as we are, and they have come from our heart and mind; no one else’s. It’s our uniqueness that brings the flavor and color to what we create. That’s what’s beautiful about being a writer.
As discouraging as it can be, it’s our enthusiasm about this craft that keeps us going, and creating. As many times as we may give up and walk away (I have three times now, some seasons of being away have been longer than others), and think we’re done and dry, a wave of refreshment will pour over us, reviving the inspiration and restoring us to our former determined selves.
We may be at a place in our writing journey where we have a long road ahead of us, but the great thing about these roads is that they will eventually lead us to our predetermined and charted course. Some roads are shorter than others, and some have detours that seem to take us out of our way. But, eventually, we will arrive at our destination.
My intention and purpose is to enjoy this journey. Even when times get
The other day, I made myself a new "Vision Board." Most of you would know what I mean by that... a "dream" board where you adhere pics of things you're working towards in your life, inspirational quotes that fuel your energy to get there, as well as other bits and pieces that symbolize your life journey and where you would like to end up at a certain time frame in your life. I like to call them "focus triggers" that help me stay on track with my life goals.
I had another "Vision Board" some years ago, and lost it during one of the many moves we've made. I had folded it and placed it in a treasured journal, that obviously, was lost as well. (I still grieve over that lost journal to this day.) For some strange reason, I never made a new one. But, upon looking back on what I can remember about that particular board (it was actually a piece of paper where I had pasted and taped these "focus triggers") I realized something, I had actually seen it all come to pass. Every single thing that I had placed on that board happened. They weren't only dreams for myself, but for those of my family.
Now, mind you, I'm not a "name and claim it" kind of gal, and I'm fully aware of the foolishness that can transpire when individuals look to this process to be nothing more than trying to hit the "jack-pot" of life, and miss the whole point. There's so much more to it than getting what you want materialistically. Certainly, there can be those benefits. But, the over-reaching blessing of it all is to have a sense of fulfillment in the act of becoming all that you were created to be. Also, being a person of Christian faith, I do believe in, "writing down the vision and making it clear so that those who see it, can run with it and will know how things will turn out...," Habakkuk 2:2-3. ( I've paraphrased a bit, but you get the understanding.) Other faiths have their "visualization" process as well.
There's something to be said for focus and predetermination... an advanced resolve for our lives, if you will. It's a very spiritual process. It can serve to keep us focused on the very best parts of who we are. Tapping in to the creative spirit that we have all been blessed with in one arena or another.
It's also and endeavor to find out who we really are. What really makes us "tick." When I sat down to make my new board, I dug deep within myself to find what it was that excites me, what inspires me, what drives me. I needed to determine what motivated me to take the steps needed to become who I want to be. Some things spoke to my future, while others speak to me in the now. I needed things that would encourage me when I'm being challenged by self and others to reach my goals, or when I feel like throwing in the towel and giving up. I needed to have something that would remind me of who I really am and why I do what I do. And, when I'm not being the best of myself, an encouragement to return to "me."
Okay, so, I was just thinking about the beauty of the written word, and it occurred to me how public schools are not focusing much, if any, attention on cursive writing. At least, not in my daughter's school. What a travesty!
In this modern age of technologic advancement, it seems as though we are losing our souls and sacrificing an art form to another god of convenience. It saddens my heart to think that within another generation, we as a civilization, could forfeit something so beautiful, so tactile, so... personal.
Just like calligraphy, as well as other forms of personal touch, we may be looking at a future where cursive writing may become something that is studied as a hobby. Can you see it? Non-accredited classes will be held in community colleges to teach the art of cursive writing, along side of belly dancing and crochet. Ughhh! This cannot be!
There is something to be said for the written word, especially in cursive. Just knowing that, when we receive a handwritten letter, it was physically in the hands of the one who had sent it. They physically and thoughtfully put pen to paper. They lovingly folded and placed the letter in an envelope, that too, was hand addressed.
Beautiful.
So, what I'm proposing is a "Write A Handwritten Letter Day!" Let's not allow the coldness of mechanical text to replace the warmth of the written word. It all has its place. I'm not against technological advancement in any way. I just don't want to see something so beautiful as cursive writing to be lost along the way. It needn't be an "either/or" situation. They can both, wonderfully, co-exist. Let's discuss...
