IWSG ~ Do You Believe?

About eight years ago I met up with some college friends for a mini-vacation. In so many ways my life was a complete train wreck. The migraines that I used to write about regularly on here were wildly out of control. My doctor was working on getting to the root of it all, but we weren't close yet. I was recently divorced, but my ex-husband was yanking my strings in ways that I couldn't even see. My job was circling the drain, as were my house and... well, pretty much everything.

In the midst of all that chaos, a novel idea reared its head and demanded to be let out. So, I started writing. I sent chapters to my mother and she really liked it. BUT, I didn't trust her words of encouragement. I mean, she is my mom. So, I brought my fledgling, extremely rough chapters to this meet-up of old college friends, hoping for words of encouragement.

It was harder than I expected to even get them to read a few pages. And then they were MEH after having done so.

I was crushed. My inspirational muse, which wouldn't give me a rest before this incident, left the building. I returned home and trashed the printed copies of my baby manuscript and told my muse if she came back I was going to Whoop Her Ass. (Pardon my language, but I want to get the facts right here.)

Approximately three years later, she came back with another story idea. Several, in fact. She plagued me with story ideas. My life was still a train wreck. The migraines were still debilitating. I did have a better handle on dealing with the ex. Turns out that saying "no" over and over works handily. The job and the house were gone and I was dependent on my mother. (Yeah, that sucked.) I started writing... again. This time, I almost made it through. There was so much about writing that I didn't know. For instance, you should write the end directly after the beginning. It's like a ticket for a plane ride. You must know where you leave from and where you will be landing. You also want to have some ideas about which attractions you want to see (the middle). Short story long, I never could make the middle connect to the end. I shelved it. This time I did not fling it into the trash can shouting curse words. I calmly put it in a box and muttered curse words.

Last year, that dratted muse infiltrated my home and brain again. She kept saying things like, "That first story idea you had was good. It was rough, but after you finish it, and polish it up, you will have something there." I rooted through my old laptop until I found the first chapter. That was all that remained. I know there were more, but they were up in smoke. I began again.

I am now starting Chapter 19 of a story that germinated back in 2007. This time I know so much more than I did then... and a large part is thanks to ALL OF YOU. I am more careful about who I allow to read my manuscript. I know that this is a rough draft. During the rough draft you get to write plot scenarios that only you love... but are actually crap. You get to make all of the mistakes on the rough draft. When one of my readers (who actually WANTS to read this thing knowing it is rough) says something like, "I didn't get the part when (insert scenario)" I make a note that it may need some revising for clarity.  The voices of my readers are just that... voices. They are offering an OPINION and I gladly accept it.

What I have learned is that they people who make it through this marathon.,and it is a marathon rather than a sprint, are the people who believe in themselves. They believe in their story. They accept that they might not be the best writer, but it is in them that the story lives. They forgive themselves for clumsy descriptions, weak verbs, repeated phrases, and plot holes. They cut themselves the necessary slack so that they are able to go back objectively and edit out that which doesn't work. Ultimately, they believe that the story is worth the time, sweat, and tears it takes to put it on paper. They believe in themselves. So, that is what I am doing right now. I am believing in me. I am embracing forgiveness. I am granting myself the liberty of error.

We all go through periods of doubt or disbelief, but if you stay there, your muse will snatch your beautiful story and whisk it away to another space and time.

As for me, I believe. Today, I believe.

What say you?

I am still trying to showcase all of the romantic clips I collected (and are waiting in my Favorites) from YouTube. I think this one goes nicely with this post. Believing is the hardest part, but the BEST. I hope you have time to give it a watch!

**********

I am tagging all of these Love Is In The Air (even though the hop is over) and the following is a list of all the posts with links, so that you can watch any of your favorites that you missed.

