Shopping and Sunsets

February 5, 2020February 5, 2020 confidentwriterLeave a comment

Every trip I take has to include roaming through stories looking for my two favorite things — purses and shoes. I decided to get my shopping out of the way, today.

I took the Metro down to the city center. There was a tiny part of me felt nervous because of the language difference even though the concierge gave me a map with where I needed to get off circled.

It turned out to be fairly easy. However, after I got off the train, I had to make a decision about whether I wanted to go up or down. I decided to take the elevator up.

Once on the street, I made it about two doors before I saw the cutest bubble gum pink purse. Generally, that wouldn’t be my color, but there was something about that purse I couldn’t resist. I tried to convince myself to look around before I make a purchase. But then I thought, why wait?

There were two historical sights that I wanted to see — Lausanne Cathedral and old town. But to be honest the pull of the shops was stronger. That’s sort of the beauty of sightseeing alone. You get to do whatever you want. So I wandered in and out of shops, happy as a little clam.

But then my stomach started to complain. It was 3:00 PM and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 8:00 AM. In the States, it’s fairly easy to remedy that problem but not quite as easy in Lausanne. It was well after the lunch hour and well before the dinner hour. I asked around for somewhere that served food all day. A woman at one restaurant suggested that I try Les Brasseurs. I walked down the street but thought twice before going in. It seemed a bit too dingy-looking for my taste. I decided I wasn’t that hungry. Fortunately, I found a coffee shop on the other side of the street that had sandwiches and pastries. I was able to score a poke bowl.

After my makeshift lunch, I decided I needed to see at least one of the historic sights. The unfortunate part is that it was at the top of the hill I had been on earlier. I kinda regretted not visiting the site when I got off the elevator.

Nonetheless, I started up the hill. No elevator in sight. Boy was it steep. I had to stop several times to catch my breath. I vowed to exercise more in the future as seemingly everyone passed me by. Once I got to the top of the hill, I discovered the church was on top of yet another hill.

Honestly, I considered taking in the view from where I stood. But I took a deep breath and headed up the next hill. The cathedral was massive, but not unlike other cathedrals I’ve seen throughout Europe. I decided not to go in. Instead, I went to look at the city from the courtyard. And boy was it worth it!

Fortunately, I only had to walk down one hill to get back to the Metro. I felt a little cocky as I rode the elevator back down to the train. I got this, I thought.

The train started to move through the first three stops, Then the conductor said something in French and everyone got off. Now, it would have been logical for me to follow suit. But no. I stayed on the train. Then it started going back to where it had previously been. When it stopped again, I hopped off. I found another train heading in the direction of my hotel. I got on that train and this time I realized the conductor said the train terminates at this stop. So, I also got off.

I stood there at the station with no French feeling a little panicked. I decided to exit the station. Worst-case scenario I could take a taxi back to the hotel. Once on the street, I saw a sign that pointed toward the station for the train going in the direction of my hotel. The panic subsided. I’m not sure how I got mixed up. There was probably an easier way to get back to the hotel, but I made it nonetheless.

I took a few minutes to have a glass of wine to process my day before dressing for dinner. On the walk to the restaurant to meet Michael and his team, there was the most beautiful sunset.

We went to what could best be described as a steakhouse. The restaurant, 57 Grill, was right next to the lake and absolutely beautiful inside. It kinda reminded me of a salt cave with stylish furniture. The food was really good, except my husband and I both agreed that a US ribeye is much more tender. Though we wondered if what we were eating was what steak is supposed to taste like less. That’s probably a different kind of post

Travel Log as Writing Practice

February 3, 2020February 4, 2020 confidentwriterLeave a comment

Whenever I take a big trip, I vow to write down my observations, discoveries, and thoughts so that I can remember the nuances of the place I’m visiting. The first few days I feverish write in my journal about what I saw, the food I ate and my overall impressions. My intention is to use these notes for a blog post or an essay. And believe it or not, it sometimes works. But more often my intentions fizzle by the third day of my trip.

Maybe it’s grandiose, but I keep hearing Jean Picard from Star Trek in my head saying, “Captain’s log, 02-2020.” It makes me think I should keep a log of my trip by blogging as I go.

