Posts Tagged ‘Writing’
I’ve been thinking about how to share this story with you. This morning, I woke up inspired to just share the whole thing and let you sift through the various ins and outs. Those of you who email me seems to like my long, rambling stories the most so here we go. I’ve written dribs and drabs of this… here’s the whole thing. Here’s to dreams!
When I was a senior in high school, I took a Creative Writing class with Mr. Bob Reed at R.L. Paschal High School in Fort Worth, Texas. For those of you who don’t know Ft. Worth, Paschal is a few blocks from Texas Christian University and our school colors were purple and white, just like TCU. Paschal is one of the oldest high schools in Fort Worth and it is situated in a historical area full of beautiful tudor-style, modern and traditional houses. I love the area because there are so much mature landscaping, including many old oak trees.
My senior year, I was dating a crazy guy…I broke up with him, but he was stalking me. So, the last six weeks of my senior year, I packed everything up, transferred to a school in Abilene, Texas (where I was born and also where my step dad’s parents lived) to finish the year.
Now, way back then, I won’t lie to you. I was all about working (as in J.O.B.), not school work. I was relentlessly bored in school and showed up just enough to play tennis, do my extracurricular activities and take the tests so I could stay in Honor Society.
Mr. Reed gave me an ultimatum. I had already missed entering my short story in the Tarrant County Junior College writing contest. Apparently Mr. Reed thought my short story, Mary Jane, which was about a little country tom girl who was in ‘like’ with her little friend, would be a contender. One of my classmates won first place in that contest I had not even entered. He told me he would drop my grade a letter if I didn’t enter my story in the next one – the TCU writing contest.
At 4:56 pm, the day it was due by 5:00 pm, I ran up the front sidewalk as fast as I could hoping I could still get the entry in. I didn’t care about the contest, I just wanted to work, I wanted to be free and do my own thing and I just wanted to get on to college. I was already going to junior college part-time. Oh, and I needed to get packed to try to get away from Mr. Stalker! I had enough to do without worrying about some contest.
I ended up running into a very helpful person who pointed me to the right office and I slid the envelope under the door just in time (literally).
I was in school in Abilene when I received a package letting me know that I had won first place. My story was printed in the newsletter with the other winners. I don’t even think I cared at the time because my attention was so far out into the future. I certainly wasn’t present. Isn’t life ironic?
When I graduated from high school, I came back to graduation ceremonies and could breathe a sign of relief because my crazy boyfriend enlisted in the Army and was shipped off. Good-bye Mr. Stalker!
I am not sure I even took the time to acknowledge my writing, my love of writing or even consider I might be able to do something in writing. For me, freedom meant money and the sooner I had more money, the faster I could get to the freedom I so desperately desired.
I initially enrolled in school for business (that’s where the money is, right?), and dabbled in the idea of journalism, but quickly rejected it once I found out how much journalists make. Ditto for teaching, which I thought would be so fun to teach kids. Ah, to go back and know what I know now!
I made my mark in business, got two degrees along the way, created a very successful consulting practice, but something still was off. True, I have been writing most of my business career – and helping many people make a lot of money with my writing – from proposals that sell, to newsletters that connect businesses to businesses, to sales letters with huge returns, to reports that convey a unique message that speaks to the heart – I’ve been writing.
Then, one day, this Queen of Dreams character came along. She was fun, she was spunky, she was me before I started focusing on the world and making my way in it! About two years after this cartoon came to mind, I received a TCU Continuing Education catalog in the mail. I found it interesting as I had never received one before nor have I received on since. I looked and there were some writing classes, and I felt pulled to attend two of them.
I signed up, sent in the check and waited for the day to arrive. When I drove to TCU (by the way, the area around TCU, which is known as TCU hill, is one of my favorite places in the world! I love Fort Worth), I felt different. I felt this amazing energy of magic in the air. When I drove through the campus, I looked over at the sidewalk where I had sprinted decades before hoping to save my grade.
The class was fun, but I knew I wasn’t there for the class. I had taken myself there to remember what I knew way back then. That I am a writer. That I love to write. That I am a talented writer. As I walked along the campus, I felt happy and alive. I felt a magical electricity in the air. It seemed to whisper, You can do this.
