Thanksgiving Part 3

I've often wondered why I tackled becoming a writer. Honestly, I haven't got the fabulous educational background of many of the writers I admire. Nope. I didn't go to Yale or Harvard. In my life before I became I writer, I didn't hold a job as a lawyer, doctor, anthropologist, television anchor or other some such type of illustrious career. Nope. I was lucky to get my degree in elementary education by the time I was 27. I worked a few years in radio and television and private education, but I never built a career.

I learned only two things about myself during the few years I dealt with corporate America: I hate office politics and I hate wearing pantyhose to work.

Any rate, after a few years of trying to climb the corporate ladder and bumping my head on a very low ceiling, I had a baby and I decided busting my stockings to get a promotion wasn't as eternal as raising a beautiful child. I've never regretted the decision.

When she entered the 4th grade, I rediscovered my earlier passion for writing. And that's what I've been mucking around doing ever since I dusted off my first attempts at writing a novel. I've learned a lot about writing and craft from my writing comrades, RWA, my writing chapters, more books than I care to admit I own and on-line workshops.

But the doubts and the questioning never leave me. Who am I to take on this task when I have such a muddled background? Do the words "I'm not worthy" ever cross your mind? They cross mine. They jump around my brain whenever I learn about that writer's degree in literature, or her illustrious career in technology and the writer who once wrote speeches for the President. Okay? Now that's a big scary deal for me.

So why do I even attempt this crazy adventure? I haven't got a Masters degree in anything, I haven't worked in a real job since 1994, and I didn't grow up in a family that bothered to nurture my talents. Nope. I had to fight for every success I had and that's where the chutzpah to write lives. My scrappiness.

I learned a lot about life in a different college: the college of hard knocks and streetwise living. I've been on my own since I was 16 years old. I fought to get my GED and, after my DH married me, I taught myself the SAT with a big book of tests. I entered university, got scholarships and busted my buns to finish my degree in less than 4 years (my DH had married me for my, uh, cooking ability, not my education as I had none to speak of other than the GED).

I may not have any experience tackling corporate giants or winning cases in the courtroom, but I know how to flip a burger, pump gas, make beds, clean hotel rooms, assist the elderly and nurture children. I can type faster than most secretaries. I've knocked back beer in an Ice Shack in Houston, and I've hobnobbed with Nobel Prize winners while sipping Kir Royale. I've played pool with biker chicks, and I've hosted dinner parties for distinguished scientists. I've sat in a bar outside of Phoenix and chatted with the locals about the humidity. I've canoed down the Dordogne and toured castles. I've slept in a pup tent next to the Redwoods. I've flown first class to Europe.

I've had nothing. I've experienced everything.

When I was eighteen, if you opened my fridge, you'd find a large 7-11 Slushy and a potato. I've dated guys because they paid for my dinner and I was hungry. I've eaten 8 course meals in Sarlat, France. I've known extreme loneliness, the kind where I've considered rushing off a balcony of a twentieth floor high rise because who would care if I was gone? I've known extreme joy, the kind where I've wanted to bottle the bubbling happiness and cork it so I can pop it open, and let it stream over me when I am sad again.

Today I am thankful for my life. For all of it. For the ugly chunks of my childhood, for the brief glimmers of joy even then. I mine the coals of hurt, pain, frustration, anger and bitterness for my stories. I  open the shell surrounding my heart and draw out pearls of ecstasy to endow my characters with abiding joy.

I'm grateful for the natural talents and intelligence given to me, but I am actually more thankful for being forced to live in circumstances that brought me to my knees, humbled. I am grateful because I believe my street education, and my ability to transcend that background, have given me an opportunity to give back the greatest gift I've received: HOPE.

My stories are about two people finding each other and discovering home. Today I'm grateful I found my hero. Today I'm grateful we created our own safe place to fall.

Writing Interuptus

There comes a time in every mom's life where writing takes a second seat: the school year drawing to a close. More things are happening now than ever. My DD is in two recitals, voice and dance, this upcoming weekend. Driving all over hill and dale for her to get to the venues for rehearsals and the subsequent recitals. She's also in a Powder Puff football game on Friday. And I just dropped everything to attend her awards ceremony at her school (she got an all A certificate and was disappointed she didn't get in the top 10 GPA group--well--wonder where she got that from? I understand her frustration and disappointment--but she'll bear up she always does -- learned from the queen of loss to just keep on pluggin' along).

Meanwhile, back at the writing ranch, I am preparing for the Georgia Romance Writers Maggies contest. It's printed out, and ready to copy and mail. But I have to pick up DD for a contact lens appointment at the eye doctor at 11:30AM and then lunch afterward (to share how much I know it truly sucks to be "close but no cigar" in life and bolster her spirits). Then we'll copy the Maggie entry together and I'll haul her back to school. 

I also spent time today finding a love scene for the Reveal Your Inner Vixen contest run by the Maryland Romance Writers Chapter. I will be entering that one via email so that's easier. I will prep that one up and revise it for my own revision as well as send it in by end of the week.

But meanwhile I have the chimney appointment--oops--same time as planned lunch. Well, we'll pick up lunch and eat at home and then I'll bring my DD back to school so she can sing and practice for Powder Puff. 

Thursday I have to take DD to dance and then to voice rehearsal. Friday she has voice and dance rehearsal... Saturday more of the same... Sunday more of the same...

Always something happening during the last two weeks of school and the events always break up my day causing writing interuptus.

I must learn to surrender to this madness and just let it ride.

ARGH!! Day Two

Well I had plans but they went to heck in a handbasket when I discovered issues with water in my water meter wells. Darn it!! Phone call interuptus and constant long distance nagging re: issue interfered all afternoon with my writing. Argh!

Today I read through my daughter's DC itinerary and found it to be rather ambitious considering the masses of humanity they will have to battle to get into each venue. The chaperones and tour company have NO CLUE what they are getting ready to drive into. I do, and I am worried. After long discussions about it with a friend in Vienna, VA, I wrote an email to the coach in charge and asked if they could scale back some of their plans to maximize the experience.

Another time buster ARGH!!

Now I still have to work out and get dressed and then I get to write.... and then I get to pick DH up from the airport and go to the school to drop of medication information. And then do I get to write again?

I hope so!!

School Starts on the 6th!

Well I was all ready to hit the book revision HARD on Monday, the fifth, after my darling daughter headed back to school. Haha... not. Apparently, our school district heads back on Tuesday! And I lose Friday because we have to head north for an orthodontist appointment. Blah!!

I was bummed out. But then I decided that just because she was "off" didn't mean that I wasn't working. So I informed her that I would be writing on Monday as planned. I have a lot I want to accomplish in 2009 and dilly dallying won't help me. She is fine with that as she would just as soon sleep than anything. So, I will write in the morning for a good three hours and then be a mom in the afternoon.

I can't believe we are almost in 2009. As I look over my spread sheet of the goals and tasks for my family and myself for 2008, I am blown away by how much I've accomplished. On the second, I am sitting down and working out those goals again for the family and myself. It's an interesting exercise and fun to check off everything on the lists as the months go by!