Commitment

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A Writer’s Valentine

My passion is writing romance. I grew up on boy meets girl stories. I watch romantic movies, read romance novels, and write happily ever after stories. For years, I’ve been a member of Romance Writers of America©.  Most of my close friends read and/or write romance.  Finally, and most important, I have been married to my own true hero for well over thirty years.

I should be able to come up with a unique and heartfelt way to say “I love you” on Valentine’s Day.  What can I give him?  And what will he give me?

As I ponder the questions, I don’t imagine that he’ll bring home a bouquet of long-stemmed roses.  That’s okay. I carried white roses on my wedding day. In our years together, he’s brought home roses for birthdays and illnesses, for Valentine’s Day, and sometimes for nothing special.  Nothing special flowers are best of all.  There are times when a soul aches for roses, but not now.

With Valentine’s Day on a Monday, we have no plans for a dinner of prime rib and champagne in a candlelit restaurant.  While the setting is romantic, it is winter, bitter cold, and we’ll both be tired from work.  I’m thinking crock-pot soup, sandwiches, and a Netflix movie.  Sounds nice, doesn’t it?

We’re beyond buying silly ties and heart-patterned socks and pj’s. There was a time for that, true.  But no more.  Chocolate truffles and bon-bons are out, too.  I’ve managed to lose over fifty pounds this past year.  I feel better than I have in decades.  I’d like to keep it off for me, and for him.

So what will I give him for Valentine’s Day?  I believe I’ll tell him –

~ for all the compliments you’ve given me, deserved or not, boosting my fragile ego

~ for the three sons we created and raised together

~ for trudging off to work in frigid pre-dawn hours, day after day, year after year

~ for the thousands of conversations we’ve had and will keep having until we can no longer talk

~ for the many many adventures we’ve shared

~ for championing the good causes and being my hero

Yes, quite simply I’ll say…for all that and more, I love you.  ∞

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The Will to Write

The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will. — Vince Lombardi

Legendary Green Bay Packers’ Coach Vince Lombardi understood success and he understood what it took to achieve it.  It takes willpower to coach a team to the SuperBowl and win – twice.  Willpower, and always keeping an eye on the ultimate goal.

It also takes willpower to write and publish a book then another, and another.  Raw, butt-breaking, stick-to-it willpower.   Best-selling author Madeline Hunter once said that she had never seen a writer who persevered not eventually publish. Since then, I have observed others and seen first-hand the truth of her words.  Writers who persevere do eventually publish.

When I think on my experiences in writing my first book, I’m awed that I ever finished it. It was a daunting job, even with the assistance of a decent critique group.  My second book came easier.  My third, written in only eight months, seemed even simpler, although the middle is still mush.  Perhaps if I had pushed myself harder to polish and actually sell those early efforts, I would have had more success with those that followed.  But, somewhere along the way I let life intrude.  Again, again and yet again. 😦

About a year ago I received a medical wake-up call.  It made me examine my life and where I was headed.  I started eating healthier. Over the next several months, I lost a whole lot of weight, and gained a whole new wardrobe. 😀   My husband and I had long talked about a dream trip.  In October we flew to Paris.  But where is my writing in all of this?  It can’t just sit idle.

I’ve had this innate need to write for too long to let it just fade into oblivion.  I won’t allow my obituary to say “An amateur writer, she wrote several novels that were never published.”  I ache to churn out characters and stories that will not just lie buried in some computer file, but will be read and enjoyed by many.

So I’m writing again, daily.  My newly created characters are talking to me.  They’re taking actions that reveal who they are.  They’re getting into trouble.  Forcing me to plot just how I’m going to get them to the point where they finally declare their love.  Just now I’d be thrilled if they’d even talk to each other in a civil manner.  Regardless of the grief they cause, I am writing about their lives and will continue until their story is told.

I will finish this book.   Writers who persevere do eventually publish. ∞



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Book in a Week

Reading about the RWA Kiss of Death Chapter‘s online Book in a Week (BIAW) gave me a tingle.   The timing looked perfect. It would start on Post-Thanksgiving Monday, a work holiday for me.  I haven’t written much this year.  Could be a much needed jump start.

Registering was easy enough.  So was reading the KOD online article archive.  Patricia Rosemoor graciously hosted Sunday’s pre-workshop.  Motivating!

On Monday morning, I rose early.  Of course, before I could start writing I had some chores to finish from the weekend but they wouldn’t take long.

When I finally sat down at my computer, I stared at a blank screen.  No surprise.  Despite Sunday’s strongly worded advice, I still had no inkling what storyline I wanted to pursue.  As a historical writer, I wasn’t even sure about the time period.  I took a deep breath, grabbed my coat, and flew out to visit some thrift stores.

Sometime around 1:30 pm, hunger called.  I pulled into a diner parking lot then picked up my purse and one of the books I’d just bought as an aid to motivation.  Inside, as I waited for my salad, November’s sun poured through the window. I flipped open the pages of the suspense and started reading.  Along with my delicious salad, I was soon wolfing down the story.  It had been ages since words tasted so good!

A long time later, I walked back out to my car.  An idea began to emerge. (Cue Alleluia music!)

Yesterday I wrote just over 2,300 words.  I’m posting this in my blog because I need to share, to shout it aloud.  I’m writing the post on my lunch hour so I’ll have tonight free to devote to my story.  Feels good to say that again.

