Hello again, my friends. Yep, still here and still reading/writing. The two are synonymous right now as I'm doing a lot of beta reading and editing these days... for other people mostly but hey it's good practice. Right?
Today I want to direct you all to read a blog posted by Amazon (for those of you who haven't read it already at least). You can find it here... http://amazoniowan.livejournal.com/454574.html. She posted this nearly a week ago and it's taken me this long to read it. Very long week for which I owe a few people apologies and thank yous for putting up with me. But Amazon's post, while written to writers, is relevant for pretty much all of life. She's talking about that oh so wonderful little voice we all have that directs us towards caution but can get out of hand sometimes.
I've never been a risk taker... that voice had too much of a flavor of my parents to it and in my younger days I was the perpetual good girl. I never did anything wrong. Then again, I had to be pushed into trying anything as well. That included writing. I had a wonderful English teacher back then who really encouraged me... but I was a teenage girl who believed what was told to her. Go ahead, call me naive and I will fully admit it. So while the teacher was encouraging me I had my parents and the voice who wanted to protect me from being hurt by others' opinions of me and friends who thought I was competition in that arena. Only recently have I destroyed the 'critique' from one of those friends that made me abandon any thoughts of being a writer back then.
So, since then I've been the equivalent of Amazon's hiding in the closet with the colander. Thankfully I do not have the green plastic colander... that was my mother's. Even when I met my first true best friend eleven years ago and starting getting the flavor of support I needed it took a long time to accept my voices and work with them. I still tell them to fuck off on occasion rather than being more gentle as Amazon says. But I do have a teeny tiny stubborn streak on occasion. Oh, and I'm pretty sure for me it isn't voice but voices. Different flavors for whatever risk I'm considering at the time. The crying, bleeding girl when it's emotional. The glaring mother when it's physical. The ranting father for most everything else. Yeah, I'm least gentle with that last one... my father was the one who taught me to argue. No surprise to those of you who have met him, I'm sure. Go ahead, Webyeti, chime in on that one.
Reading Amazon's post really got me thinking about those voices. Yeah, I've known they were there and acknowleded them a long time ago. Too many psych classes in college not to then add my own curiosity and love of research on top of that. But I have realized that until a few months ago I never really dealt with them... just let them have their way. Until my life got spun around. Now I can't do that anymore. The potential paths I see laid out before me are definitely not going to let me hide and take zero risks. Am I scared? Hell yes. Just writing this is making me want to cry even with Dozer snuggling up to me. But to use an analogy related to my home town, that train is coming and there's no stopping it. So deal with it and do what ya gotta do.
Now, go read Amazon's post. Oh, and if you have any interest in her genre she has a new book out call Special Delivery. I just got my signed copy from her yesterday... and refrained from squealing out loud at least.
For those apologies they are owed to my heart brothers, the first for Webyeti. I'm sorry I dropped the news about Moof on you like I did... didn't want to upset you but I did want you to be the first to know. You were there when I got him and I know you loved him too. For Asrion who has put up with my moping this week. Your hugs and support kept me in one piece.
This dreary Sunday for which the forecasters are predicting yet more snow (I still swear someone's after a body count this winter), I'm off to read a couple folders of material I have from Amazon and Asrion. Snuggled up on my sofa with tea and Dozer sounds about perfect for the moment. The voices will be silent and I can gear up for the next round.
SK
Today I want to direct you all to read a blog posted by Amazon (for those of you who haven't read it already at least). You can find it here... http://amazoniowan.livejournal.com/454574.html. She posted this nearly a week ago and it's taken me this long to read it. Very long week for which I owe a few people apologies and thank yous for putting up with me. But Amazon's post, while written to writers, is relevant for pretty much all of life. She's talking about that oh so wonderful little voice we all have that directs us towards caution but can get out of hand sometimes.
I've never been a risk taker... that voice had too much of a flavor of my parents to it and in my younger days I was the perpetual good girl. I never did anything wrong. Then again, I had to be pushed into trying anything as well. That included writing. I had a wonderful English teacher back then who really encouraged me... but I was a teenage girl who believed what was told to her. Go ahead, call me naive and I will fully admit it. So while the teacher was encouraging me I had my parents and the voice who wanted to protect me from being hurt by others' opinions of me and friends who thought I was competition in that arena. Only recently have I destroyed the 'critique' from one of those friends that made me abandon any thoughts of being a writer back then.
So, since then I've been the equivalent of Amazon's hiding in the closet with the colander. Thankfully I do not have the green plastic colander... that was my mother's. Even when I met my first true best friend eleven years ago and starting getting the flavor of support I needed it took a long time to accept my voices and work with them. I still tell them to fuck off on occasion rather than being more gentle as Amazon says. But I do have a teeny tiny stubborn streak on occasion. Oh, and I'm pretty sure for me it isn't voice but voices. Different flavors for whatever risk I'm considering at the time. The crying, bleeding girl when it's emotional. The glaring mother when it's physical. The ranting father for most everything else. Yeah, I'm least gentle with that last one... my father was the one who taught me to argue. No surprise to those of you who have met him, I'm sure. Go ahead, Webyeti, chime in on that one.
Reading Amazon's post really got me thinking about those voices. Yeah, I've known they were there and acknowleded them a long time ago. Too many psych classes in college not to then add my own curiosity and love of research on top of that. But I have realized that until a few months ago I never really dealt with them... just let them have their way. Until my life got spun around. Now I can't do that anymore. The potential paths I see laid out before me are definitely not going to let me hide and take zero risks. Am I scared? Hell yes. Just writing this is making me want to cry even with Dozer snuggling up to me. But to use an analogy related to my home town, that train is coming and there's no stopping it. So deal with it and do what ya gotta do.
Now, go read Amazon's post. Oh, and if you have any interest in her genre she has a new book out call Special Delivery. I just got my signed copy from her yesterday... and refrained from squealing out loud at least.
For those apologies they are owed to my heart brothers, the first for Webyeti. I'm sorry I dropped the news about Moof on you like I did... didn't want to upset you but I did want you to be the first to know. You were there when I got him and I know you loved him too. For Asrion who has put up with my moping this week. Your hugs and support kept me in one piece.
This dreary Sunday for which the forecasters are predicting yet more snow (I still swear someone's after a body count this winter), I'm off to read a couple folders of material I have from Amazon and Asrion. Snuggled up on my sofa with tea and Dozer sounds about perfect for the moment. The voices will be silent and I can gear up for the next round.
SK
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