It sounds like nerdy fun, but I have to admit I’m nervous. It generally takes me all day to write a blog post. My perfectionist has a hard time letting go. And who wants to spend her vacation in her hotel room revising and revising her blog?

Not me!

But maybe there’s another way to think about it.

The authors of Art & Fear talk about an experiment with two sets of artists. The first set had to complete a painting a day and the other group worked on one painting the entire time. The group that did a painting a day showed vast improvement in their skill. They didn’t have time to fuss with their mistakes. They had to move on.

Writing on the fly has the potential to make us better writers. It forces us to quiet our inner critic and focus on getting words on the page.

So I’m going to test that theory by starting my spin on the captain’s log. So here we go. . .

Kim’s Travel log 02032020

We (my husband and I) landed in Zurich, Switzerland Saturday morning. We breezed through customs. The lines were relatively short and moved quickly. Then we took a two-hour train done to Lausanne. During most of the train ride, we were blurry-eyed and unable to sustain a conversation. Neither of us got much sleep on the plane. My husband fell asleep. I tried to keep my eyes open as we rode through the Swiss countryside. The houses and apartment buildings along the train tracks looked decidedly European.

Once at our hotel, we got a partial view of Lake Geneva and the Alps. It was cloudy and drizzly.

After a quick two hour nap, we headed out to take a better look at the view. As we walked along the path next to the lake, I felt such a sense of peace.

The next day, Michael had to meet with his team, so I was on my own to explore. My first stop was the Olympic Museum.

Lausanne is the Olympics capital, housing the international Olympic Committee. I wouldn’t describe myself as overly interested in the Olympics, but I thought it was worthwhile to see what the museum had to offer.

The Olympic museum sits on top of a hill facing Lake Geneva. There are several steps leading up to the building. Enough that I questioned whether or not it was worth the climb. But I decided it was.

Every fourth step has the city and the year of a specific game. It’s surrounded by a beautiful park with bronze statues of different sports. All of the statues were of men and they were nude. It sort of made me chuckle because who rides their bike in the nude? Nonetheless, the statues were beautiful.

Just outside of the museum, there is a flame burning.

I wasn’t sure what I would find inside, and to be honest I doubted it would take me very long to make my way through it. But surprisedly, I was totally engrossed in the exhibits and displays.

I loved learning that the Olympic Games started in 776 BC as a festival worshiping Zeus. They ended when a Christian emperor stopped the games in 393 AD because they were seen as pagan worship.

I also found it interesting that during the Olympic Games the various countries that participated entered into a peace treaty so that the athletes could travel to Athens in safety. There is still a similar type of agreement in place today.

There was an entire exhibit hall dedicated to Pierre De Coubertin, who is seen as the father of the modern Olympics. I found his thoughts on the importance of the games inspiring.

There was also a fascinating display of all the torches used in the modern games. I especially liked seeing the torch from the 1996 games held in Atlanta, which I attended. Just seeing the torch bought back the emotions I felt when Muhammad Ali ran into the stadium carrying it. I admit I got a little choked up when I saw a video loop replaying that moment.

One of the exhibits had equipment, uniforms, trunks, and shoes from certain Olympic winners. The most exciting to me was seeing Michael Phelps’s swim tights, Usain Bolt’s jersey and the ball used by the original dream team. And seeing Jesse Owens shoe was especially poignant. I couldn’t help but think about the plight of the world when he won back in 1936. It was another emotional moment.

I left the museum with three inspirational thoughts that easily apply to writing:

• Look ahead, speak frankly, act boldly.” This was Pierre de Coubertin’s personal philosophy. This sentiment is at heart of what we do as writers. We see beyond the moment, speak our truth and act boldly by being courageous enough to share our work.

• The Olympic Spirit is to build a better world by improving relations between people and the way they live. We as writers endeavor to do the same thing by sharing our stories and giving voice to the marginalized. And this is achieved the same way athletes do it, by focusing on three key values: excellence, solidarity, and respect.

• “The important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well.” — Pierre de Coubertin. This sort of sums up the reason we endeavor to keep our butts in the chair.

