Been There, Done That · Religious

A rough couple of weeks….

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It’s been a rough couple of weeks as I’ve already shared. A rough couple of weeks after a rough month of trying to get that book up. However, life has taken a turn for the better. My Mom is making a miraculous comeback largely because she’s surrounded by love and prayers. While she won’t be home for a while yet since she still has Rehab to finish and other children to visit; at least I know she’s coming home better than she was when she left. We both are.

When bad things happen your world tilts on its axis and God starts talking to you. He sure started talking to me over the last couple of weeks. I was convinced I was going to lose my Mom from that fall. Everyone else was, too. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. In talking to her over the last couple of days, she told me that she told God that He could take her if He wanted her although she wasn’t ready to go. The situation was that bad. Obviously, God wasn’t done with her yet and she got a new lease on life instead. That’s truly a wonderful thing. My Mom is 90; but, she still has a lot to offer the world. Don’t ever write anyone off because they’re old. Our elders have so much to teach us if we’d only listen to their wisdom.

To give you the quick backstory, my “Mom” is my second mom. My birth mother died from cancer in 1996 when she was 51 and I was 31. It devastated me to lose my anchor and my best friend. This Mom is actually my ex-mother-in-law I’ve lived with for the past twelve years. We have a Naomi and Ruth relationship. In fact, for the first four years or so no one at church knew she wasn’t my real Mom.

Anyways, this woman took a very bitter young woman under her wing and healed a lot of hurts. She was my sounding board for Been There, Done That. To be honest, it was scary sharing my crappy life with her. I didn’t think she’d love me any more; but, she did. God has blessed me into a family of terrific people who love and appreciate me being here for their mother. I love them dearly in return. It’s something I’ll never take for granted because most of us don’t get that second chance.

Back to the present, I had a nice long visit with my Mom yesterday at Rehab (physical – not drugs or alcohol in case I need to clarify) which is a good two hours away from where we live. (She was visiting family out of town when she had her accident.) We talked, laughed, made plans for the future, and had a fun time in general. This experience has changed both of us for the better. We also had a serious talk or two.

While she was in the hospital, God worked on me in a whole lot of ways. Like letting me know writing Been There, Done That wasn’t the cure-all we thought it was. It helped a lot, yes; but, it didn’t heal every ding in my psyche even if I thought it had. Father God, in his infinite wisdom showed me an emotional wound I’d never seen before. He showed it to me and gave me the means to purge it. I just had to talk the ugly through with my Mom. As amazing as it seemed, that was all it really took.

You see, it hit me while my Mom was in that precarious moment where she could live or die, that I would be totally lost without her. That I depended more on her than I did on God and that was a problem. A bigger problem than that was I realized part of why that was. While I won’t deny my Mom loves me like one of her birth kids, she also needs me due to some Rheumatoid related issues. Not that she wouldn’t figure out a way to make it without me; she would. It’s just easier because I’m here.

When that hit me in a vulnerable moment, I suddenly realized almost everyone who’d ever been in my life before I met my Mom was in my life because they needed something I had to offer. Not because they loved me. That realization hit me pretty hard. No one wants to realize they wasted their “best years” on people who weren’t worth it. However, I suspect many of us wake up to find that’s true.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying my birth mother didn’t love me. She did and she showed me in so many ways. But, I also know she developed severe Rheumatoid right after she gave birth to me. Even though you couldn’t see any physical manifestations, her pain was so bad some days I was rolling her hair and helping her dress by the time I was three. While she loved me, she needed me just as desperately and it showed. I learned very early on what it meant to be needed and that was how I eventually grew to define my self worth.

By how much I was needed.

It disturbed me a couple of days ago to realize those feelings still lurked deep within my psyche. When I shared that realization with my Mom at Rehab it yesterday, it was more to thank her for being the first person in my life to just love me for me. Even when I wasn’t very lovable. Yes, she’s come to need me more as the years have passed and her hands have deteriorated from the Rheumatoid. But, she didn’t start loving me because she wanted anything I had to offer. I’m not sure I had anything to offer at that time anyone would want. I was an angry, unhappy woman and it showed.