Moonlighting 

Roswell - Michael and Maria

P.S. I Love You

The Gilmore Girls

Buffy/Angel and Firefly/Serenity

Grey's Anatomy (dedicated to Unicorn Bell)

Lois and Clark (Smallville) and Some Kind of Wonderful

When Harry Met Sally and The Way We Were
The Princess Bride and Serendipity 

Castle and Firefly 

Gossip Girl (Chuck and Blair) and 10 Things I Hate About You 
Veronica Mars and The Notebook 

Felicity 

Alias and Fringe 

Lost

Back at the beginning of this thing I asked YOU to share what you think are the most romantic moments on the big and small screen. I posted four of them over the weekend. I will still post them if you share in the comments!

Speaking of comments, some of your comments crack me up! Over the weekend I ran all movies and several of you indicated you'd never seen those TV shows. Hahahaha. I realize I must be more clear about what I am posting, since I am doing both.

************



Did you see the parallels? Molly's belief in an idea that she very much wanted to be true faltered visibly. Rational thinking says that is is unrealistic. (The way many of us feel about the possibility of ever publishing our baby.) And then hope flares up and belief ignites and the magic happens. Believing is a powerful thing. It is also a fragile thing, so wrap yours in love and hold on.


I encourage you to visit the Insecure Writer's Support Group page so that you can read other people's posts and offer sage advice or just a bit of encouragement. You can even join the group by adding your name to the Linky List. Click here.

Thank you to Alex J. Cavanaugh for founding this wonderful group. Also...the awesome co-hosts today are Sheena-kay Graham, Julie Musil, Jamie Ayres, and Mike Swift! Please be sure to thank them for their time and effort to make all IWSG members feel welcome.

SAVE MAGIC TONIGHT

I decided to go ahead and do my Saturday post today. I am still sick, so you might actually benefit by reading a shorter than usual post. lol. Colds are just nasty. Unless they actually turn into an infection, there really is not much you can do. Soup, rest, water, over the counter medicine, blah blah blah. Mostly it is just letting the darn thing run its course. Or wait for it to turn into something bacterial that requires an antibiotic, so that you can actually get better. It is enough to make you crazy. In my case, crazier. I have my appt with the regular doctor that social security assigned me to see on Tuesday. I am fairly certain that I will still be sick as a dog. That will be lovely. Well, there is no point in worrying about what you cannot control.

Yesterday, I spent some time thinking about song for Inspirational song day and cruising around Youtube. I found a few things and saved them into my favorites. As I was contemplating this post, I thought about the jingle for Alka Seltzer. Right now, that is really about the only thing resonating with me, and that is not my over-the-counter brand of choice. I take Nyquil every six hours. Dayquil sucks. However, I like the song for Alka Seltzer. It made me realize that I miss jingles. They don't do jingles so much anymore for commercials. It is pretty much talking with music in the background. That is kind of sad. More commentary on how we are changing as a society.

Anyway, I didn't have a hard time coming up with my Inspirational To Me song at all. I have liked it for a long time. I had not watched the video until yesterday and I LOVED IT. I had to watch it a couple of times. I hope that you like it, too.



Sometimes, the answer is just showing up. You don't have to have any of the answers. Anyway, great song and great video.

When I decided to feature The Cars this week I had no idea what I would find on Youtube. I was surprised that so many of their songs were available. In fact, a lot of their songs from the late 70s are now on video and called Classics. I had their Greatest Hits on cassette tape and it was one of my favorites. When I went to college, it was about a seven hour drive home. That meant a lot of music shuffled in and out of my cassette deck. I loved that Greatest Hits tape by The Cars. The first track was JUST WHAT I NEEDED and was probably my favorite. In fact, I liked their earlier stuff best. However, for the sake of showcasing what was playing on MTV in the early 80s I should stick with what was actually playing then.

Before I started looking anything up, I did a mental review to see what I could remember. The song that came immediately to mind was the one where the lead singer was walking on the water in the pool. I couldn't think of the name of the song. This could be old age or my migraine issues... not sure which. I remember watching that video intently whenever it came on to figure out how they did that. I finally decided that there must have been panels of glass that he was standing on. I don't know with any degree of certainty how they actually did it, but that is what my teenage brain deduced. Turns out that the song is called MAGIC. So, the concept of a guy walking on water is actually pretty cool. I could continue to tell you about it or just let you watch it...




