Good Enough

Dearie,

Oops, I did it again. I played with my mind, got lost in the excitement. I over-scheduled! I didn’t plan or think things through. I am overwhelmed. ARGH!

I decided in my brief respite home, that oh, sure I can do this and that and the other thing. Oh! And yes, I can rearrange the house and function of not one, not two, but THREE rooms all at the same time. Sure, I am (imagine a cued audio of the theme song from the TV series “WonderWoman”) the spitting image of Lynda Carter, not.

I don’t have an invisible plane, and my body surely does NOT fit in that one piece outfit that always caused me concern as a girl that her boobies would fall out. Only a man would think that we could save the world and maintain both mammaries inside essentially a strapless swimsuit. Am I right?

I am being a horse again, and not the tail end of one either. I am doggedly trying to push through; achieve, succeed, do all those things that everyone tells you should be done and mastered in order to become the person you want to be. I am not there, yet.

Take today for instance, there is more on my list but not enough time to do them all. Now I have to prioritize. I hate prioritizing. Making judgements on what can be pushed off, requires a shift in perspective, mostly my own, about my self and what I can realistically do.

I can only do what I can do. And that is good enough. Something I have to learn to accept.

It is Good Enough
◆ To do things in bits and pieces
◆ To ask for help
◆ Evaluate the list periodically and take off those items that no longer hold importance
◆ Accept Change (Change in: Perspective, Goals, Priorities, Me)

It is what it is.
Just me,

J.

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My Amusement Park

Dearie,

I went through another fright filled book signing. This time on the East Coast. New area, knowing very few people, expectation was low, and I bombed. Yes, I did sell two books. Yes, I did talk to a few people. But— Basically, I bombed by the standard most writers and store owners expect.

To me? I survived. I am one event closer to this feeling normal. About midway through I realized all the little things I forgot to do in my preparation for the event. This is a significant growth mark! The next morning I realized all the things I could have done better. Doesn’t everyone? I refer to it with the analogy of a Monday morning quarterback, but call it a “Sunday Morning Signer,” moment. The next day stuff, normal review and improvement assessment, don’t go jumping to conclusions; this was not me beating myself up.

This was/is me doing something I find intimidating. Doing that scary thing on purpose, and before the scary thing was over, being able to step out of the fear and realize ways I had come into it wrong and ill prepared. Realizing what I needed to do, and making an attempt to correct while still in the back pocket of fear.

That change of perspective in the middle of the event— that is huge! Ginormous. That my dearie, that, is growth. That is the beginning of a new comfort zone.

Sure, I have since questioned myself over whether or not I should quit writing. Yep, it is like that badly painted, broken in need of repair horse on the merry-go-round of my writing journey; that particular saddle comes around with the rest of the perspectives every revolution. Only maybe, just maybe the part ordered has finally come in to fix that broken pony.

Just me,
J.

Union

Writers are scavengers of life.

Plucking emotion from made up fantasies while dealing with reality.

Writers use words as a timewarp to manipulate and control destinies of their inner wants and needs.

Setting the dark gnarly worm of self destruction into a blossoming butterfly of freedom from the demon of the Id.

Compensation comes in the form of the devoted reader who scours every word for entertainment, enjoyment and meaning;

Finding more than what they were looking for.

Finding for themselves a sanctuary between the words and nestling in for keeps.

We delve within our slumber of reality and live among dreams, we —the writer and the reader.

A match entwined.

27 January 2016

To Continued Education or Not?

Dear Diary,

A little poetry this week, hmm? Maybe, or maybe this was just a rant. Anyway, I will add it in the poetry section as soon as this entry is complete.

My currently muddled thought is about what to do about college. (Ignore my snicker in the background.) At the great age of middling, I am in a pickle over college. This was not on my great scheme of things, college. But, here it is.

Now, I am not going to fake either of us out with my imagined ego of importance. I am a reluctant writer at best, a bad writer most often, quite aware. Though, this college gig has been good for my ego and confidence.

I have learned gnarly things like looking stuff up because I can’t remember spelling, correct grammar, word usage, etc is absolutely fine. To write, I don’t have to have this genius know-it-all gene that remembers absolutely every rule. It is even ok to have weaknesses that you have to constantly go back and fix. The stress and berating of myself, this perspective, has relinquished itself to the “I used to do that pile” in a chunk.

Though I am not so fixated on that piece of paper that I have to have it. Sometimes, yes, I think it might be nice, for me. But, really it is about this. Putting words together to be read and making them easy to read and follow; entertaining even. It is about my betterment of writing in general that I seek, and unfortunately the place I have found most success and discovery to date has been within the bounds of higher education.

Not that writers groups haven’t done so as well. But there is a difference. Subtle though it is, yes. I appreciate both places of growth.

What to do, what to do?

Most likely, let it work itself out. Take this process one step at a time, not worrying too much or too far ahead.

J.

Stumbling

Dear Diary,

In case you hadn’t noticed, my planned posting of the Sinister edit is going slowly. I would love to blame going back to college full time, but that isn’t it. It is the writing that has me stumbling. Questions such as whether or not this or that sentence is necessary. If so should it go here, or somewhere else? How much detail is just enough?

If you are reading along, you know that we are stuck at leaving the hospital. Trying to decide how much and what information to write about TJ and Sam, I missed my own self imposed pub date. How best to tell what happens next. What will propel and make the story intriguing?

Hmm, this is the fine tuning of story telling that one has to explore during the process of going from rough draft to a polished story. Granted, this isn’t polished by a long shot, but it is getting there. Maybe trying a variety of options, and yes, writing some more rough drafts.

Writing is fun. Writing IS fun. Writing is FUN. WRITING IS FUN!
(If I tell myself that enough, it will sink in, right?)

J.

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