In spite of my prickly attitude, she loved me because she could.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · Uncategorized

Moving On…

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Today is the day I “officially” started writing Book Two of Been There, Done That. I won’t be calling the book by that name; but, it’s the working title in my mind. While I don’t have the story fully outlined yet, I do know most of the concepts I want to explore. These ideas have been roughed out since I realized there were a lot of “that’s a subject for another book” moments in my story long before the first book was done. As this second manuscript becomes a probability, the idea of writing another nonfiction is both exciting and daunting at the same time.

Nonfiction isn’t a genre I ever considered writing. In fact, it’s so not in my wheelhouse if you’d asked me to write something true a year ago, I would have said I couldn’t do it. I so don’t do nonfiction. Not my thing. I’d have believed it, too. I’m a romance/mystery kind of girl. My writing portfolio consists of historical romances, contemporary romances, romantic suspense, and a whole lot of fanfic for The Mentalist tv show. There isn’t a whisper of nonfic in my past endeavors. However, old dogs can learn new tricks and, what I though I couldn’t write, I actually did.

Right now, I’m in the earliest stages of creation. It’s that strange period where I freeform write excerpts from my life as my outline gradually defines itself. I know my style breaks every rule of writing; but, I have to relive these periods to be able to write them. Forget the brainstorming and the planning. It’s much too early. There has to be a raw, conversational element to my story that comes from the heart. I can only get that by reliving the events and walking them out in my mind with brutal honesty.

What I do know is, this book is about all the years I spent dabbling in the “Occult” although I didn’t see it that way at the time. I made up all kinds of excuses to convince myself what I was doing wasn’t wrong even though I knew it was in the back of my mind. I needed some manner of control in a life where I believed I had none. I craved some manner of protection from the molesters and the bullies inhabiting my life. Some part of me thought I could have that if I could discern my future before it happened. That was a bad move on my part. A very bad move. It was also a move that negatively impacted my life for years to come. While I knew life didn’t work that way, I wanted it to and I tried to make it happen. I really did.

I followed my own rules which meant I’d do this; but, I wouldn’t do that. For example, I’d read Tarot Cards; but, I wouldn’t touch a Ouija Board. I’d read about witchcraft; but, I wouldn’t read the spells. I wouldn’t put the words in my head. Even though I wasn’t a Charismatic at the time, I knew words had power. I didn’t know how I knew it. I just did. I believe now that the Holy Spirit only let me flirt around the edges of paganism. As much as different aspects of different religions caught my interest, I could never shake my grounding belief in my Biblical God and Jesus. Added to that, I believed in demonic influences and Spiritual Warfare. I still do. So, while I’d edge my big toe right up to outright paganism, I just couldn’t cross the line.

Looking back, my reasoning was flawed and sad. I wasn’t looking for Spiritual fulfillment. I was looking for control. Those are two very different things. I believed strongly in God and, in my mind, I was a Christian. With hindsight, I was wrong. I was simply a Spiritual Seeker who believed the Christian God existed instead. I wasn’t a Christian by any means. I wasn’t an outright Pagan either. I was something in between which meant I was truly nothing because I lacked the conviction of either cause. My God was the harsh judge of the Old Testament. Not the Jesus who was willing to die for me. There’s so much more I could say here; but, this isn’t a post about my personal religious beliefs so I won’t.

I won’t write this second book from the perspective occult practices are evil although I feel that way based on my personal experiences. I know the insatiable hunger that grew in me to Tarot cards for anyone interested. I felt it several times over the years I read the cards. I had to shove my decks in a drawer and walk away for a few months to break the hunger. It was very unsettling at the time. If my friend who taught me to read Tarots hadn’t told me I could feel that way and how to break it, I would have been terrified when I started feeling so out of control. More importantly, I may have missed what was happening and gotten trapped even deeper in darkness than I already was. However, while a real experience, that’s not really what my book is about either.