Also in keeping with their stuff that was playing about the same time period is this one. What I like about both of these videos is that they aren't concert vids. They understood what MTV was all about as a forum and used it. This makes me want to go digging through all of my old cassette tapes to find The Cars Greatest Hits. I have just been hit by nostalgia. Well, while I am thinking about that, we can watch this...



Well, I have thought about it. That is a lot of work. And I have youtube. I think I will just watch more Cars videos. It will be just what I needed.

DAY 23: DEAR LAST KISS

Dear Last Kiss,

I don't know where to begin with this letter. You came into my life shortly after Flash made his exit. I really wasn't ready to date anyone. However, I knew your mother and your sister from working my little part-time job, and your sister was really juiced about setting us up when she discovered I kicked Flash to the curb. Honestly, I was really looking forward to just being single. Despite all that, I agreed to meet you. And here is the thing: you were really nice. In fact, I am sure you are still really nice. In lots of ways, you are the ideal man.

You own your own home (no house payment). You own your own vehicle (no car payment). You are a supervisor at your company, and have worked there for 20 years approximately (steady job and can soon retire from there, even though you are in your early 40s). You have no kids and have never been married. You are nice looking. Seriously, there is nothing wrong with you. You smoke. That is the one fault I can pick at. You smoke. Other than that, I got nothing. However, you never smoke in the house or the car or around me. So, even that is weak.

Our biggest problem was there just wasn't any chemistry. That is a magical element that is just there or it isn't. I really wanted to "like like" you because you were the perfect guy. Seriously. I have never gone out with anyone who was more "together" than you. And there was absolutely nothing in the sizzle department. It didn't help that my mom's first comments were how much you reminded her of my brother. She was so right about that. That upped the weirdo factor enormously right off the bat. However, I was fairly determined to try and stick it out. My theory was that if you really liked someone maybe the chemistry thing would just suddenly kick in. I can't say that I proved or disproved that theory. However, I am leaning toward the idea that it doesn't work that way. You either got it from the start or you don't.

It didn't help that we really didn't have anything in common. Being with you reminded me just how important shared interests really are. It is terrible having to suffer through someone else's interests all of the time and vice versa. Having no common ground makes it really difficult to enjoy doing anything together. You spend 40% of your free time in an activity that you dislike (and that goes both ways). That is awful. Eventually, you just start begging off of the thing that they want to do and let them do it alone. And they do the same. You spend all of your really "fun" time with other people doing the things you really like to do. Well, that just sucks.

Honestly, I don't remember that last kiss. I really don't remember any of our kisses that well, because they just didn't set the house afire. Yeah, we are back to that whole chemistry issue again. What can I say? This relationship didn't last all that long. In fact, the part that I remember best was the ending, and that is only because it was so funny. You asked me for your garage door opener because the one you gave your mom wasn't working right. It was no skin off my nose, since I never used your garage door opener. I asked if you were going to come inside and watch some TV, which was usually the case if you came over. You declined. That was odd, but I really didn't think much of it. I then asked you to call me and let me know about your niece's delivery the next day. When I didn't hear from you, I called. You said that she and the baby were fine and got off the phone asap. I saw your sister the following day and she said that the baby was NOT fine and was in critical condition, and she was worried sick. Mind you, this was her grandson, and she was out of her mind with worry. It was at that moment, that I realized you had broken up with me by way of the garage door opener. The fact that I was fine with that, and actually laughed about it all the way home, indicates that you made the right choice. The only thing that bothered me was that you lied about the baby. I guess you REALLY didn't want to talk to me. When you are done, you're done. I'm glad that you think so much of yourself that you think I was gonna break down and beg you to stay. I suppose that is an indicator of a healthy self-esteem. Or an indicator that you don't know me well at all. Either way, it's turned out as it was meant to.