That’s all I have for today. More tomorrow.

The Writing Life

Stop Worrying About Family

January 15, 2020January 15, 2020 confidentwriter2 Comments

One of my biggest struggles as a writer is perception — what will people think of me and my writing. And the people I worry the most about aren’t my husband and children. They see my writing as a part of who I am. They aren’t surprised to see themselves in my essays or stories. They take it in stride and accept it as what it means to live with a writer. They point me back to my writing when I’ve taken extended breaks and when I’m struggling emotionally with an issue.

My extended family, however, is another story. Our shared history is more complicated. Our relationships are a bit more tenuous. As they say, there’s a lot of water under those bridges.

Consequently, when I sit down to write, I worry about how my family will judge my telling of these stories. Will they be taken as a betrayal or as a misrepresentation? Will there be hurt feelings and anger? Will they stop speaking to me or want to sever our relationship? Or could there be legal consequences?

Those questions get in my head and start to mess with the way I write. The net result is my writing becomes a shell of what it could be. It’s flat and uninteresting.

The fear of ramifications from family is real for many writers. As a result, countless stories, essays, memoirs, and novels never get written.

But lately, I’ve started to think differently. I contend, unless you make it to the New York Times bestsellers list, your family isn’t as interested as you think they are. At least that’s been my experience. I recently had an essay published that contained commentary I thought might be offensive. I worried about the fallout after posting the link to the journal on my Facebook page. But not only wasn’t there any fallout; there weren’t any comments at all.

There’s a good chance what we believe to be offensive isn’t as bad as we think it is. If we reveal family secrets or traumas that may be unknown, we have to consider why we are writing about it in the first place. Often, we write to make sense of our lives. Anne Lamott puts it this way:

“There’s a door we all want to walk through, and writing can help yo find it, and open it. Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up.”
Bird by Bird

And yet, we don’t live in a vacuum. Other people’s lives intersect with our stories. They might not agree with our take on the experience or even want to be included. But Anne Lamott also reminds us:

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

Now, of course, none of this applies when we write with the sole purpose of hurting someone. Never write to settle a score. Vindictive writing is very different than writing from your experience. It can be a slippery slope. People may find it slanderous and vindictive even if that wasn’t our intention.

Our stories are important. They deserve to be told. If you feel called to write, there’s an audience waiting. Don’t use your family as an excuse not to write. Care can more about your calling than what people will think about your writing.

Do the work. It may turn out that your story can be told well without sharing all the intimate details. But you won’t now that until you have written that first draft. If you find that you can’t tell your story without implicating others, be sure to consider their side. Even if you don’t include what you discover, it may give you insight, which always makes for better writing.

But don’t worry about any of that now. Just write.

Be fair and write well.

The Writing Process

How to Start Your Writing Project

September 9, 2019February 4, 2020 confidentwriter

You decided to write a book. The ideas were there, but disappeared the moment you opened a new Word document. Now the only thing standing in the way of you being the next New York Times bestseller author is actually start your writing project.

What to do?

Turn off the computer and return to talking about the book you’re going to write someday. It’s way easier. Or take a deep breath and trust the process.

The process

We want to believe inspiration or muses are necessary for the words to flow on the page. But inspiration is a temperamental, and muses are unpredictable. The writing process — planning, writing and revising— is steadfast and dependable. Do the work, and the words will come.

Back when I taught composition and advanced writing, I’d start the semester by writing a boiled-down version of the process on the board — pre-write, write, and re-write.

Pre-write – explore and research the subject you what to write about. Write – draft your take on the information you collected. Re-write/rethink your understanding based on feedback and expanded information brought up by your discovery through the writing process.

Each step is necessary to write well. But to start a writing project you have to pre-write or plan. Failing to prewrite is one of the quickest ways to derail your writing before you even get started.

So, what is pre-writing?

Prewriting builds a blueprint for your project by collecting the necessary information to start writing. Begin by examining your intentions. What question are you trying to answer? What problem do you want to solve? Is there specific information you want to share? What do you want readers to learn or think? What related experiences have you had or heard about? What’s the current buzz? Do you agree or disagree with the popular thinking? What’s your take on the subject?

