As I’m reading through everyone’s responses today, I can’t get over the similarities. Many people need a break from work, their own thoughts, life, winter, health issues, and several other valid, important reasons.
Some people don’t need a break from anything, and that’s wonderful. I’m glad you are in that elevated state of mind.
But I have to tell you. This morning, I was needing a break from every single thing that I could imagine. I had vertigo all night. I have an ear infection, which is getting worse, not better, after taking medication. I have an earlobe infection from an earring, (Ridiculous, since I’ve had this piercing for a long time…) spread to my lymph node. It is excruciatingly painful. My migraine is flared up and angry. I was in tears this morning, not knowing who to ask for help, feeling pretty desolate. I wasn’t sure how to shake it.
But I have work to do. An entire day of work. I had two sick days in the past two weeks, so no more sick days. I sat crying on my floor, thinking this is no way to live. Feeling sorry for myself. It takes a lot of strength to get up off the floor and dry your own tears. Some of the reason I did that was because my cat doesn’t like to see me sad. It upsets her, and she’s almost 16 and doesn’t need to be worried about a human. Another reason I got up was because it’s sunny today. And I remembered that the trees have buds on them. And it’s a clear blue sky and even though I feel alone, I’m not alone. As I read all of your words, I see I am not alone.
When Elmo asked how everybody was doing, and millions of people responded that they weren’t doing very well, I felt that. We all feel that. Millions of us.
Somehow, knowing you’re not alone in what you feel, is comforting.
I also fed the birds and the squirrels. The squirrels try to open the peanut jar if you leave it unattended, which is comical, but naughty.
I tried to find joy in the small things while feeling overwhelmed by the large things.
My doctor is going to give me a new prescription for my infection in my ear and my earlobe. I’ve gotten a little bit of work done. And I hope to go for a walk in the sun.
If you are hurting today, and you need a break, just remember you’re not alone – we’re feeling it too.
My perfect day, from start to finish, was the day I received the first batch of my book in the mail. A close second was doing book signings. The process of writing a novel took much longer than one day, of course, and it wasn’t perfect, but the feeling of handling a solid book that contained words I strung together, was unlike any other feeling previously or since. I could think of other ways to spend a perfect day, but none as profound as this for me, as a lover of words.
I started writing this book in 2003, and the idea formed over a fairly short span of time. I have been a tennis fan since the age of 15, and I am not going to tell you how many years ago that was, but it was approximately 102 years prior to 2003.
When I write, I see images. I see the scene playing out between the characters, where they are, what they’re wearing, their facial expressions, if the air is still or breezy, hot or chilly, and I see it start to finish just as a film or on a real in my brain.
The novel started with a small seed of an idea that turned into an image in my brain. The scene was the end of the book. I hand wrote most of this book in a black, hardbound canvas covered book that was probably meant to be a journal. I have journaled my whole life and I have written my whole life as well, although not for public consumption.
So the image that I saw in my head of the scene, playing out of the end of the novel, I wrote at a feverous pitch, on the first page of my black bound book. I then had to form character names, settings, and all the good stuff that goes along with novel writing. Which I had never done before. I bought books, I researched how to outline, but basically I winged it. I wrote the novel in about three months. The scenes played in my mind, and I was able to extricate the best out of the story that I could. I edited and re-edited the novel. I pitched my manuscript to agents and publishing houses for a full year of my life. I had some interest but never any yeses. Frustrated and emotional as I was, I refused to accept defeat. I decided to self publish. Back in 2005, when I finally got past trying to find a publisher and an agent, self publishing wasn’t as acceptable as it is these days. Nor was it as accessible. It was, however, much more affordable. I chose to use lulu.com, which probably was due to the fact that that was one of the only self publishing houses available at the time. Uploading the novel was a fairly simple process. I chose the cover, the font type, the color of the font, and the cover is from stock image. Formatting the pages was a bit difficult and the first print proof of the book was too many pages, too large of a font, not the right cover, not the right title or font – not the right anything.
So, I went back to the drawing board and finessed it into what it is now. I paid extra for the international ability to sell on Amazon, and once I received the first shipment of books myself, I couldn’t believe that I had done this. I had a book with an ISBN and it was registered at the Library of Congress and it was available for sale on websites. I held this bound grouping of words in my hands, and it came out of my brain. It was surreal.
Because I did not have an agent I had to hustle my own promotions. I held book signings at local bookstores, I made sure all local bookstores had copies of my book from the warehouse, I promoted it as much as I could through word-of-mouth and through online sales. Shortly after I wrote the book and launched it, I switched careers that involved a lot of training, and the creative part of my brain went dormant. I am still in the career that I switched to all these years later, but I have recently found joy in writing again. I owe it to a muse I found in the most peculiar place. I lost my muse long ago, so to find another one in a weird place, and completely unexpectedly was a shock and a joy. So thank you muse, and I will see you at the park in 2033. Until then, I’m pondering ideas for a second book, but I have no solid kernels on which to build yet. For now I continue with daily prompts, poetry and short stories, about some of my favorite things, which include Paris, cats, dogs, pigeons on the lamb, and Sometimes relationships.