Still Chuckling About That Garage Door Opener,
Robin


image shaken down from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos

We interrupt this blog

because today's letter would be redundant. Day 13 is who do you want to forgive you. I have put a great deal of thought into this one. There are a few people out there harboring grudges, but most of those people, in my opinion, don't have anything to be angry about. Or they may already be over it and just don't want to be friends. If that is the case, I share the sentiment. They were not good to me and I don't need them in my life. I don't wish them ill; mostly I don't think about them at all. In fact, pretty much not at all until I was looking into every corner of my brain to find someone for this letter.


The only person that I really feel like this could possibly apply to is my friend Jennifer from college. In fact, I wrote her a fairly lengthy letter last fall (4 pages) and made her a mix CD. The letter still sits on my bureau and the mix CD is in my travel bag. I love it. I know that there is something wrong with that picture. I have mentally skated around this one for about a year now, and I have come to understand that this is where this relationship was going to end no matter what. I feel really badly about bailing on her when I did, but I realize that I was going to bail. I have called and left messages on her phone four or five times, and she's not returning my calls, so.... I would venture to say that she is done. And she is still involved with the abusive boyfriend. That would mean that since 1993 she has chained herself to abusive men. How long can a person watch that and hear about it before they have to walk away? When you love someone, their hurt is your hurt, and it would have been daggers into my soul. Being with my ex for three years darn near sent me to the grave. Three years. I don't know how she is still standing. And she doesn't want help. So, there is no letter here that would fix anything. What would I say? I am sorry I left when I did, however it was going to happen eventually, but call me when you break up with your abuser? That would just piss her off. So, it is what it is. We will just stick with it where it is. I miss her. The old her. A person that probably doesn't exist anymore because her spirit has been crushed into something unrecognizable. Moving on...

Carol the Gardener said she missed my regular posts. The letters were nice and all, but she preferred the way my blog used to roll... or something like that. The way my blog used to roll was anything goes, for those of you who are new. Anything can happen and sometimes did! Mostly it was me just spewing out whatever was on my mind that day. That week. That month. Before I got into the letter thing, I was doing some actual BlogTherapy on myself. For Real. When I called this blog, Blog Therapy I was talking more about just being able to speak freely. Well, as it turned out, it became actual Therapy. And all of you became the Therapists. Very.Big.Important.Job. The letters went hand in hand with it, which is why I took them on. Don't know if I have shared that I have cried through the writing of most of them. Not all, but most. So, I think it's working.


On occasion, I have shared my dreams here. Well, I had this dream a couple of nights ago and I have been DYING to tell you guys about it. But there was Song Saturday and the letter yesterday and no one reads blogs on the weekends. So, finally my opportunity has arrived. *sigh* Taking a deep breath. Letting it out. Unlike some people, I have fairly vivid dreams. The last thing that happens, as you might imagine, I remember best. The further back I go, the less details I can remember. This one was so intriguing that I jumped carefully got out of bed, and dragged myself into my parents' office. Of course, they had been awake for hours. I had to tell them about this dream. I should have gone back to my room and written it down in my dream journal ~ pronto ~ but I was tired and went back to bad. Mental head smack! Okay, here it is...

Back up. Do you remember my dream about my h.s. friend who was on fire? If not, you can read that one here. He was in this dream, too. Not so surprising this time. I had sent him an email about My Idea, so he was on my mind. When I told him about the fire dream, he told me he had a dream about a group of friends (me included) going to college together. For the record, none of us went to college together. Moving forward again.


Scene 1 My high school drama teacher, MKB, and I are poring over my schedule for my freshman year of college. I am having difficulty with it. In this scenario, I am majoring in theatre instead of music (something I now wish I had done), and am trying to find a way to balance out my core classes and my theatre classes. One of the problems is the Intro to Theatre class. MKB is teaching theatre at my college. As I get frustrated with it, she tells me to skip it. She will sign off on it. I don't need that class. Just take the next required class b/c that is really where I should be starting anyway. Now my schedule works out. *More importantly, MKB was the first person who overtly believed in me in high school. I owe her a great deal because she changed my life. Because she believed in me, I believed in me, too.