Let me know if you took the challenge and how it made you feel. I hope it even inspired you in other areas.
xoxo CJ
Shoe Mood:
It's been nearly one full year since my last post.
Shocking, I know!
It's been a year of learning, and change, for me in so many areas. I've taken on new challenges, and I've let go of certain things that I had previously found my identity in. Unfortunately, writing was one of those identities that found itself, temporarily, on the chopping block. Not by choice, mind you. But, by necessity.
Now, before those of you, purist writers, who would come down on me for selling out to the business of life, know that I'll be the first to confess my fault. Yes, I threw up my hands in defeat and wavered in my tenacity of "writing spirit" and walked away for a season. I'm not proud of it...
But, also know that I've discovered a new sense of self. I've unearthed the authentic "me" that had been buried under the pressures and demands of vocation and day-to-day life.
It was difficult to lay it all down, the blogs, the works-in-progress, the revisions of completed manuscripts. But, I had to exchange it for "life."
Sometimes, I find that I have too much info on the brain and I just tend to shut down my creative side in order to facilitate the "business" side of my mind. I've learned that allowing that to happen may make more room for my vocational responsibilities, but in exchange, withers my imaginative soul.
I'm an all-or-nothing type of gal. And, that poses problems for me. Especially being equal-parts right and left-brain. My creative muse is smacked down by my editorial diva on a continual basis. It can be an awful stress factor. And, there are times that I live the administrative part of my life and allow the imaginative side to fall away. It's almost easier to let her go and to focus on my job, only. (My "job" can be demanding. I direct a preschool academy, I assist my hubby in children's ministry, and I'm managing the music department at our church on an interim basis.)
My sweet husband bought me a wonderful little "Book Lover's Diary" for Christmas last year. With everything that has transpired this past year, I've yet to do anything with it. But, I absolutely LOVE IT!
So, as I'm enjoying another "snow day," I've picked up the little book, and have decided to begin recording the contents of my "library."
This journal is fabulous! A true reader's companion. You can make book lists to read, record books that you've read, lists books you want to own, books you've shared and to whom you've shared them (to insure their return, of course! ;-) etc. And, it's not very large.
If you want one, check out the Victorian Trading Co. I love that place. I own many things from them. They have a simply delightful array of items that evoke feelings of the past. Simply inspiring.
On the writing front, I've overcome my meltdown, of sorts, and have decided that until I get a definite sense of direction, I'll work on my new WIP and leave my revisions for a little while. In the past, when I have felt driven, it's usually a cue for me to take a step back and relax.
I've reinstated my writing classes as well. Now, I'm awaiting my next assignment. I'm hoping to have my old mentor back. He was so helpful and encouraging to me. I've recently recognized the need for accountability in my writing life. Not that I'm lazy, by no means... just have a lot on my plate, and I allow my writing to suffer because of it. I've not treated it with the respect and attention that it needs and deserves.
What has occurred to me is that the thing about blogging your personal writing life, is that you can come off somewhat "bipolar" in the process. You can swing high then very low. You think things are going well, then, "WHAM!" You've hit a brick wall, face on. It's the nature of the beast. It's an emotional journey. But, what fun would life be without a little emotional drama now and then?
Presently, I'm enjoying a rare and totally self-indulgent day to myself, afforded to me by the always hoped for, sometimes prayed for, ever welcomed event called the "snow-day."
Being that I work in a preschool, when the upper grades in the district have a call for a delay, we have the day off. I was really hoping for this one, and I got it... YAY!
I don't want you to think that I don't absolutely love my job... I do! It's just that I've had so much activity in my life, that I desperately needed some me-time. Today is "Me O'Clock!"
So, I plumped up my pillows, grabbed my current non-fiction read, a cup of coffee, covered up with my warm, cozy quilts and simply enjoyed the morning. Then the time came to take my 11 yr-old to school, shovel the drive, and sit down to catch up on my blog. So, here I am. The laundry can wait.