For those of you who have considered writing a novel, or working on a novel, or have finished a novel, what are your experiences with the process? For example, I started at the end and worked my way back to the beginning. I worked pen and paper. I edited my own book with the pages looking like a murder scene had taken place. There was so much red pen. I didn’t tell anyone I was writing a book until I was done the book. I felt like it would be breaking a spell I was under. For me when I write I get in a zone. Does anyone else experience that? What are your experiences as you are writing whether you are working on a novel or another piece? Please comment below!
*I originally posted links to my book on a separate page on WordPress, but it has disappeared. I don’t think WordPress likes tennis.*
The song I thought of today is Unwritten, by Natasha Bedingfield.
I am unwritten Can’t read my mind I’m undefined I’m just beginning The pen’s in my hand Ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten
Oh, oh, oh
I break tradition Sometimes my tries are outside the lines We’ve been conditioned to not make mistakes But I can’t live that way
Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten
Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten The rest is still unwritten The rest is still unwritten
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
Every single thing that happens to us influences our perspective on life. Some large events affect us more. With the passage of time, we are granted the gift of wisdom. Hopefully we use what we’ve learned. People sometimes lament about getting older. The truth is, getting older is a privilege denied to many.
I have no deep philosophizing for this prompt. Instead, I thought of song lyrics to a accompany my response.
This song has always had a very mellow feel to me. It reminds me of another time. Maybe sitting on a school bus listening to the radio, heading to or from school. The other kids laughing and talking, throwing stuff over my head. The gym-like smell of the seats. Did other people have bus drivers who let them listen to the radio? Please let me know in the comments, because my bus was jamming.
Time (Clock of the Heart) – Culture Club
Don’t put your head on my shoulder Sink me in a river of tears This could be the best place yet But you must overcome your fears
Oh, in time It could have been so much more The time is precious I know In time It could have been so much more The time has nothing to show
Because Time won’t give me time And time makes lovers feel Like they’ve got something real But you and me We know we’ve got Nothin’ but time And time won’t give me time Won’t give me time (Time, time, time)
Don’t make me feel any colder Time is like a clock in my heart Touch we, touch was the Heat too much I felt I Lost you from the start
Oh, in time It could have been so much more The time is precious I know In time It could have been so much more The time has nothing to show
Oh, in time It could have been so much more The time is precious I know In time It could have been so much more The time has nothing to show
Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
Let me start out by saying I have two to-do lists. The first one pertains to work, and that’s written on a sticky note. Everything on that one gets done for that day.
My second to-do list is a general household list, and vacuuming is the item that gets scratched off and added to the next day’s list, usually every day. Yesterday, I finally was able to scratch that off, though.
I keep a to-do list because it feels like an accomplishment to be able to cross off items. Many days I cannot do any of the things on my list, so when I am able to complete one (or all), I feel an extra boost of accomplishment by crossing them off.
One of the items on my list today is to get out in that late winter sunshine. Happy Saturday.
I called my cable provider today – yes, I still have cable. The price is exorbitant, which is why I called them. While discussing how I watch five channels for the hefty sum they charge me, the guy on the other end of the phone asked me if I still use the landline.
I giggled and said that I do. I told him that I use it to give out to people so I don’t have to give them my cell phone number. Any type of membership I join, or discount card program: they’re getting the landline. I don’t make calls on it, unless I lose electricity. Then it becomes very handy.
He responded by saying I would be surprised at how many people keep their landlines specifically for the same purpose. It functions as call screening, spam blocker, weirdo blocker, and it’s always fun to get the “wrong number people” who think you’re their cousin twice removed.
I never answer it, the ringer is in fact on silent. I don’t even check the voicemail, because I know 99.9% of the calls left on that phone are spam. My mom gets a lot of phone calls on that phone, which at first was jarring but now it’s just amusing. By keeping the landline as sort of a dummy phone, figuratively, I divert most of the spam to the landline and away from my cell phone.
The other reason I keep it is because it’s vintage. It’s hanging on the wall in the kitchen. The number is the same since I can remember. The phone’s color was originally white. But my mom was an artist, so when she painted the white phone blue, I was not surprised. After she died, I couldn’t bear to see the blue kitchen and the blue phone anymore, I had to change things. So I painted the kitchen cabinets a neutral color. They are the original cabinets, joining them are the original countertops. On my quest to alter the blue phone, I went to the basement to find what stash of paint Mom had down there. I found a tiny tub of light pink paint. I narrowed my eyes and smiled. Pink was my mother‘s favorite color, and it is my second favorite color. You know what happened next. “Hello? Yes, this is pink phone. No one is here to take your call right now. Just kidding. they’re here, they just don’t want to talk to you. Ok, bye!”
