Saturday, November 09, 2013


Afternoon my lovelies.

Time to crank out a blog and then get to writing.

I've pondered over a question asked at the Author Panel I went to last Saturday.
How do I concentrate with OCD?  How do I shut everything else out and write?

Not easy.

First of all, I've been to a therapist/counselor.  I've not been properly diagnosed, but I'm most certainly OCD.
Sometimes it's worse than others.  Whether I have to check the lock my magic number of times or check my alarm the same number.
But thankfully, it doesn't rule my life.

Blocking out everything to write is difficult enough.  But it's a real bitch when I have to make sure that certain items are where they always are.  That I've done everything else that needs to be done.  When I have my water nearby and my ear buds in so I can concentrate ONLY on the story or stories.

This five-book series requires me to listen to my Writing playlist on iTunes which consists of beautiful music sans words or Enya-type or Celtic Woman songs.
Because it fills in the holes I need filled to work on the writing.
I need the background noise so that other things don't bother me.  My phone is on "Do Not Disturb".  I will give the death glare to any who bother me when I'm working in the zone.  And God forbid you interrupt.
While I'm a fairly nice person on any given day, I am a snarling bear woke from its hibernation when jacked with in the middle of a nice writing jag.
Ear buds in.  Writing on.  Woe to anyone who doesn't respect that.
And I mean WOE.

Food has been consumed.  Water sits to the left of my laptop.  iTunes is about to be fired up and put on repeat.

Shall we begin?

Sunday, November 03, 2013

To dream the impossible dream

It's scary, isn't it?
Putting yourself out there.  Leaving yourself open to criticism and unkind words.  Cutting yourself open and leaving bits of yourself exposed.
Terrifying is probably more appropriate.

I'm reminded of that ol' "sticks and stones" rhyme reiterating that physically we can be hurt, but words won't harm.
That would be a bunch of bullshit.

Ever been called stupid?  Worthless?  Ugly?  Fat?  Skinny?
Ever had something you've been beyond proud of decimated by words?

Take that in.
Those who utter those words have probably had them thrown at them more than a few times.
And while there is no excuse for all that hatefulness...I tend to feel bad for them.
There lives must be miserable.

When I spoke yesterday at the Author Panel, it really hit home for me that there are a lot of people scared to put themselves out there.  They want to write, but they are scared, unsure, and fragile.

Some people will love your work.  Some people will hate it.  Some people will cherish it.  Some people wouldn't stop to wipe their ass with it.

So fucking what?
Think about that for a minute.
So what?

If you tamp down that part of you that wants to create, then you are EXISTING, my friends.  You are not living.  You are suffocating such a beautiful part of yourself out of FEAR.
And that's unacceptable.

Write that book.  Paint that picture.  Sculpt that statue.

LOVE your creativity and embrace it tightly.  And then set it free into the world.  Give it wings to fly and enough courage to stand on its own.
Not everyone has the strength.
But you're doing yourself a disservice if you're not even trying.