My story is more about the patterns and practices I fell into trying to control my environment to keep from getting molested and/or hurt again. The sad part of the story is that, instead of preventing more destruction in my life, the very things I did only made me more vulnerable to making the bad choices that took me further into the nightmare my life eventually became. That connection is what I believe I’ll be exploring more than the actual occult practices.

As this post draws to a close, I’m off to work on developing the actual manuscript. This should have been up days ago; but, my 90 year old mother took a very bad fall a couple of weeks ago. She’s been in the hospital two hours away since. Her health was very precarious until a couple of days ago so I haven’t felt much like writing although I’ve tinkered with this page here and there. She’s now in Rehab and well on her way to her full recovery. She started turning that corner on Thursday night. By yesterday the Mom I know was back filled with her usual strong, unshakeable faith and fire. God gave her a sudden miracle healing almost overnight. She still has a way to go before she comes home; but, she’s a totally different person than she was two short days ago. Once that happened, I was able to return to my writing assignment with a clear head and a grateful heart.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll have another post or two over the next week or so. I’m on vacation so I’ll have the time to write and I’m looking forward to seeing what comes next. Thank you for reading and liking my posts. This is all a learning experience for me so any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Calla

Been There, Done That · writing

While it isn’t much in the big scheme of things, today is a day I celebrate…

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I haven’t posted here in a while because I’ve struggled for a good three weeks to get my paperback up on Amazon. The struggles went on long enough I pulled my ebook off because I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out. I started to internally debate whether I wanted to put this book out there at all. I began to question whether God wanted this book out there. Sometimes it’s easier to doubt myself than it is to stick in my purpose.

That’s an old pattern and old patterns are hard to break. I’m still working on that one.

The “funny” part of the whole exercise is nothing was insurmountable even if it felt that way. Nothing was catastrophic. Nothing necessitated rewriting my manuscript or doing anything drastic beyond working out a few formatting issues on my side and letting Amazon work out the “invisible” issues on their side. For the most part, the delays were caused by my ignorance and a slew of annoyances hiding in plane sight.

First, I accidently screwed up the cover size. My designer fixed that in a few days. Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll send over the page count from my Word Document; not the Kindle Version. Score one for the newbie mistake. While this isn’t my first self-published book, it’s been a couple of years since the last one and things have changed a lot. I didn’t have any major trouble that time around. Just some formatting issues I was able to fix.

This time was different.

It was one miniscule issue after another. Things you’d never think of in a million years like an extra space here or a missing period there. Not in the actual block of text on Amazon mind you. On Bowker, on my book cover, NOT on my book cover…The list went on and on! The poor guys at Amazon were saying, “Oh, I remember you. I talked to you three days ago.” I felt sorry for them having to deal with me. I’m sure they thought I’d disappear once the last change updated only to have me on the line as soon as it was done (3-4 days later).

While I’m sorry to put you through the “Poor Me!” session, it does have a purpose. As much as I didn’t enjoy the drama, I learned so much. I wouldn’t undo a minute of it. There were new formatting issues I finally figured out and editing tricks I explored. There were secrets to making my manuscript look more professional I hadn’t been able find with my first book. The list of positives goes on and on. However, none of that’s really important in the big scheme of things.

The significant thing I learned by pushing through all of this is I’m not the woman I used to be. As often as I second-guessed myself and contemplated just tossing the project, I couldn’t. The old me would have taken it as a sign and walked away in the early days. Again, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t break that promise to God. I’d agreed to get the book out if He would help me write it. He did his part. I had to do mine, so I did. The book is out there. Eventually, I’ll get around to promoting it. Right now, I’m taking a day or two to step away, relax, and get my head on straight. This has been a trying few weeks.