Many other books and movies echoed that idea to my heart repeatedly. It is only in hindsight that I can see them so clearly. Movies such as Miss Potter held me entranced in the idea of writing as an occupation. I understood what it meant to have a character talk to you. That’s what writers do. I seemed to be stumbling over writer after writer who dared to dream and, more importantly, write. Po Bronson showed up. He had lived in the maze and dared to write meaningful books on his own terms, in his own way.
At times, I felt pulled to attend a writers’ workshop the teacher mentioned during that TCU writing class. I didn’t go. I made excuses. There’s a deafening silence that your heart makes when it quits whispering. I noticed the silence. The quiet reserve of, “I’ll wait for you.”
In the meantime, I published two books – books I wrote as much for myself as for others; wrote two others and authored more articles, blog entries and other business writings than I can even keep track of. I also learned how to love myself, how to acknowledge myself without wincing inside, how to be vulnerable without withering within and how to compassionately love others as myself. It’s been a busy time of growth and introspection. I’ve been growing into myself.
I realize now, two years ago, despite all of the outward encouragement (from Jan, my book publishing consultant “You have something really special,” from many publishers who requested my manuscript, from reviewers who loved my book, the reminder of the TCU award and the others I won in school, and so many more it would be quite embarrassing to list them!) that I simply didn’t feel I had the goods. What was I waiting for?
I have known for a long time we can’t ‘give’ to someone what must come from within. For me, I had to decide to make the trek from my head to my heart. I had to leap and have faith the net would appear.
And, so I have.
I can share with you that your big dream will feel really, really, possibly humongously big! It doesn’t feel like an accomplishment goal does, which, for me, feels like getting in a car and driving to a destination. In that place, I feel I can never rest. It’s always go, go, go. The next thing, the next thing, it’s never ending. It’s exhausting to me.
For me, the waking dream feels big, wide, lush like a valley. It feels like a place you go to live in, not a place you visit before rushing off to another destination (goal). It feels like coming home. It feels magical. It feels like everything you will create is already done. It has the feeling I’ve been searching for my entire life – a place where I can rest and know I’m just where I’m supposed to be.
I recently read an article about a woman who wrote about her experience with this. She is a writer, and as soon as she published her first novel, she knew it wasn’t ‘home.’ It took her NINE books before she found her valley. Now, she is happily creating from that place. I read that, and thought, ‘That’s just how life is… we create as we go and as we create, we get clearer and clearer, fine-tuning along the way.’
The most important thing is to let your heart roam so it can guide you home.
So, what’s your juicy dream? The one that you haven’t let see the light of day?
What? The Queen of Dreams is saying something new here? Follow your dream. That’s not new!
But it really is. For me!
When I spoke at the Snap Out of It Conference a few months ago, I enjoyed it so much because I really showed up as ‘me’ in my spirit… that girl who I used to be at six who was carefree, who talked to and walked in nature, who loved to make people laugh and who loved to be creative. That girl is the girl who also dreamt of writing books for children.
That day, I said to the audience, “I want to know what your real dream is. You know, the one that is in the back of your heart that you don’t tell anyone! I want to hear about that one!”
As I said it to the women in the audience that day, I must have been listening, too. Ever since then, my heart has been whispering to write. To go to writer’s groups that I wanted to attend TWO YEARS ago! That I didn’t dare – until I was ready!
Way back when (I mean, waaaaaay back when – lol) I was a little girl, my cherished idol was Judy Blume. I would read and reread her books even though I was really too young for them. I have always seemed to be ahead of my age, and read, Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret when I was six! I remember going to the library asking the librarian how I could find out who Judy Blume was – Who is she? I wanted to know. Who wrote this book? I wanted to know. How can I do this too? I wanted to know.
Now, as a 40-something woman I look back at that and wonder why I wanted to know. That is so not a six-year-old thing to do, you know. I also remember saying, “I’m a writer. I’m a writer just like Judy Blume!” around the same age as I sat on the sidewalk out in front of our military housing, typhoon-resistant house when we lived in Guam. Only the breeze heard my proclamation.
Now, nearly 36 years after that moment, I’ve decided to revisit my childhood dream of writing for children. Nearly 36 years later, I would find out that I am a lot like Judy in that she had a very personal relationship with God, too. And, the book that spoke to my heart was the first book she wrote from the heart. Wow! As Samuel Taylor Coleridge says, “What comes from the heart goes to the heart.” I guess so!