On the writing front, I've not gotten very far with my current revisions. (Are you honestly shocked by this? I think not.) However, I'm slowly, but surely, poking along. I'm trying to decide a few things about direction. I'm rethinking some advice an agent gave me. Yet, I'm not so sure that I want to go in that direction. I have to decide if I'm honestly willing to change the "bones" that much. It would be a major change in my character. Actually, it would change a lot. Who am I kidding? Only the names would stay the same. Well, the premise would be the same, I guess.
I'm just trying to decide before I get too far in my fourth revision. Do I want to keep my original intent and stick with it through "hell or high water?" Or, do I take the advice and do a rewrite to make the whole thing more "marketable" to a different age group? This has been my inner debate for over a year. Same premise, different time frame in the life of my main character. Crap!
Up to this point, I've been somewhat stubborn and inflexible. Well, not totally inflexible. I did one rewrite with a flavor of the suggested changes incorporated. But, it wasn't ultimately the total transformation that may have worked. Or, would it?
Well, it's only been in November since I've last posted. SHAME!!!! LOL!
Let me update you guys on the latest...
I'm feeling FABULOUS! Seriously! I feel really good.
I was out of sorts for a while. Had a bit of surgical shock and fatigue that was bringing me down. When I wasn't working, I didn't have the energy to blog, or work on any writing endeavors. I had to take some time to truly regenerate myself. (Being a preschool teacher and academy director can run you ragged!) I used all of my energy for work, and was empty when I got home. I did begin another blog about "Cottage Life," if that interests any of you. It's sparse as well, because it too suffered at the hand of fatigue and want of energy. But, I love it. It's another creative outlet for me. It's about "creating home" as I like to say. Check it out, if you would like. It will be updated soon, as well.
But, now I'm feeling much better and ready to take on the responsibility for what I want to happen in my writing life.
I've begun my fourth revision of my manuscript. (Don't get too excited, as I'm only on page six.) Well, at least I've started. And, I've re-enrolled in my old writing classes to keep me accountable, and dust myself off.
I hope all has been going well for you, my dear friends. I'll be returning to your blogs as well, as I've missed you guys very much!
"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anais Nin
Wow! I cannot believe how long it has been since I've last taken time to blog. A lot has transpired, and I've been trying to find my "life-flow," if you will. In case you're wondering (as I've been questioned by several of you), I'm doing quite well. Having to adjust to some things, but doing well, non-the-less.
I've not been around the blog scene, or active on the message boards, lately, as I've been so busy with teaching and running the academy. In all honesty, I've been battling with extreme fatigue. So much so, that once I'm home from work, I've not the energy or drive to think, let alone write or converse for any period of time. The spirit is willing but the flesh...
I went to my oncologist today for my 3-month appointment, and after telling him about my struggles with lack of energy and exhaustion, he decided to do blood-work to rule out thyroid problems. He said that he honestly thinks that this, and other issues, are a result of having had such major surgery only three-months out. We are hoping that's the case. I want to feel awake and alert again. I miss my creative spirit and the energy that flows within that. So, hopefully soon, I will be back to my lively self with my perky inner spirit.
I just want you all to know that I appreciate you so much, and your encouragement over the last several months has meant the world to me. I want so badly to get back in my blogging groove, and to be back in touch with you all. If I only blog a few thoughts or nuggets of encouragement every few days, know that it's only temporary, and I'll be back to my old droning self soon.
Hope all is well with all of you!
XOXO CJ
I feel fantastic!! Everything went well, and I'm doing GREAT! (I was even able to keep one ovary, so I'm thrilled that I have my own hormones and feel "even," if you can understand that.)
I know that I haven't blogged in so very long. The only thing I can say is that I have been spending a lot of time revisiting my expectations of recovery and what I had predetermined to take place in my heart and mind. None of which have happened. Seriously.
What did happen? I had a successful surgery that, for the most part, was uneventful. I spent one night in the hospital, as I was fortunate enough to have the DaVinci robotic surgery. It was minimally invasive, even for a radical hysterectomy (if leaving one ovary is still considered radical). Once the catheter was removed and I could prove that I could "pee-pee" a certain amount, as well as walk the hallways, I was free to go home. Then, my recovery process began.
I walked as much as I could, a little more everyday. I rested when I needed it, and I didn't over-exert myself. (Unless you count my going to work during week two for two days, and finding that it was way too early!) I know, I know. I felt as if I could handle it. Boy, was I wrong. Should have waited at least one more week.
