It’s taken me a long time to get to the place where I believe in myself. I am always my worst enemy and my toughest critic. In the past, I have allowed myself to procrastinate- push things off for another day, a time when life was less complicated. If I keep waiting for life to get less complicated before I follow my dream I will be waiting forever.

My compromise is to chip away at my dream, once step at a time.

Step 1: Complete a novel
Step 2: Allow somone else to read it without passing out
Step 3: Complete Editing
Step 4: Select Agents to send it to
Step 5: Perfect my query letter and actually send it out- again and again and again until I’ve sent it to every agent that might like it
Step 6: If I don’t get the response I want, accept it and move on- There are so many stories and characters in my head and on my computer that eventually I will write something worthy of being published.

I just have to chip away at it one step at a time.

The toughest thing for me has been the opening chapter. I think I might finally have something I can live with. Suggestions????

Chapter 1

Every part of me is itching for a change. I can feel it down to the marrow of my bones- this restlessness. The altitude of Aspen suffocates me with each breath of icy crispness that makes its way into my lungs. The snow and I aren’t exactly friends- it’s far past time for us to part ways. But, as usual, I have to wait for a sign. I know in my soul that a change is coming, but no external signs have been revealed for the rest of the world to see. Every clue or glimpse into my future will need to be recorded; the newly highlighted pathway must be followed.

I haven’t felt this restless, this sure of change since leaving Carly. Just bringing that word- her name into my train of thoughts brings it all back- the contempt, the anger, the abandonment. Although I haven’t thought about her in a while, it doesn’t take long for her residual negativity to sweep back in and temporarily suck away what little self-worth I was able to take with me when I walked away from her. The memory of her words reverberates through my mind, pierce my soul and make their way clean through to the other side.

“Keely Grant, you are no daughter of mine.”

Mothers are supposed to love and protect their daughters, but mine went out of her way to let me know that I wasn’t worthy of being loved. As a child she convinced me that I possessed an evil she was certain had wormed its way into me and rotted my soul. I’m pretty sure she was just crazy.

I tried to get through to the self absorbed witch of a woman I was unfortunate enough to call mother when allowed to acknowledge that familial relationship, but those efforts were dead in the water. Despite the way she treated me, the name calling, threats and bruises, I relentlessly tried to penetrate through the crazy that consumed her.That is, until the time came when I knew it was ok to let go. I can still feel the tips of my toes tingled in anticipation of freedom. My body will always remember that ache for the physical release- the pent up emotions I wasn’t allowed to express in her presence. My body had always craved physical activity- running preferably. It still does.

It was a long time coming. But eventually, I did something for myself. Gave in to that pure physical need, and walked away.

Away from her.

Away from that life.

I walked until the heat from the highway cement had burned through the rubber soles of my sneakers. Twelve hours of walking left my body screaming in agony. My mind, however, was steady, my thinking confident. I wasn’t worried or nervous that help would never come. I knew that someone would stop at my outstretched thumb. I had already seen it happen.

But, I often find myself working backwards. Whether it be with editing or working on something new. I seem to get the most out of writing when I start at the end and work my way to the beginning. Before I start writing, my main character(s) have already shown me what kind of obstacle they will face, and how they would like their story to end. It’s how they get to their ending that is usally the hardest part for me to write.

I was recently plauged by a long and horrible drought (writers block). The drought is indeed over, and words are once again flowing from the synapses in my brain and into my fingers on the keyboard. I am writing my story a little backwards, but if the beginning is anywhere near as good as the end, then it will be a story well told.

When that trust is broken… when the other party fails to do their duty to protect….everything changes.

Trust and forgiveness are the reoccurring themes of my wordsmithing these days. A few new characters have introduced themselves to me, and we are working out logistics. More details to come.

This is not a sweet goodbye of tears and happy memories sealed away in the coziest compartments of my mind. In fact 2010, I have some pretty nasty names for you. But instead of lashing out and blaming you for everything that went wrong, I will merely reflect upon your monthly happenings.

January- You sent the beautiful writing bug knocking on my door.

February- Although the shortest month, you brought the most heartache. Your 28 days sure know how to pack a big punch.

March- I sorted enough boxes of Girl Scout cookies for my lifetime.

April- Spirits and Spirits and a little therapy with some of the most amazing women I have ever known.

May- A Mother’s Day that reaffirmed my responsibility and privilege to protect my children.

June- 10 Year High School Class Reunion. I still can’t come up with the words to describe how awkward the whole evening made me feel.

July- I faced the reality that I had to trust a complete stranger with my babies.

August- My baby turned four……the possibility of never having another baby to call my own. : (

September/October- Enlightenment. Everything happens for a reason….a point in time when the path behind me is clear- it was preparation for the present and future.

Realizing that things are completely out of my control- the control was never mine to have. Accepting that I am going to lose something important to me. Understanding the difference between justice and revenge.

November- I began NANOWRIMO with gusto until my 7 year old broke her wrist and made me realize how vulnerable she still is. Went to confession for the first time in 14 years.

December- The first Christmas in 18 years I haven’t sang at mass at the church I used to call my own. It didn’t feel like Christmas without it.

So Good Riddance to you, vile 2010! You left me with too many excuses to binge on chocolate, slack off on my writing, and be consumed by anger and sadness. I dare 2011 to treat me as horribly as you. This time I am armed and waiting!

Today I was introduced to a great blog that I had not had the pleasure of running into as of yet. And it just so happens that there is a fabulous contest going on right now. I encourage you to check out not only the contest, but especially the blog. Looks like I found another great resource!

-Amy

A lot of my writing incorporates bits and pieces of people I have known throughout my life. Some may be good things, some are definitely negative aspects, but lend to a lesson learned.

Today I googled inspirational quotes and found one that really spoke to me.

“Music is what feelings sound like.”
- Author unknown

I have to cut this short because my darling Piper wants to play on the computer.

So….to those of you taking the time to read this, pray tell, what or who inspires you? What are inspired to do?

Peace out sauerkraut!

What have I been up to?

PROCRASTINATING!

I am a master of procrastination. I think I am so good at putting things off, that I could most definitely teach a class.

I have some pretty valid excuses as to why I surf the internet and stick my nose in someone else’s book instead of finishing my own. You see, there I go trying to justify things again. Just because the excuses are there doesn’t make it ok. They will always be there. I need to suck it up and move on.

Yet another leading lady has forced her way into my head, setting the stage for her story to be told. I love that there is so much inspiration to be found, and such strong characters choose me to write their story. It may sound crazy, but that is the way it feels. Inspiration comes in the blink of an eye, and a new character is born in the depths of my soul. They become a part of me, embedded in my soul for life.

Tomorrow I hope to make it back here and write about inspiration…where it comes from, what it feels like to me.

I promise to do my best to throw my excuses out the window on my drive home. They aren’t getting me anywhere.