As I said so many times in my book, I can’t separate God from my life. He’s too much a part of me. However, that doesn’t mean you have to share my beliefs to get something out of what I have to say. The whole purpose of today’s entry is just to acknowledge I see yet another difference between the person I am now and the person I was a year ago.

That woman would have given up and walked away. She wouldn’t have gone through all the phone calls with the techs and all the time spent combing through the manuscript time and again searching for problems she couldn’t find. She would have concluded there was something wrong with her or something wrong with her manuscript. She would have found some fault within herself for why this wasn’t working as it should have been. She would have taken it as a sign and quit. I’m not her and I didn’t let my self-doubts tank me. Yes, I had them. However, unlike the past, they didn’t have me.

I decided instead to aggravate the heck out of those techs until they found the crappy little problem that was derailing the whole thing. Once they did; they fixed it and all was well. The solution was as simple as copying my book title from Bowker and pasting it in the title line on KDP. Don’t ask me what the miracle was. It didn’t look any different than what was already there. Not to my eyes. However, there must have been something I couldn’t see.

In the meantime, I decided to make a couple of other changes as well. Simple things like not hiding behind a Calla Lily on the off chance someone might recognize me. I am who I am. My life is my life. I’m not ashamed anymore.

Until next time,

Calla

Uncategorized

Publishing Update

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I ran into a three week nightmare of issues trying to get Been There up on Amazon. That’s why I haven’t posted anything here in a few weeks. All of my time outside of work has been occupied with fixing the issues. Also, I pulled the ebook a while ago so I could launch both formats at the same time. I finally received my breakthrough two days ago on Friday and both books went live last night.

I’m working on a new post I should have up in a day or two. I noticed my posts are starting to get read and I wanted to say thank you to everyone who’s reading. All of this is new to me. Baring my soul is new. Deciding to put a photo to the name is a recent decision as well. I finally decided, I’m not ashamed of my life, I didn’t lie or embellish anything, and I don’t owe anyone in that book the protection of remaining anonymous.

In fact, in this world where everyone wants to know everything, not putting a face to the story might stop someone who needs to hear what I have to say from reading my book. I don’t want that. Anyways, this is just a quick post to update the status of the book and let anyone who’s interested know I haven’t abandoned my blog. I’ve just been side-tracked by real life.

Calla

Been There, Done That

I said I would post…

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When my e-book finally went live on Amazon. That happened about 30 minutes ago. I still don’t have the print version up yet. I’m waiting on the cover. That’s coming soon.

This is the book I keep referring to in my posts. I finally found the courage to put it out there.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That

Damage Begets Damage

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I started writing this post two weeks ago. I didn’t get anywhere. The words refused to flow. I knew what I wanted to say. The how was eluding me. My timing was off. Abandoning the moment, I moved on to a message that was ready to live knowing I’d revisit this idea at a later date. That date is now.

While I fully embrace letting go of the past, there are aspects of our existence we should never forget. Like the crazy moments we lock away as we emerge from the chrysalis of our old lives into the new. Doing that may prove a big mistake. The key to healing is often in the little thoughts skittering across the surface of our mind when we least expect them. The ones unnoticed and unharvested from seeds planted long ago. The so-called irrelevant ones we never think to capture when opportunity blooms.

I’m still unraveling “irrelevant” thoughts I had from my teens. Still gaining insights that might have changed the course of my life a long time ago. If I’d had the wisdom to see what my subconscious was trying to tell me. While I do believe in the subconscious, I’m also a Charismatic Christian at this point in my life. So, my personal belief in this instance, is that God was trying to head me off at the pass. Prevent me from hitting that point of no return where it took me a good forty years meandering through my personal wilderness to find my way back to Him. Unfortunately, the “animals” inhabiting the wasteland of my existence were “two-leggers”. I would have probably done better with the four-leggers.