Wish me well.  ∞

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Twilight Zone

“You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension – a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You’ve just crossed over into…the Twilight Zone.” ~ Rod Serling

From a young age, I was a fan. After bedtime, I’d sneak onto the top of the night stairs and sit in silence as Twilight Zoneolder family members watched the program below on our black and white TV.  Down the hall in our shared bedroom, my younger sister slept.  But in the darkness of that stairwell I sat entranced by Rod Serling’s hypnotic voice as he introduced the latest episode.

There was magic in the stories.  In later years I’d grow to appreciate the scripts with their social commentary.  But at age 8 or 9 there was only the wonder of ordinary people being thrown into extraordinary circumstances.   Along with the fairy tales Mom once read aloud, The Twilight Zone best revealed to my young mind the miraculous art of storytelling.

For years now, I’ve struggled with invisible demons.  What has kept me from publishing?  DoorI want my stories to be bound into books, to be read and enjoyed.  I believe I have it in me to succeed.  Yet, like an actor who fears the stage, just when I’m close I step away.  Is it fear?  Fear of the bogeymen that hide in the forest of publishing?  Am I afraid of the doorway I must enter?

Last month I flew home to visit family, and to attend a conference.  While there I talked in depth with my little sister, the one who once slept through The Twilight Zone.  (Just as well; she was only 3 or 4 at the time.  :wink:)  I also talked with a dear friend, a fellow writer who has gone forward, even as I’ve held back.  Both of them chewed me out and both, like others before them, encouraged.

Soon after my flight home, I saw that for a long while I’ve been unhappy with what I’ve been trying to write.  To publish I must change, wholeheartedly and without reservation.  To rediscover the excitement I once knew, I must cross into another dimension, one that calls to me.

My new work-in-progress is more than a new plot, new characters.  Though still technically a romance, it represents a genre change, one I read but have never attempted to write.   Revitalized, I am writing.   And, if my courage holds, if I maintain the perseverance a published author needs, then my journey into this new dimension may mean success.  ∞

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Rebirth

Spring is here. Last week I saw my first robins.  On Wednesday,yellow-flowers-0042 a volunteer from the American Cancer Society delivered bunches of daffodils for their annual fundraiser – Daffodil Days.  On Friday, the letters in the google header were shaped like pieces of fruit with a hungry caterpillar eating his way through.  This morning, as I walked through our yard, I saw that the forsythia and weigela now bear tiny buds.   The air has a new smell today, a fragrant fresh scent enjoyed but once a year.  All sure signs that spring is here.

It is fitting that our youngest son chose March 21st for his westward move.  A time of change, of rebirth.  Late this afternoon he leaves for California, flying 2,849 miles across the country to seek his fortune in his chosen field.  Our oldest son and his spouse live there, loved ones to welcome and watch over him for a spell, to acclimate him to his new city.  To provide a roof and bed until he finds his own place.  I’m glad they’ll be together.

We give them roots to grow, and wings to fly.   But it is still a bittersweet time for us.  He’s so happy about the move.  It’s what he wants, what he needs.  But must the country be so very wide?

yellow-flowers-012His move has spurred a wave of spring de-cluttering in our house.  He’s lived away since college but, like many, left rooms filled with remnants of his youth.  We’ve been cleaning, sorting, making way for other remnants he’s accumulated and has now hauled home from his nearby apartment.  Things he wants shipped once he’s established, or stored until…whenever.  Surprisingly, it’s all given me a new energy.  Energy to clean.

Energy to write.  I find myself once more waking in the middle of the night with thoughts of manuscripts yet unfinished, of characters who cry out to be heard.  I stumble to my computer and my fingers fly.   Over the winter, writing has been a struggle.   Manuscripts suffered.  But strangely enough, with our son’s imminent move in this brilliant budding spring, I feel alive.  Reborn.  Maybe his driving ambition has spilled over to his mother.  One can only hope.

Godspeed, my dear son.

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Defending Marriage

Romance novels are about relationships, about two people overcoming obstacles and working to establish trust. Romance Writers of America (RWA), writes that in a romance lovers “risk and struggle for each other…and are rewarded with emotional justice and unconditional love.” In a romance novel, with its happily-ever-after outlook, the story often ends with a marriage, or at least the promise of one.

sf-july-2008-1202I am a romance writer. I write about romance because I believe in it just as surely I believe in marriage. I believe that life is better because of romance, and it is better because of marriage. Finding one’s soul mate is not an easy task. Pledging lifelong love and commitment to that person is truly wondrous.

Why then are so many supposedly religious folk denying others the joy and permanance that comes from the marriage vow? In the name of their God? What sort of God denies any person’s love for another?

On Tuesday, California passed Proposition 8. In doing so, a small majority enforced their religious beliefs on the rest of the state. I believe it was an act of intolerance, ignorance, and fear. It marked those in the gay and lesbian community as unworthy of marriage.

Not so many years ago, other states banned interracial marriages. Courts bastardized children born of such unions. Parents could be, and were at times, jailed for a simple act of love. Eventually, however, as Civil Rights took root and reason prevailed, courts began to see the light. The laws were declared unjust and people who loved one another – Black, White, or Asian – could legally wed.

However hurtful, I believe this latest assault on the right to marry in California (and other states) is simply one more temporary setback. Like the Civil Rights movement, the marches and protests must, and will, continue until society sees the light. As in a romance novel, there will be a struggle, but there will also be a happily-ever-after for those who love.