Scene 2 Still in college, but at a council meeting of some kind. I am not on the council, but I am watching. One of my friends from hs is on the council. He is a person who frustrates me now on facebook. I have seen him be very argumentative with other people from hs in their status boxes when they don't share his opinion. He can get pretty ugly about it. He considers himself to be a Christian, but he is very political and in your face about the whole thing. However, he has sent me email saying things like he doesn't understand why people don't want to be his friend. He thinks he is respectful of other people's views, but others are not respectful of his. I believe that he believes what he is saying. He is very blind to his own actions. I suggested that he stop talking about religion and politics since they are hot topics. He might be greeted with more friendliness. In this meeting, every time another council person says something to which he objects, he mutters loudly something to the effect that it is crap. BS, that person can't think straight. And on and on and on. *It was another reminder that people's views on religion and politics are pretty well set in stone. Trying to change them is a waste of time. Arguing about them doesn't do anything but isolate you. The worst thing you can do to get someone to consider your opinion on anything is to be disrespectful of theirs.

Scene 3 MKB, The Burning Man, and I are sitting in the hall at college. This wasn't my college or high school campus. It reminds me now of the high school where Rory Gilmore went on Gilmore Girls. It was grandiose. Big staircase and marble floors. MKB was doing most of the talking. She was saying how sad it was that every time she turned around that the buildings were getting closer and closer. She directed our attention to the closest window and indicated that there was no view. All you could see was another building.


We were then outside and she pointed to Something in the sky and said how much she liked looking at it. She then pointed to a park bench and said that she used to spend hours on that park bench enjoying that view. We all walked to the park bench. A building had been put up between the Something and the park bench. She couldn't see it anymore from the bench. She asked us what a person should do in that situation. I don't know remember if it was The Burning Man or me, but someone suggested finding another park bench that still had a view of the Something. That was the right answer. *This was about overcoming problems. I think she was saying that into every life problems are going to fall. Or happen. And it is ongoing. The people who succeed are the people who are problem solvers. You have to get creative. You can sit on the park bench and bemoan your lack of the view that you used to have OR you can find another park bench. It is as simple and as difficult as that. The next park bench won't be as familiar to you or as lovely. It won't have the memories that the old one had. Yeah, that sucks. So, you have to choose. What is more important? Was it the bench you loved or the view? You don't always have to choose one or the other. In some cases, you can have both. The bench or the view. You just don't get them simultaneously anymore.


Scene 4 The first part of this is just me at some kind of function where there is a bunch of food laid out. Make that desserts. I am not a sweets eater. I pretty much always take a pass on dessert. Or I will eat a little something. In this case, it all looked wonderful. So good that I had two plates full of nothing but desserts. I topped the last one off with donuts. When I dream about donuts, I know what is happening. *For me, dreaming about sweets means that I am STRESSED OUT. I only crave sweet stuff when my adrenal gland is getting really blasted my brain for cortisol (the stress hormone). Of course, my adrenal gland really doesn't work anymore, so it is borrowing from my other hormones, making my hormonal imbalance worse, making my migraines worse, making my pain worse, making my stress worse, making the circle of pain worse. When I dream about sweets and donuts, I am STRESSED TO THE MAX. That is a sign to me that I must do WHATEVER IT TAKES to bring me back down to earth.


Scene 4 Cont. After I walked me and my two plates of desserts over to a chair. Why don't they have tables at events like these? How am I going to eat all of this crap when there is no table? I sit my plates on the floor. They never did get touched by my lips, btw. As soon as I sat down, I got really cold. So cold, that from out of nowhere I produced a blanket and wrapped myself in it. Sort of like one those things you put a mental patient in. My mind is gone and I can't think of the word. Anyway, turns out that what we were there for was a magic show. Yay. The Burning Man was the magician. He was producing balls of light out of nowhere and people were catching them and holding them in their hands. They were beautiful. He sent one my way, but I couldn't catch it, because I was all tied up in my blanket. So, it hit my shoulder and rolled off. At that point, I started struggling to free myself from the blanket. Finally, I was rid of the blanket. He sent another ball my way and I was able to catch it. Of course, when I caught it, I understood that it wasn't real. It was an illusion. It had no substance to it. *Of course, there is the message that magic is an illusion. Always was, always will be. What was important here is that you can't catch any of the good things life sends your way if you are all bound up. You have to have your hand stretched out wide open in order to get the good stuff. I think it was more about playing it safe versus taking chances. You can play it safe and stay huddled in your blanket. Or you can live wide, with your hands held out, ready to grab hold of everything beautiful heading your way.