At the rate I’m going, this may end up being a two-parter. I don’t know. I do know I can’t seem to get where I want to go by the direct path. There are too many rabbit trials to explore along the way. One of them is the issue I have with anyone who writes a book from the perspective they did this and everything wrong was suddenly right again. The one’s who claim, if you follow their lead, the same will happen to you. I’ve read plenty of those, they didn’t work, and I’m certainly not making that claim. I never will. I’m still a work in progress. I still have issues I take to God everyday. I’m very much that broken vessel you read about and I know it.

But, I’m in a much healthier place than I’ve been since I was molested as a little kid. I understand happy again. I have value in my eyes once again. I have hope. I know the latter part of my life will be better than the first fifty-five years. As crazy as this sounds, I don’t feel anywhere near my chronological age. There’s still a childlike part of me that views the world with expectation and wonder anticipating the days when she’ll experience the hopes and dreams stolen long ago. That knowledge gives me the courage to write the way I do. Conversationally. Like we’re exchanging pleasantries over a cup of tea. I prefer coffee; but, I do drink tea.

Back to what I was originally saying. I can’t promise to have all the answers you need. I can say I might have some of them. Especially if your self-esteem issues are similar to mine. I can only say read my book, look at my life, take anything you need from the lessons I’ve learned, and apply that to your life. Find your own way. Take responsibility for your existence. Understand there are always consequences for our actions. No-one can get around that. If you do something stupid that spawns a nightmare, the mess you created is yours . Own it, do what has to be done, learn from it, and move on. Don’t keep doing the same thing and getting the same result because it’s easier to pass the buck than be responsible. As contrary as this might sound, there are many times when it isn’t the event itself that’s import. It’s the gleaning of the invaluable life lesson that transitions us from darkness into light that is.

There are a lot of lessons I didn’t learn, or that I willfully ignored, over the course of my life. One of the most profound was that damaged people attract damaged people. Believe me, I knew I was damaged. I knew I was nothing. But, I desperately wanted someone to prove me wrong. For most of us, real life doesn’t work that way. We end up attracting people like us or worse who only hurt us more. Or, if that exception happens, we often end up opening another can of worms that’s equally self-destructive in a different way.

There’s no denying my-self perception made me prey for nasty characters. The kind who intentionally hide their evil until it’s too late. Until the trap is sprung and you’re caught in their deceptions. There were times when the fight to get away didn’t seem worth the effort. Let me tell you right now, it’s worth whatever it takes (within reason – I’m not telling you to harm anyone in anyway) to free yourself from damaging influences.

The single thing I could have done several times in my life was to actually deal with the bad things that were happening to me instead of hiding them. While I understand I was a child when things started going downhill, that doesn’t change the fact I immediately, and very normally, thought I was responsible for what happened to me. That there was something wrong with me instead of something wrong with the people who hurt me.

Over time, that became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Where there was nothing wrong with me initially except I had a perverse father, something very wrong developed in my identity over time. Eventually, my self-perception telegraphed a neon sign over my head that said, “My name is nothing.” that, while invisible to me, was very visible to every predator out there. For the most part, I managed to steer clear of the obvious ones who hadn’t perfected their disguises. When it came to the “professionals,” I wasn’t quite so lucky. They usually slithered out of their holes about the time I was lonely and vulnerable. The rest is history.

Why am I saying all of this? Because I was a forgiving, resilient kid. Being such, I believe I could have ended the hell before it ever really began. If I’d told my Mom my Dad was touching me inappropriately the first time it happened those feelings of unworthiness would never have blossomed. Whether she would have left him or not, I don’t know. I do know what he was doing would have stopped and I could forget the rest of my life. It wouldn’t have happened. Not the way it did. I would have had a shot at a normal life with the normal ups and downs that are part of living. Yes, I would have gotten hurt. We all do. I just wouldn’t have been decimated and reduced to nothing in my mind.