But, overall, my recovery was quite uneventful, restful, and at times, even boring. I was even too bored to eat chocolate. I didn't want to read, write, or watch TV. I just wanted to get back to normal. Or, what I had expected "normal" to be. I wasn't quite sure what that was going to look like.
You see, I had been suffering with female issues since I was seventeen. All my life, it seemed, I have endured pain and discomfort. I was even infertile for eleven years before conceiving our miracle baby girl (who just turned eleven in July). I have been poked, prodded and assaulted with sharp instruments more times than I can count. So, "normal" was an enigma to me.
As I waited for normality, I realized that everything I had expected to happen, emotionally speaking, had not. I had prepared myself to "change." I mean, shouldn't I have? I just had major surgery to remove my "female parts" and I wasn't feeling like a basket case. Why?
I know that this kind of thing is different for every woman who endures it. And, I certainly would never belittle someones personal experience. I know that for many women, just the word hysterectomy can stir up visions of a daunting and frightening life-event. It was that way for me as well. I was scared. I was terrified, actually. But, I have to tell you, I was not prepared for how great I was going to be, after the event.
I honestly expected to experience some deeply profound emotional "something" following my surgery. I've even spent that last few weeks pondering my state of mind and emotions, the lack of which, have left me perplexed. That would explain my lack of posting. I didn't know what to say. Or, I was afraid to say how well everything was going, for fear that things might crumble into an emotional heap of female brokenness. But, that never happened either.
To make a very long story short, I'm well. More than well. I'm happy, healthy, and nearly 100%. I feel better than I have in years, and I've found that I have, intuitively, not looked back, other than to try to understand why I'm not emotionally missing my pieces and parts.
Maybe because I was broken and now I'm fixed. Maybe because the only good they've done for me was give me my little miracle. Maybe because I know that I'm so much better off now. Even though I knew I would be, I was concerned that I would have regrets. Or, that I would have moments of grieving my femininity. After all, don't the parts make the woman? Nonsense! My soul makes me who I am.
I actually feel more beautiful, more energetic, and more feminine than ever. I feel clean and whole (even with parts missing). I feel like me... just much improved. CJ 2.0!
So, now I continue to heal. My surgery a distant memory. I'm not CJ, a woman who had a hysterectomy. I'm just CJ... period. My life is the sum of all of its parts, (no pun intended) having equal play and impartation into my life.
I have a new haircut and new attitude. I no longer expect to be sad at the loss of those things that actually hindered me during times in my life. I look forward with expectancy and joy of a pain-free and energetic life. The best is yet to come!
XOXO CJ
Shoe Mood:
Yes... I did it all in stilettos! (If only in my mind.)
This was my reality, the first week and a half!(Thanks, Mirka, for the froggy socks! xoxo)
Monday was my youngest daughter's birthday. She turned eleven. Geesh, where does the time go?
We have a family tradition in our home, amongst us gals, to have tea and scones and undisturbed "Momma time," on our birthdays. I've been baking scones and steeping tea for too many years to count now. But, the "Birthday Tea" is by far the most special and looked forward to occasion for taking tea in our house. According to Boo-Bear, I make the best scones and grilled cheese sandwiches in the whole world. (To the left, you'll see a bit of our morning spread.)
It amazes me how my girls transform when they are handling the delicate china cups and vintage creamer and sugar bowls. Conversation almost becomes prissy-fun at first, them deepens to a more profound expression of what is really going on inside of them. Taking tea fosters conversation. I feel bad that I've let my consistent tea-times waver over the last year or so. I must get back to it, as I enjoy it so very much. (Embroidering is another activity that I've allowed to suffer.)
So, there we were, me and my two daughters, enjoying a few stolen moments together. Those moments meant the world. Happy Birthday Boo-Bear! I love you with all of my heart. xoxo
I had my pre-op appointment on Friday. It went well. Nothing really could have been expected otherwise. EKG, chest X-ray, and more blood work were the events of the day. Now, I wait until Tuesday, when I go in for the big one. *Le sigh*
I'm becoming a bit anxious. I'm not sure exactly why, as there was not a certain event or moment that triggered this feeling. It must just be the thought of what's to come. The unknown. What I do know is that I trust God is in control and He has me in the palm of His hand before, during, and after this thing.