Naturally, I am open to your interpretation of my dream. Or just your thoughts on whatever. I love your comments.


images found at www.weheartit.com

I'M LISTENING

Where do you do your best thinking?  I do some of my best thinking in the shower.  Of course, I went in there today with the intent to ponder what to say to an old friend in an email and came out with an idea for this blog.  Hmmmm.  Life works in mysterious ways.  I'm still stuck on the email, but I remembered this great life lesson I got at St. Martin's Press.  I started working there right out of college and I pretty much knew nothing.  You're thinking, "Yeah right."  No, I had a degree in English but in terms of workability I was fairly useless. We were still using typewriters for the most part.  We had computers but they were NOTHING like what we have now.  There is also a very long story about the publicity department that I got hired into but that isn't the point of this blog.  Let's just say the entire department had quit but for four people and I was the first new hire so it was empty in there.  I was working for the director of the department.  First day she asks me to type a letter and I walk back to my desk and think, "Oh crap, now what?"  I had no idea how to format a letter.  That's what I mean when I say useless.  I snagged a senior publicist into helping me format the dumb thing, kept a copy in my top drawer for future reference, and somehow managed to bumble my way through.  Again, none of this is my life lesson.  Now, you're thinking, "Seriously????"  Yes.  Seriously.  That was just me being a kid.

Here is the good part.  We got calls all the time on the phone.  We fielded all of the calls from the general public as well the media calls plus internal stuff.  That is a lot of phone time.  Now, throw all of that at someone who can't format a letter but who has a good heart and really wants to help.  Sometimes very angry people call.  I can't remember the details of why this woman was angry.  What I do remember is that she was a volcano on the verge of explosion.  She was not general public.  She was inside our building.  She was an internal call.  She could press a button and be on my floor.  I didn't have the answers she wanted.  I was a peon person.  I was a nobody.  And I only understood about a quarter of what she saying because she was speaking New York on the phone very fast, and I knew that if I told her that I couldn't understand her that she might hunt me down and kill me.  I think she hung up on me, and I said a prayer of thanksgiving.  I also took a message for my boss, Claudia, and hand delivered it when she came in.  Claudia was only 5 feet tall and about 90 pounds soaking wet, and I feared this woman could crush her without even trying hard.  She was very scary.

I told Claudia about the phone call, and she told me to sit down.  She then said that she would tell me the secret to handling all irate people in the future.  She said I might want to write this down.  Indeed I did.  I pulled out my notepad and pen.  She said, "I'm listening."  I waited.  When she said nothing else, I looked up.  "That's it.  You can cushion it with other stuff if you want but that's all you really need.  All people need is to know that they are being heard.  Many times they know that you can't solve their problem.  They just need to share it.  Other times they just need someone to actually listen to them so that they can be pointed to the person who can solve their problem.  The thing is that people don't listen anymore.  You can turn a lion into a kittycat just by using those two words.  It's magic.  Try it."

She was right.  It works like a charm.  Everyone who deals with the general public will make their own lives so much easier just by saying, "I'm listening," and then doing it.  That ranting, crazy person will turn into your sweet aunt or grandma or sister.  If you find yourself turning into a raving maniac, stop talking and start thinking about who is not listening to you that you need to have listen to you.  I hate those automated machines that make you press a gadzillion numbers before you can talk to a live voice, because by the time I get to a live person I am that volcano that is ready to blow.  I know it, and I can't seem to help myself.  To top it off I get to hear the recording that my call might be recorded....egads.

There is a reason that so many people are in therapy.  We all just want to be heard.  So,  the next time you are lucky enough to be on the other end of someone else's rant you now have access to those magic words, "I'm listening."