This is probably the point where I should wrap this up. It’s not a two-parter. Just longer than I usually write. Summing up my ramblings, all I’m really saying is I’d advise you to take a long hard look at your life and the people around you – especially the one’s who influence you the most. Do it frequently. Take stock of the emotional dings and lacerations you don’t want to face. Don’t let them fester. Deal with them instead. Be honest with yourself. Accept your responsibility in the matter. Don’t blame yourself for what other people have done. That’s their responsibility. Hold them accountable.

However, don’t make excuses for yourself or others. That was the pervasive mantra in my life. It was easier to find an excuse than it was to dig around in a gaping wound. Slapping the excuse bandage over the soul defeats the whole purpose of personal accountability. Don’t do it. Look at the people in your life instead. If they’re detrimental to your well-being, relegate them to your outer circle of acquaintances. If you need to get them out of your life temporarily, or permanently, do so. It doesn’t matter if you love them and/or they love you. Sometimes the people we love the strongest damage us the most.

On that note, we’re done. I’m waiting for my e-book to make it through Amazon’s review to go live. It’s been a rugged few weeks since I started this blog and thought I was going one way with the book and ended up going another. I had it up. I took it down. It wasn’t ready. Or maybe I wasn’t. So, I basically started over. Not with the writing – with the exterior packaging. It’s been an experience. Exciting; but, an experience. I’m still waiting on the new cover for the print version, so that’ll be coming later. I’ll throw a notice up here when it’s ready. It doesn’t make sense to keep referring to Been There, Done That...Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It if it’s not out there should you want to read it to understand where I’m coming from.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That

Figuratively Speaking…

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Been There, Done That…Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It leaves me raw and naked. It strips the flesh from my emotional bones and leaves the structural integrity of my life exposed for all to see. Making peace with that reality was the hard part of the process. However, not putting the book out there was never an option. I knew this story would see the light of day before it was ever written. I also knew I had to reach the point where I wasn’t ashamed of my life or I wouldn’t be able to do what had to be done. That took a little while longer.

I wish I could say I turned back to God, and, “poof,” everything wrong in my life was suddenly right again. While I do believe that’s possible, that isn’t how things happened for me. While I did get incrementally better as the years passed, and my faith grew, it’s only in the last year that I fully turned that corner from chronic shades of gray into the light.

I won’t say I don’t still have my moments. I do. My life is a constant battle to uproot the sneaky little weeds before they become deep seated issues. There’s nothing unusual about that. Life is a twisting, turning journey of discovery and growth until it is no more. What sets people apart is what we do with the lessons we learn. Do we use them for the greater good, throw them away, or hoard them selfishly for our personal benefit. That choice is up to you.

For me, there wasn’t a choice. The desire of my heart was, and is, to prevent others from going through what I’ve been through. That’s the reason I wrote the book and why I’m writing this blog in the first place. While I won’t deny writing my memoir was cathartic, it was traumatic as well. Much worse than I expected. I had to face a lot of ugliness head on and lay a lot of painful moments to rest. I experienced a lot of tears, anger, and generalized craziness in working through a lifetime of festering toxins that oozed through the emotional bandages I’d slapped over the gashes in my soul. Once all the pus was out, I no longer felt the crippling shame that leads to nothingness. Releasing the shame started me on the road to emotional healing.

While not being ashamed of the life you’ve led doesn’t sound like much, it’s a key to turning your life around. To turning the nothing you think you are into the something you’re meant to be. It’s the moment you accept you’re responsible for the actions you took that put you in a negative situation. It’s also the moment where you refuse to take responsibility for the actions of the person or people who chose to hurt you. Most importantly, it’s the moment you finally realize you own your life and that’s truly liberating.

Enough said.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That

Out on that limb…

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I’ve already taken those first tentative steps by putting Been There, Done That on Amazon. I haven’t started advertising it or pushing it in anyway. I still have one or two things I need to do before I do that. One of them is to honor my initial promise to write about my life and the lessons I’ve learned on this blog. I could say, with Dorian looming, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to deal with anything that serious. I’m not a liar; so, I won’t. The truth is it’s far easier to write about where I am now than revisit where I was then. But, I’m a big girl wearing her big girl panties, so I can only procrastinate so long. It’s finally time to bite that bullet. So, here I go. Well, almost.