I'm still having the irritating need to nest. It drives me batty. Especially when everything we as women do on the home-making end, like dusting, laundry, dishes, etc, is nothing more than an illusion of accomplishment in my point of view. Not a moment after we finish our chore, do we turn around and see that more needs to be done or in my case, redone. Ongoing, recurrent, necessity. Groundhog Day! (The movie.)
I'm also busying myself with a few administrative things, for the academy, that I feel would be best accomplished early so that I'll not need to worry about them during recovery. My schedule is being cut close with in-service beginning on August 17th. I won't be able to lift or over exert myself, but at least I can sit at my desk and delegate. I'm getting pretty good at that.
My hubby has made me chillax during the summer so far. So, I just dabble in work and writing stuff here and there. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for him.
I will certainly try to post before my surgery. But, If I can't get it together enough to do so, know that I'll post as soon as I'm able. Probably at the end of next week. Now, I'm off to make more lists, over-analyze situations, and post various random status updates on my Twitter. (I will Twitter, I'm sure, once I'm home from the hospital. It's an addiction that narcotics can't even break. I may not make much sense, but, how many of us really do?)
Again, your thoughts, prayers, emails, notes, and love are felt and so greatly appreciated. Words cannot express my gratitude.
xoxo CJ
Shoe Mood:
Going easy and breezy for a while.
But, still ever so stylish. ;-)
I'm presently living vicariously through others as I watch "Tori and Dean's Home Sweet Hollywood." Tori is struggling to balance career, home-making, motherhood, etc, while looking absolutely gorgeous doing it all. I think I can do that. I am, however, currently wearing my well-worn "pink" (although it's green) t-shirt, sweats with "pink" (although they're blue) across my bumm and flip-flops. I'm not feeling so glamorous at the present. I keep hearing Zsa Zsa Gabor whispering in my ear,
"You know, it's much better to look good than to feel good, Daahhlink!" Yeah, yeah, I know. At least my make-up is on and I'm having a good hair day.
I'm having a bit of a sinus funk, and needed antibiotics for it. I have my hysterectomy pre-op appointment on Friday, and cannot be sick or it can risk my surgery date. So, went to the family doc yesterday, and he concluded, as I have, that I've not had the best "go of it" as of late.
Note: Shall I remind you of a certain spider-bite situation that caused the postponement of my D&C? Then, the removal of said spider bite, which actually ended up being a sebaceous cyst that had to be cut out, and left to heal without stitches! Yeah! Did I mention this was on my cleavage? Yeah! Then, there was the pathology results of my D&C. Ug! All of this has happened since May. (Oh yeah, did I mention that I found out that I was going to need a hysterectomy on my 23rd anniversary? Yeah! Nothing like saying, "Happy Anniversary, honey! Now, let's go and see the doc about having my uterus taken out, shall we?") *Le sigh*
Anyhoo, I digress. My family doc had recently received the notes from my oncologist, briefing him on what has transpired thus far and what is going to happen from here. We talked a little bit about it all, and he encouraged me that the hysterectomy usually is the treatment for uterine cancer, and with it being so early in it's detection, I should be fine. It's just the middle part from here to there that can be a bit of a challenge.
I've been spending some time on the site
"Hyster Sisters." It's been a great encouragement to me to have a place dedicated to women who have walked, or are currently walking, the path to hysterectomy. So many stories. So many different reasons as to why they ended up in this same place as I have. It's wonderful to read the testimonies of others, and know that I'm not alone, even if I feel as though I am.
This journey is not something easy to explain to those who are not on this same path. I have my days where I'm totally fine, and then the next day I may feel frightened. I get embarrassed at times because I think I shouldn't be too concerned, but then, I know it's a big deal. To me, anyway.
Having that site to go to allowed me to see that I'm very normal in my concerns, actions and reactions. For instance, I have this overwhelming urge to "nest" like I did when I was at the end of my pregnancy. I want to be sure that everything is in order and perfect for when I come home. Then I read on the forum how many women who are waiting for their surgery date to approach (we're known as "ladies in waiting") have the same inclination going on. I didn't feel silly anymore.