This is the point of the process where I start a dedicated notebook to jot down ideas. A lot of what’s in this notebook never makes it to the story, essay or blog. The notes are there to help me sort out my thinking and figure out what I know and what I don’t know.

Research

That leads right into the research portion of planning. Start a list of questions that need to be answered. Read what others have written on the subject. Be careful not to get lost in the research or hung up because other writers seem to know more.

If you’re writing fiction, research can include learning about your characters. You can discover a ton about by interviewing them. It may seem weird, but pretend the two of you are having coffee. Ask questions. Are they forth coming? Or reluctant to share? How are they dressed? What do they do for fun? Do they have any pet peeves? Where did they grow up? Some suggest finding out what’s in their refrigerator, but honestly that doesn’t work for me. I couldn’t tell you what’s in my own refrigerator. The important thing is to answer questions help you discover who the characters are.

Research can help you develop your setting and various plot points. Maybe you need to investigate the time period or the city where the story takes place. Recently, I researched the Greek mythology of the muses for a short story. I learned that there were nine muses and that they were the product of a nine-day “relationship” with Zeus and Mnemosyne. I didn’t use any of that in the story but it helped me to think more broadly about the plot.

Another part of pre-writing and planning is what I like to call playtime. For fiction, I write vignettes with my characters to see how they react in different situations. Often these vignettes turn into larger scenes. For non-fiction, I take the raw information and do a forty-five minute free-write to see where it goes. During the process of free writing, you may discover how much you have to say on the subject. You might also discover the piece isn’t about what you thought it would be.

So while prewriting may seem tedious, it gets you one step closer to your goal of being that best selling author.

Now, close this blog and start.

The Writing Life · The Writing Process

Why You Should Be Writing

August 15, 2019 confidentwriter3 Comments

This past weekend my husband and I spent the day in St. Petersburg. We had lunch at this really cool restaurant called The Library, which by the way was built by his company. We toured another one of his projects under construction, before heading to the Chihuly Museum.

To say the glass was breathtaking would be an understatement, but what I hadn’t expected was the words of wisdom Dale Chihuly shared in the film about his work.

One section of the film focused on the creation of the Chihuly Light of Jerusalem 2000 at the Tower of David Museum. Chihuly made a comment about how much the world needed art and how he hoped the exhibit might play a part in bringing Jews and Arabs together. Chihuly believed art had that kind of power. It made me think about writing.

Our stories can help heal the world, but only if we actually write them.

Remember the courage, inspiration, comfort, and healing you received from a book. What if the author allowed fear, procrastination, or a myriad of other excuses to stop her from sitting down and writing her book done?

There are so many reasons not to write, but you and I both know they’re just fear and doubt dressed in fancy clothes. See them for what they are and write anyway.

Want to know why?

It’s what you want to do.

You love the power of words. You play with ideas in your head. You scribble in your journal. You feel the magic of pen to paper — clicking of keys. You know there’s something inside dying to come out. Don’t stop it. Write.

Writing gives us space to reflect. It helps clears the foggy. We can express things we couldn’t or wouldn’t say out loud. It allows us to the opportunity to look beneath the surface at who we are and what we really feel. We can be neurotic, obsessive, and plain old weird without risk of judgment. Well, you might judge yourself. I’ve looked back at some of my old journals and been like, girl you need to burn that shit. But more often than not, those pages reflect the course of my own healing. Writing has taught me how to be more compassionate with myself and others.

This happened to me while I was working on a novella about my paternal grandparents for my graduate thesis. My faculty advisor pointed out that the character modeled after my great-grandfather was flat. He challenged me to really look into him as a person.

To be honest, I couldn’t imagine seeing him as anything more than the abusive, mean man that I had always heard about. He never said much to me as a young girl, but my grandmother told me many stories about the vicious way he would beat her mother. But as I began to write more about him, I tried looking at the world through his eyes. I began to see the way life in rural Mississippi beat him down as a black man. That wasn’t an excuse for him to beat my great grandmother, but it let me see where his anger may have come from. For the first time, I began to feel some compassion for him.

You owe it to yourself to see where your writing will go.