Before I really start writing what I should, I need to say a couple of things. First, I’m not a supporter of movements or mind sets that think vengeance and unforgiveness make everything all right. Neither of those things undo what’s already done nor do they heal those jagged gashes in the soul. I’ve walked the unforgiveness path and it doesn’t work. It only makes you someone you’d never choose to be.

However, I’m also not saying criminals shouldn’t be punished for their crimes. Don’t think that for a minute. There’s a right way to do it. One that doesn’t destroy the survivor through bitterness and hate. Again, that’s my opinion. It’s one I reached after forty years of struggle when I finally found peace. You don’t have to agree. That’s what makes life interesting…the differences between us.

The second thing I need to say is I’m not a feminist – not as the term is defined today. I do believe in equal pay, equal opportunity, and a few other tenets I won’t go into here. I know, as a woman, I’m as capable and intelligent as any man. I don’t, however, embrace some of the more radical elements of that movement. I am feministic in the sense that I believe women can do anything. Survive almost anything. Live to fight another day when they’d rather die instead. I’ve been there so many times that mindset became boring. However, it’s why I’m still alive. I couldn’t give in. There was some spark deep inside that fought to live when the rest of me wanted to die. I tie a lot of that to the fact I am a woman and to the inner strength I learned from my mother and her mother before her.

You might wonder why I’m telling you all this, and I’m not sure it’s obvious. It’s because these are the beliefs that shaped my life and made me who I am. These are the beliefs that have allowed me to move past being molested, beaten, given to other men by a well-educated, white collar husband who should have loved me and almost destroyed me instead. The list goes on. And these are the beliefs that eventually allowed me to forgive my tormentors. But, more importantly, these are the beliefs that allowed me to forgive myself.

Now, that I’ve done the set-up, I’ll start posting what I need to say in the coming blogs. I’m finally in that frame of mind where the words will flow.

Until next time.

Calla

General Quirkiness

As I Sit Here Waiting for Dorian to Pass…

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I’ve had a productive day. I worked on customizing this site and did a little work on my author’s page for my non-fic. Everything is still a work in progress for me. I also downloaded the contemporary romance I pulled off of Amazon a long time ago for a rewrite. The idea is good, the story needs serious work. I knew that when I put it out there. I needed a test subject to toss out there to learn how the whole process worked so I produced one. This book showed me a lot of what not to do as well as a lot I needed to know. Now, it’s time to give the story new life and make it what it should have been the first time around.

I also gave the fur babies a bath which doesn’t sound like much. Right, tell that one to the Princess. Hurricane Alley hates baths.

“Bath…I don’t think so.”
“I’d rather stink!”

As usual, I had to grab her, toss her in the shower stall, and close the glass door before she knew what was happening. If I hadn’t, she would have dived under the bed for the next few hours and, no, I can’t get her out of there. The bed’s too low. Anyhow, I tricked her and committed high treason in Allie’s opinion.

After the deed was done, I laid her on grandma’s lap swathed in nice, soft towels where she lay for the next hour in a semi-catatonic, traumatized state. Right. Where she lay playing her betrayal for all it was worth. It didn’t matter she smelled and felt better. In her eyes, I was Poopy Mama and she wanted nothing to do with me. Forget the puppy kisses, she wouldn’t even look at me.

Her brother isn’t nearly the drama queen. Not about baths anyway. He likes them. In fact, he waits impatiently for his turn while his sissy is getting tortured. My only problem with Stinky is he likes to stick his nose under the shower stream. Maybe he likes to hear himself snort. I don’t really know. I do know he likes to “dance” when his bath is done. Don’t ask. It involves a lot of cheek on the rug, heinie in the air moves that make him happy. I can’t argue with that.