Did the Earth stand still when I decided to let the dream out of my heart? Hardly. But something did happen to me. Something that is so hard to explain, and yet something really, really big for me. Does this mean I’ll quit writing for adults? Hardly. I already am working on two more books in the Queen of Dreams Quintessential Guides series.
For now, though, I want to see what will happen when I give this dream some attention.
What dream are you holding? What dream wants to leap out of you and into the world?
More tomorrow on my little journey… dreams part deux!
An Honorable Mention! Hey everyone, not sure if you are familiar with the boutique publisher, Skirt!, which is dedicated to women and topics they care about.
After writing my heartfelt Independence Day email to you, I serendipitously ended up at the Skirt! site and noticed they were having an essay Freedom Challenge. I copied and pasted what I wrote for all of you, and just got an email saying that it earned an honorable mention.
Check out the other essays… the winner and runners up!
I haven’t entered an actual writing contest since Mr. Reed, my creative writing teacher in high school, threatened to fail me if I didn’t enter my short story in the TCU writing contest for high school students! Though I won first place, it has taken many years to actually believe that writing what I want to write can be a significant part of my life. Perhaps this is why that essay just flew right out of my heart. I believe I can live my own dream life now at a level that is so palpable it is hard to describe. With that belief, the prison door has opened and I’ve walked right on out!Whatever your dream…you can live it and know what it truly means to be free – mind, body and spirit! 
Here’s my essay… in case you missed it in email.
To Be Truly Free, Let Freedom Ring!
The Stars and Stripes, American patriotism, Betsy Ross, the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence…all hold a dear place in my heart, and have for nearly four decades. The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays
I never was quite sure why before. But, now I believe I have an idea of what it is that makes me so indescribably happy when I think of this country and what it stands for.
I realize that in our country many of us have never gone without water, most of us take for granted that we can walk down the street without fear and certainly, we aren’t concerned about dying for speaking our truth. We have so much freedom; we are literally drowning in a gift we can barely recognize. Instead, many of us who have grown up in this amazing country have switched to another type of oppression: self-imposed oppression. In this, one can’t live freely because the constraints are self-directed and built within the chamber of the mind, written on the heart with fear, apathy and self-loathing.
For many years, I read about and studied immigrants who came to our country with their hearts open and their minds full of possibility of what America has to offer them. They do not know anything other than what the dream has told them is possible… You can create anything in the land of opportunity. There’s this place called America where anything is possible! You only have to be willing to work and you can have anything you dream of.
They board boats and airplanes by the millions to come to experience freedom and to be truly free. They come to enjoy freedom of creative power; the type of freedom Americans have been born into and are not even aware of because we are too busy building our own internal prisons!
These immigrants sacrificed everything they have ever known – comfort of family living nearby, money saved over a lifetime, a network of colleagues and friends – to experience the American Dream in the Land of Opportunity. They still believe in the dream America has to offer. Many create fortunes in record time as they are not handicapped by our Americanized handicapped thinking and built-in limitations. They literally walk into our country free in body, mind and spirit to create and be ANYTHING they dream of.
I have felt intimately connected to this country and its forefathers…men who were willing to die for freedom. My highest value is feeling free and feeling good. Freedom is so important to me that every moment that feels constrained feels like an eternity spent in prison. I cannot imagine the strength or conviction it took for Nelson Mandela to make peace with his incarceration. Freedom is a feeling, state of mind and knowing all wrapped up in the expansiveness of possibility.
Our country’s visionaries were willing to give their lives to what they believed was true. They were willing to take action on what they dreamed of for themselves, their families and future generations. I often imagine what it must have been like for them. There was NOTHING here waiting for them. They would come to this land with nothing but their dream in hand and a few supplies for the journey ahead. Just like immigrants today. What appeared to be nothing was a land full of everything they would ever need for their dream. And, so much more than they could have ever imagined when they first set forth with only a vision in hand.
‘What must that have been like? What were they thinking as they dove into the unknown,’ I have wondered since I was a little girl. In the past, I often focused on how hard it must have been. I would think, ‘Oh, I’m so lucky to be here in my lifetime.’ I’ve been grateful for their vision and our country, and yet I thought, ‘Oh, I could never have done what they did. How courageous they were!’