We all have ideas and solutions in our head that just sit there. Television and technology sometimes make us lazy. We allow ourselves to be entertained rather than to create, explore, or invent.

That book or movie which was just like an idea you had is a cautionary tale of exactly why you should be writing. You sat on it. The other person took a chance. Stop thinking about it. Start writing.

In the words of every Nike commercial you’ve ever seen — just do it.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

The Writing Process

Five Easy Steps to Write Fearlessly

August 5, 2019September 29, 2020 confidentwriter2 Comments

What’s the biggest obstacle to writing?

The writer.

Sitting down to write often means coming face to face with our doubts and fears. I’m not a real writer. I don’t know enough. How can I possibly say anything that hasn’t been said better by the experts? What if I get it wrong? Does my idea even make sense? What if my mother reads it? What if she doesn’t? What will people think of me? What if it sucks? And on and on.

I totally get it. In fact, I’ve lived it. A great idea will strike. I optimistically jot down notes. Doubt creeps in as I do my research and it is on full tilt by the time I write the first sentence. If I manage to get beyond that round of fear, a more powerful version kicks in as I make my way through the first draft. It manifests as is-it-any-good and/or what-will-people-think. One of two things happen. I either edit out the parts that made me fearful or I stop writing.

Four years ago, I started an essay about learning to live with my natural hair. The original essay dove deep into my insecurities about the texture of my hair and myself as an African-American woman. It asked some really poignant questions, and then I backed off. I told myself I needed more research on the history of black hair in the United States. And once I did the research, I couldn’t figure out how the additional information fit into my story. So, I stopped working on it. It’s sad to think about the pieces that have died a slow death because of self-doubt and fear.

But interestingly enough something happened. I discovered my writing only works when I write from a place of vulnerability. As the saying goes, feel the fear and do it anyway.

I’m not suggesting that writing from a place of vulnerability is easy because it’s not. It’s really hard. There will be tears, and maybe a bit of nausea. But it will be true. It will be real.

I recently went back to the essay about my hair. I wondered what would happen if I just wrote it in spite of my doubts and fears. Here are five practical tips that helped me move from doubting myself to writing fearlessly:

Make room for yourself to write authentically.

Find a place where you feel safe to explore your thoughts deeply. There are times when I write best in my home office. It’s comfortable. I’m surrounded by my favorite things with the added bonus of not having to ask someone to watch my computer when I go to the restroom. Other days I love being lost in the anonymity of a crowded coffee shop. It feels less lonely than my office, and I don’t have to let the dogs in and out twenty times.

Stay seated.

I can’t emphasis this one enough. Keeping your behind in the chair goes a long way when you’re trying to write fearlessly. It forces you to face the challenge on the page. When you have the urge to get up or go do something else, ask yourself what is it about this work that makes you uncomfortable? Sometimes it’s because of the emotions it evokes. Or the approach to the work could be the issue. Either way, don’t let yourself off the hook so quickly. Set a specific time limit or word count and stay seated until you have achieved your daily goal.

Allow yourself to make mistakes.

Nothing stops our work died in its tracks faster than perfectionism. We have a vision of what the work should be. When it misses the mark, we get frustrated. This often happens because we set unrealistic expectations for ourselves to write like someone else. This is a big one for me. I have a ton of friends who are wonderful writers. I worry that my stuff isn’t as good as theirs. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. But we will never improve unless we actually do the work. Our mistakes become our guide.

Own who you are.

Self-doubt can make you question your ability. You may worry that you don’t have the right education or experience to write well. So, you buy more books or take another class. But nothing will makes as big of a difference as accepting who you are as a writer. Even after several books, countless classes, and two master degrees, I still doubted myself as a writer. It took me a long time to realize that if you write, you’re a writer. The world needs our story and we are the only one who can tell it.

Celebrate yourself.

Honor your accomplishments, no matter the size. I love to set a reward for myself at the end of a writing session. Go shopping. Get my nails done. Or lately, watch my favorite Netflix show without guilt.

Making a decision to write fearlessly may result in the best writing you have ever done. It’s worth it to at least try it.