“Who cares if I’m flipping my bed…It’s bath time!”

As I’ve already said, it’a been a productive day. In between the computer work and washing the dogs, I managed to finish the laundry and put it away. I also squeezed a two and a half mile walk in before dark. While it was pleasantly windy when I began, dark clouds started rolling in before I got home. Dorian is starting to make his presence known. Since I don’t know what will happen over the next day or so, I’m not sure when I’ll update again. Soon, I’m sure.

In the interim, I have a book to rewrite and web pages to design so I’ll be busy whether I have electricity or not.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · General

Some adults still wonder why the sky is blue…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

Even when we know the answer, and I’m one of them!

Right now, I’m sitting here contemplating my recent decision to self-publish my book, Been There, Done That…Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It. Not because I think I’ve made a bad decision. I don’t. After thoroughly researching what’s required to get an agent to even consider looking at my query package, I realized I’d be doing most of the work to promote my book upfront before anyone ever sees my query. If that wasn’t enough to sway me in the other direction, discovering the percentage of new authors who never make a dime from their work after getting published by a major publishing house finished the job . So, if I’m happy with my decision to put my memoir on Amazon, you might wonder what’s left to contemplate.

Only the death of a life-long dream.

I’ve dreamed of being published by a major publishing house for most of my life. I came close a couple of times; but, it wasn’t right either time. My first whiff-of-success came when an editor at one of the two major publishing houses requested the manuscript for my first historical romance. The first whiff of defeat came when I received my first official rejection letter. Unfortunately, my manuscript got caught in a shift in writing styles that wasn’t apparent until the next years’ crop of books came out. While that door wasn’t totally shut in my face, I was told to rewrite the whole 150,000 word manuscript, resubmit it, and I might make it back to an editors desk. In my youthful arrogance, I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t compromising my writing style. Right. Dumb decision. I should have compromised away. Once I got my foot solidly in the door, I could have probably done my own thing to a certain degree.

The second time I had a shot at making it with the same manuscript was a couple of years later when I sent the book out to three well-known agents looking for new clients. I didn’t expect anything to come from it or I probably wouldn’t have sent my book out when I did. I was mainly looking for a diversion from the fact my Mom had just passed away from Cancer at the age of fifty-one. Waiting to hear from agents seemed as good a distraction as any so I took the leap. I was thirty-two at the time and I’d spent the past five years editing that book off and on. The manuscript had lost about 30,000 words along the way and I was proud of it.

When the responses came back, I received some fantastic compliments I wasn’t expecting. However, I didn’t get the representation I was seeking. Or I thought I didn’t. I was disappointed enough at the time to shelf the book and my writing for a while. Actually, real life more or less sapped my desire to write for a few years. It didn’t kill it. Just delayed the creativity. About the time my life settled and my interest in writing returned, I found the letter one of those agents sent me after my Mom died. To both my pleasure and my horror, I read a couple of sentences I’d missed the first time around and shook my head over the foolish girl I’d been. Not just once; but, twice.

While the beginning of that letter was undeniably a rejection, this well-known agent had ended her letter telling me if I’d fix a significant word-processing error in my manuscript she’d gladly represent me. Not only that, she was sure she could get me a contract. As much as I cringe thinking about that today, I wasn’t in any frame of mind to honor any contract she might have gotten me, so missing her offer was probably for the best.

Sadly, the world of publishing has changed greatly from the one I knew a couple of decades ago. I’ve spent the past couple of years trying to understand this strange new animal and I’ve reached the conclusion the best way to learn is to just do it. Put the book out there. Learn to blog. Learn the whole social media thing I’ve tried to ignore. Write my second non-fic. Throw a romance or two in the mix, slowly get my name out there, and build my following. In the end, all that really matters is I’m doing what I enjoy.

So, my final conclusion is, if I can do that…the dream hasn’t really died.

Calla MacKenna