Today, with a newfound sense of freedom in my heart that has come with my own visionary dream, I imagine that they were excited. I imagine that they weren’t focusing on the hard work. I have the sense that they enjoyed the journey of following their dream – no matter where the journey took them. Today, I KNOW they were ALIVE in every part of their beings with a dream that was ablaze in their hearts. Just like immigrants today. Just like I am today.
Freedom is a gift that rings from within first, and flows out into the world to others who want to believe it exists, too. It is the sound a heart makes when it is in tune with the bell bearer’s dream. Some of us can’t hear the bell ring anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t ring for those who have already responded to its call. Our forefathers rang a bell 234 years ago that can still be heard around the world in the hearts of immigrants who want to believe anything is possible.
To be truly free, our hearts, minds and bodies must move and love as one. That’s when we can hear the call of our heart, which delivers us peacefully to the freedom that has always been there waiting for us.
I have so many photos, I had to cut these in half! So, I’m going to put these in BEFORE the last post, so if it looks odd. That’s why. Since I’m lucky enough to work from home, I create in many places. I have a workshop in the garage where I paint in the mornings and sometimes at night.
I wanted the energy of glass around me so I got this entertainment center (on the right) on Craig’s List for just $75. Mark cringed and started calling me Tubbs (as in Miami Vice – Crockett and Tubbs). He wouldn’t load it into the Tahoe until I PROMISED him it would NEVER come into the house. Is that not hysterical??? It was made in France and I love it because I can put all of my crafty supplies in it and then shut the doors!
I have a big dining room table I use for art projects, and it’s nice to be able to watch Chance and Rico (sometimes Mark) from here when I’m painting or whipping up some project. That string hanging down is what I clip projects to so they can dry.
I love that I can just leave my things out to dry. This is my latest creation… a canvas with 12 owls on it. Can you see the Uncle Sam and Miss Liberty in the back? My mom made those YEARS ago. That’s what I see when I am standing at my kitchen window. I quit putting them out front for others to see and put them in the back so I could see them. I have a wreath in the front for everyone else.
I leave my easel up and paint whatever comes to me. That’s Chance’s tiki bar that his grandpa built for him to the right. Mark, Chance and Ashley (our niece) are playing basketball as I take photos.
Flea market finds from a couple of weeks ago – trip to Canton with Mark and mom.
I got all of this, including the things above and a bunch of bottles for $2.50! Amazingly sweet deals!
I boxed up all of my books recently…I just had to have my art supplies INSIDE and all the INFORMATION had to be filed. These show my interests… I love autobiographies, psychology, spirituality, writing and inspiration. All of my art books are inside now. I’m in an extremely creative time in my life – more than ever.
I like to put things away so I can find them easily. I haven’t always been this organized. I often wonder how people with a Zillion stamps stay organized… I see great examples in WWC…my left drawer of my desk is FULL of stamps and stamp pads. I am wondering how I will keep things from going out of control!
Last fall, I felt I HAD to have a creative space where I could just leave everything out. This is the result. I enjoy being here and I just got a record player-iPod player so I can play cool music (I have a CD player now, but it only plays one CD and it’s on top of the entertainment center so it’s hard to reach, well, you get the drift!)
Here’s my THIRD creative space…I love to meditate in the garden. These are pics before I cleaned for the season…
Backyard nirvana… my secret garden. Sometimes I take naps out here in the summer. We face east/west so in the early afternoon, it’s quite nice out here even in Texas. I love wind chimes…tons of them everywhere!
My garden angel, Clementine, another one of mom’s creations… see the roses behind her? There’s about 12 other bushes that run along the fence by our pool…they bloom the entire spring, summer and fall. How inspiring!
I have angels everywhere…love the vintage candle holder. I keep saying I’m going to refinish it, but I love the rusty look. This is before the season and before flowers… but still so peaceful.
This is by my computer… I couldn’t agree more.
I hope you enjoyed touring my creative space. I’m very grateful to have many creative spaces to spend time in! I can’t wait to see everyone else’s creative spaces, too!
Ken Follett is a British author that many of you many have heard about if you regularly watch Oprah. His book, Pillars of the Earth, has broken all kinds of records, has mapped the world and nearly every country.