I think the most difficult phase in all of this is with my hubby. He's been fantastic, but always wants to "fix" things. (As most of you men out there do.) Sometimes, I just need to vent or vocalize my concerns, without being fixed. Sometimes, I just need to be listened too. I guess it's just hard for my husband to see me going through all of this stuff. All of the procedures, the poking and the prodding, the tests, waiting for the results of the tests, etc. It's all a bit much. I know I'd feel really bad for him it it were he who was going through so much, and would want to make it all better as well. But, soon, it will be over and I will be on the mend. Can't wait!
So, now I re-organize my closets, make my lists, plan our meals, etc. while I wait. And, the waiting is the worst part of the deal.
If you know of a lady facing a hysterectomy, or maybe one who has already had the procedure and maybe feels alone, please let her know of the "Hyster Sisters" website. It will do her a world of good.
xoxo CJ
Shoe Mood:
Ahhhhh! That's more like it.
Zsa Zsa would be so proud!
Well, I sure have a lot of catching up to do. I must say that I really appreciate you all being so patient with my slacking posts. I'm going to work very hard to get back to twice weekly, and weave some more writing stuff into them when I've not much to say about health stuff.
Also, the love and support that has been shown to me during this time has blessed me and my family so much! I can't begin to tell you what it means to me. The encouragement and prayers are lifting my spirits and I feel enveloped by your thoughts. Thank you.
Hubby and I had our "tween" camp this past week. So, we had our hands full for several days. Other than that, it's just been fatigue that has been driving me crazy! It's been hard to string coherent thoughts together. In other words, I've been too tired to think!
But, think I must! Tee! Hee!
I met with my Oncologist on June 22nd. We had a very good appointment. (Two and a half hours long!) Along the way, I've been fortunate enough to have been placed with the best of the best when it comes to my medical needs. My Oncologist is no exception. Thank God!
He said there may be the possibility that the cancer spot might have been removed during the D&C! If not, he feels certain he will get everything when I have the surgery. (No pun intended! We all know he'll get EVERYTHING!) Anyhoo, that was very reassuring.
He did say that he doesn't believe that the severe endometriosis and the uterine cancer is related in any way. So, we're trying to take care of two separate issues with this surgery. My procedure is scheduled for July 21st.
I'm much better than I was. I floated around in numbness for a while. Then I had a mini-meltdown. Nothing horrible, just slightly neurotic. Had to have hubby talk me down off the ledge. (Figuratively speaking, of course!) But, after meeting with my oncologist, I feel a lot better. Especially since I'm a candidate for the DaVinci Robotic surgery. My recovery time will be cut in half! I'll only have one night in the hospital, and I'll be able to drive once I'm off narcs. (Just won't be able to lift anything over 5-10 lbs for a while.)
There's something to say about fighting the unknown. It's daunting and scary. Your mind works over-time filling itself with "what-if's" and "how come's" and "why now's?" Although, I never asked "why me?" I'm not one to feel sorry for myself, I guess. I just wanted to be sure that everyone else would be ok, and that everything was in order so that I wouldn't have a bunch of "mess" to clean up when I've recovered. It got overwhelming as we loomed closer and closer to my recovery taking place at the beginning of the school year. But, now that I'm having the DaVinci method, I'll be fully recovered by the time we're back at school. That, alone, alleviated a whole lot of stress for me. And, just being able to sit and talk with my doc helped beyond measure. It's a very good thing to have a doctor who listens. I'm blessed.
So, now I'm getting my duckies in a row, making sure that everything and everyone is taken care of while I recover. I feel like it's the calm before the storm.
I read the most beautiful quote a few weeks ago that served to bless my spirit and calm my soul. I'm not sure where it came from or who wrote it (it may be in a song). But, it was so beautiful, non-the-less.
"Life is not about trying to get through the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain."
My youngest has already learned this lesson. I wish I were more like her!
XOXO CJ
Shoe Mood:
I'm ready to join her!
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Love this and am feeling inspired to break my new cork board out of its plastic wrapping....I bought it over a year ago! (Yikes!)
I'm sooooooooooo glad you're back!!
Thanks, Sweetie! You need to pull it out and do some creative vision casting!
xoxo, CJ
P.S. I'm glad I'm back, as well. ;-)