Depression · Musing

Time to Edit My Netflix Rules

July 25, 2019July 25, 2019 confidentwriter2 Comments

I finished Girlfriends Guide to Divorce on Netflix last night. I choose it because I’m a sucker for the four-girlfriends-figuring-out-life-over-wine theme, and more importantly, it fit my two-plus seasons Netflix rule.

I’m not quite sure why I stuck with it. I hated the gratuitous sex, and more importantly, the narcissistic, judgmental, and all-around annoying main character.

Interestingly enough, I’ve felt that way a lot recently about television characters. It’s got to be some kind of sign. Maybe I should up my show game? Or perhaps I’m narcissistic, judgmental, and all-around annoying so I see it everywhere. Or the universe could be nudging me to make better use of my time?

Let’s hope it’s the latter.

Two Show Rule

Years ago, when my boys were toddlers, I wanted to write but I had a full-time job. It occurred to me that while I couldn’t change my work schedule, I could limit the amount of time I spent watching television. So, I made a strict rule of two shows a week —I have lots of rules. Anyway, I was able to free up enough time to actually take a correspondence writing course.

Of course, it was easier back then. We didn’t have cable at our house, and there was no such thing as streaming. But even when we did get cable, I maintained my two-show limit for almost twenty years.

But then, my children grew up. There was plenty of time for reading and writing during the day because I no longer worked full-time. I eased my rules and watched more shows during the week. Even so, I rarely watched television for more than four hours a week.

The Summer of Mad Men

That all changed the summer before my youngest child’s senior year of high school. She and I butted heads more often than not. My oldest son, who was twenty-four at the time, still lived at home, which created a lot of tension. My husband and I were in a horrible place. And to make matters worse, I had all but given up on my writing because every submission netted a rejection.

I spent the entire summer watching episode after episode of Mad Men in my bed, alone. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was battling depression. But now, whenever I think of that summer and the hours I spent watching Mad Men, I feel really sad.

I don’t remember exactly how or why I reengaged in my life, but I did. As a result, I watched less television. When my oldest son died the following year, TV wasn’t very comforting. Almost everything had the potential to be an emotional trigger. The only thing safe to watch was HGTV. House Hunters and Love it or List it became my go-to shows when I wanted to watch television.

Catching up with old friends

Over the last year or so, binge-watching has crept back into my life. It started by watching critically acclaimed shows and slowly grew into whatever seemed most interesting or fit my mood. It has become a part of my weeknight routine — make dinner, grab a glass of wine and lounge on the sofa while watching my shows. Tuning in to the next episode often feels like catching up with old friends.

Turns out binge-watching is a huge phenomenon. According to a Deloitte study, 75% of all consumers say they have binged watched tv and 34% do it weekly. It’s how we relax. It also offers the ability to form parasocial relationships with television characters that don’t require much from us but make us feel less lonely. We feel as if we’re connected to people, but it isn’t real.

Perhaps that’s why I find myself annoyed by most of the characters on tv. They are a poor substitute for real friends. To be honest, it was fine when I first moved to Tampa. I didn’t know anyone. Tv occupied my time. But now I want my own set of girlfriends to figure out life with over wine.

I can’t help but wonder what other things I might find to do if I wasn’t watching so much tv? It makes me think it’s time to edit my Netflix rules to include time off from watching. I’m going to try this week and I’ll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear your binge-watching/no television stories.

Until next time. . .

The Writing Life · The Writing Process

Back to Blogging

July 17, 2019 confidentwriter2 Comments

I’m blogging again. It’s been a while. I could list a multitude of excuses as to why, but that would serve no real purpose other than to make me feel better. So I’ll spare you.

Since my last blog, I relocated from Atlanta to Tampa. My transition included two apartments, one townhouse, six offers to buy or sell, the purchase of one house and the sale of another, and a storage unit with more boxes than will ever fit in our current home.

Fortunately, the last two years has also included quite a bit of travel. Most trips have been two to three day little jaunts, accompanying my husband on his business trips. But there have also been a few fun girls trips and lots of wine tasting. My friends and family have gotten so used to me traveling that they frequently start our conversations by asking where I am or when is my next trip. My life coach teased me once by saying, “Girl, you need to start a travel blog.”

“I should,” I said jokingly.