But it wasn’t always this way.
Ken began writing novels in his 20s. He wrote his first one because his car broke down and he needed the cash. As a journalist, he was used to writing fast, so completing a novel in short order was easy enough – and, he discovered, easy money too. Soon enough, he found himself churning out one suspense thriller after another at a nice clip of one a year, which, by the way, is what is expected from someone who is doing well in the world of writing – find something and do it forever, and whatever you do – don’t veer off the path paved with gold.
But his heart called him in another direction.
When Ken was in his mid 20s, his heart led him to begin reading a book written by someone else who was passionate about architecture – Nikolaus Pevsner. As he read, he could feel the passion Nikolaus wrote with about how buildings have life – look! Shortly after starting that book, Ken found himself on assignment in another city with a long wait for a train back. He says he’ll never forget what he did during that wait. Remembering the passion with which Nikolaus wrote about gothic architecture, Ken decided to take time as he waited to visit Peterborough Cathedral. He describes that visit as "one of those moments."
Soon, the passion, the energy, the story of these churches began to call to his heart. He would travel England, spending two days at a time with these beauties. He says most people take an afternoon, some take a day, but he prefers "two days." He began to outline a story about cathedrals. He sent it in to his publisher, and his publisher suggested that he unite his ‘tapestry’ with a series of melodramas.
But Ken knew he didn’t have this in him at the time. So, he put the book aside and decided to use his passionate energy for another book, The Eye of the Needle, which became his first bestseller.
Ken began to become enamored with medieval life, architecture, the story of the people who were poor, who did not know the mathematics required to build these giant architectural marvels. His heart yearned for more, but book after book left him void of the passion he sought. Before giving up, though, his heart connected him to another passionate heart – Jean Gimpel. Author of The Cathedral Builders. Soon, Ken’s mind, heart and imagination were alive in inspiration. Jean, it turned out, got tired of waiting for this book and wrote it himself.
Ken picked up that outline and few chapters he wrote years earlier and began writing. He also went to find Jean Gimpel, who inspired him a decade earlier, and found that the two lived on the same street.
When his heart called out to pick up the book he started 10 years earlier, to most people, Ken was at the pinnacle of success – at least financially. Why on earth would he ‘risk’ everything on a book that was way out of his league (literarily) and his market’s taste (thriller)? Who would do that?
Ken Follett did. He writes that it was the hardest book he ever wrote. He dedicated himself to it seven days a week for three and a half years. He felt it was special. A gift of sorts though his humble nature would not make it sound so grand.
When it was released, the publishers all sold the books they wanted to, and there was little fanfare. No awards, no outstanding sales. And Ken began to think that maybe he had been wrong about writing something ‘special.’
But then there was a German publisher who adored the book. Who had been dreaming of a novel written about cathedrals. Who had been asking other writer to write this book. Those of you who know Ken’s books know that Germany is probably not a big country for sales of his books since he writes about Nazis. However, this publisher promoted this book in a way that no others did.
Then something magical happened.
Soon, Ken’s heart would go out around the world to ignite other hearts in a passionate dance as the flame of Nikolaus’s heart ignited Ken’s originally with the passion, the verve of architecture and Jean’s passion for the people who built the cathedrals.
His little church book began to sell more and more and more books – more than his other best sellers – and finally did prove that he had indeed written something ‘special,’ something that touches the heart of others. Then, of course, we all know what happened… Oprah put it on her list, and well…
That is the gift of passion – the same passion that lives inside of you too.
What would you do today if you were fearless? What passion is calling to your heart?
Lesson’s from Ken’s Path
Passion begets success… even though he put Pillars of the Earth aside, his next novel written in that expansive, passionate energy became his FIRST bestseller
Your heart takes you where you need to go … your job is to listen. First, Nikolaus, then the train delay offered him the chance to go look at the cathedral – he could have said, no, I’ll sit here and read a book!
Your heart offers you traveling companions … books, authors, helpers, publishers who tell the truth, dreamers who have been dreaming of you, other passionate hearts
Believe in your passion, inspiration, your heart … so many times he was told this book was career suicide, well-intentioned friends urged him to ‘stick with what works,’ but he just couldn’t walk away from these people who spoke to his heart from centuries away
Love is a universal language … One heart knows the language of another heart…trust that language