Although the idea appealed to me, there were a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work. I didn’t have anything new to contribute to the ton of travel blogs that already exist. Sure, I could write about what to wear to get through TSA quickly or how to efficiently packing a carry-on for multiple events. That’s hardly enough to sustain a blog and not that interesting.

But then I thought about the blog I wrote two years ago. It was a travel blog of sorts. It didn’t give advice about where to stay or what to see. Instead, it talked about how my travel experience affected how I saw myself. (Here’s Vacation Blue, if you missed it.)

I pondered and played with ways to turn this into a travel blog. I even wrote a practice blog about my trip to Portland, Oregon, and spent nearly a month working on a transition piece explaining why I was switching to a travel blog.

But something didn’t feel right.

It felt as if I was moving in the wrong direction. I blamed my discomfort on the fact that I couldn’t get the domain name I wanted. But deep down, I knew I was missing the point. I’m not a travel blogger.

Travel is a big part of my life, but what stirs my soul is encouraging other women to write. That’s why I started this blog in the first place. I wanted to inspire writers, provide positive encouragement, and create a supportive community.

A lot of those ideas actually grew into Minerva Rising Press. Consequently, much of my time is spent editing and publishing women writers in our journals and books. But there is still a personal need to reflect on my own writing and life in general.

So what gives? Why haven’t I been able to sustain the work of this blog?

The answer — a lack of self-acceptance and an unwillingness to work in the face of uncertainty.

It’s a challenge to write in such a public forum. There’s a fear that the work isn’t good enough and/or that people will reject it and you (the writer). Or that you will be judged for what you share. You have to learn to be comfortable with uncertainty. The work may or may not be good. And people may or may not like you.

Truth is, neither one matters. Your job as a writer is to learn to do the work.

The work stands alone. It isn’t about what anyone thinks of it or if anyone likes you. It’s about actually doing the work. It’s about the process. And the funny thing is, the more you do work, the better it becomes.

I know I make excuses, good excuses — family, responsibilities, commitments, and grief — not to do the work. I also fear being the writing won’t be very good, and/or no one will actually read it. The finished product ends up being the only thing that’s valued.

When we are called to write, it’s not about what others think or even who will read it. It’s about what the process teaches us. We learn to write by writing. Our failures and mistakes are as essential to our growth as our successes. And you can’t make mistakes if you don’t do the work.

“…all art is about starting again.” —David Bayles &Ted Orland, Art and Fear.

So, I’m back to doing to the work. I hope that as I challenge myself to get back to my desk, you will too.

Depression · Grieving

Vacation Blues

June 21, 2017June 20, 2017 confidentwriter1 Comment

I’ve got the back-from-vacation blues.

Even after being home for a week, all I want to do is go back to the beach.

Life is great at the beach. No responsibilities. Very little clothing. Quiet waves rolling in and out. Throw in a cocktail and good book, and it’s just about perfect. Why would anyone want to leave?

But the resistance to returning to my real life feels as if it’s rooted deeper than the vacation itself. Truth be told, I didn’t want to come back from our trip to Europe a few months ago.

Sure, I miss my bed. But if I had Oprah’s money and could take my bed along, there would be nothing pulling me back to Georgia.

I don’t have anything against Georgia. Living here has taught me to appreciate nature in ways I never imagined. Now I seek out nature the same way I look for cute boutiques. And while I still get my shopping in, I feel an unexplainable thrill when I experience the beauty of creation. I thank Georgia’s numerous trees, rolling hills, and waterfalls for that.

So, what is it about this place that makes me not want to come back? Is it the place? Or could it be what the place represents?

I used to think it was our house. The first time I saw it, I cried. Though it looked similar to the house we left in Naperville, it didn’t feel like home. But the timing and location worked, so we bought it. For many years, it served us well as our three children, friends and family floated in and out. There were lots of parties, laughing and deep conversations after dinner at the kitchen table. It started to feel like home. But then we lost Matt. And what was a huge active family home now feels empty even when it’s full of people. It’s a huge reminder of the past. And though my husband and I have decided to sell it after our daughter graduates from college, I doubt a new house is going to fix my resistance to resuming my real life after vacation.

The thing about vacation is we get a break from reality. Also, we can change how we see ourselves. At the beach, I am laidback and calm. Traveling around Europe, I was adventurous and cosmopolitan. It’s a bit like playing dress up. You get to try on different ways of being. But what happens when you don’t want to return to the real you?

That’s exactly where I am. I don’t want to wear the-Kim-who-lives-in-Georgia anymore, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my house or the town I live in.

Is this a fresh face of grief?

At home, I come face to face with my disappointments, failings and let’s face it –mourning. On vacation, I don’t have to think about my life. I don’t spend so much time alone, trying to make the best of my sorrow and loss. I’m not reminded of all that was.

No wonder I’d rather be on vacation.

The beach feels hopeful. Europe feels carefree. But the truth is I don’t need another trip. I need to figure out how to make my life work as it is here.

So, how do I do that?

Perhaps the first place to start is by getting out of my comfort zone. Too often we do the things the way we’ve always done them and wonder why we feel uninspired.

What would happen if I approached my time at home with same sense of adventure I have when I’m vacationing. What if I tried new places? Or took a cool class? Explored a new side of town?

Another key to being content where I am is accepting who I am. And if I don’t like who that is, I have to be willing to change it. We are never too old to be the person we’ve always longed to be.

We may not be able to change the reality of our life, but we can change how we experience it.

Depression · Grieving · Musing

How are you, really?

March 21, 2017 confidentwriter3 Comments

How are you?

No, really.

How. Are. You?

Not a simple question to answer, especially when it is asked in passing as a pleasantry rather than a real inquiry.

Generally, our response ranges from good to well, demanding on where we reside on the grammar scale – by the way, Grammar Girl states it’s okay to say good. Anyway, neither good nor well adequately describes the ebb and flow of our lives.

At any given time, we have a million and one things affecting how we feel. We worry. We’re anxious. We’re lonely. We’re unsure. We’re sad. And yet we keep all of it hidden. We settle for polite conversation rather than fulfilling our need for connection and understanding.

This really hit me hard Sunday afternoon at church as I stood at the door of the auditorium greeting people. So many faces showed signs of preoccupation, worry and stress. But when I asked how are you, everyone answered either I’m good or even worse, I’m fine. Perhaps this really struck me because I was just as guilty. If I were being honest, I would have said I’m struggling with being here today. Not only didn’t I feel very well, I was battling a wave of sadness. I felt as if I didn’t matter. I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people walking through the doors of the church felt the same way I did.

The church is supposed to be a place of comfort and grace, but we allow pleasantry to take the place of compassion or even love. We keep our deepest needs buried beneath a thinly veiled smile. That’s crazy!

Of course, I know it isn’t practical for everyone to stop and tell the greeter their problems. Nor should the greeter kill the vibe by sharing her woes. But where does pleasantry end and realness begin?

The problem may be we spend too much time worrying about appearances. We don’t want people to think poorly of us or to know we don’t have it all together, which creates a breeding ground for depression. Loneliness and despair often lead to a belief that we don’t matter, or worse that the world would be better off without us. And this feeling is only intensified when we think we are the only person who isn’t okay.

I’m particularly sensitive to this because of my loss, but that doesn’t alleviate the fact that too many people suffer in silence. And for some of them, like my son, it’s a matter of life and death.

We have got to move beyond the pleasantry of I’m fine, particularly with the people we are closest to. Ask deeper questions and be willing to listen. Share your own experiences with the ebb and flow of life.

A lot of this was swirling through my head as I stood at the door, and it all came to a head when one of the team leaders stopped to check how things were going. She asked me how I was doing. Rather than giving her a pat answer, I told her the truth. And to my surprise, she told me she wasn’t okay either. Her grandfather had died the week before and she was struggling with sadness and grief. Though brief, our honest conversation became an opportunity for us to comfort one another. And when she walked away, I truly felt better.

Maybe we can’t dive into every I’m good, but we can make a special effort with the people who we’re in relationship with, whether professional or personal. Ask follow-up questions. Or better yet, ask deeper questions which require real conversation. It may take more time, but it could make the difference between life and death.