I’ve been having a pull-back week this week. It’s kind of like a mental health day, only longer. On emotional overload after my uncle’s funeral, and after seemingly every one of my close friends has had some kind of crisis, I finally had to pull back. To limit phone calls and emails and invitations in order to process some of what I’ve taken in. Death often causes us to do this. To look at how we’re living, to see if we have our priorities straight and our “house in order,” even to the extent of updating our wills and health care powers-of-attorney.

Before I learned about the death of my uncle, I had been struggling with a career decision. An agent expressed interest in my first book, Thinking About Therapy. She wanted to try to sell it to a mainstream publisher–every self-published author’s dream–except that, in her opinion, re-marketing it would require pulling it off my website. At first glance, it seemed like a no-brainer. I could have an agent! One who doesn’t intimidate me, is passionate about my topics, and returns my phone calls.

On the other hand, I had a visceral reaction when she mentioned pulling the book, especially after the enormous effort that went into redesigning my website last fall. Add to that the fact that I’m getting some traction on various fronts online, and the timing felt completely off. It would have meant switching gears, perhaps even backtracking. In the end I decided to decline the offer, although we left the door open for working together on future projects.

Then, this week, the webmaster for an online magazine for women responded to my request to blog on their site. A few weeks ago they had put out the word that they were looking for bloggers, and, in a high-energy moment, I had signed up. They sent me an application, and asked if I was interested in writing a regional or national blog. As my husband likes to say, “Is that a trick question?” Don’t all writers want as much exposure as possible? At any rate, the application asked me to explain what I thought I could offer to their readers.

Isn’t it amazing how hearing the right question can set your brain straight to the task of answering it? Part of my emotional funk this week has been due to a lack of focus. Self-published authors face a dizzying list of shoulds. In order to build an audience and sell books, we are told that we should blog, set up book signings and speaking engagements, send out books for review, write magazine pitches and sell articles, create book trailers, mine the web. And, oh, by the way, write the next book. I’m guilty of switching haplessly from one to the other, sometimes getting overwhelmed in the process.

Which brings me back to the “What can I offer?” question. I know the big-picture answer because I’ve done a lot of work in this area and I have a personal mission statement: “To inspire others to live a more joyful, purposeful life.” I want to share my personal experiences with other people, particularly women, in the hopes of saving them some of the emotional struggles that I’ve been through.

I just needed to be asked the question again. Refocused, I know where to put my efforts going forward. I have a feeling that, as a result, next week is going to be one of those pull-ahead weeks.

As Greg Anderson says in his uplifting book Living Life on Purpose, “You have a mission in your life…Truly, the world has need of you…You are here, now, where you are, how you are, given the personality you have, with the unique abilities you possess because this is your moment to contribute to the world.” 

How about you? What can you offer to the world? Do you need a pull-back week to figure it out?

Take all the time you need. We’ll wait.

I’m having a super busy week–a good kind of busy–so over the next few days I’m going to post a three-part blog I originally published at www.triangleareafreelancers.org.

People often come to freelance writing later in life and from other careers. Some switch from other writing fields, such as technical writing. Others have done business writing, including press releases and marketing materials, as part of their job. Exposure to a variety of knowledge bases can be a boon for a freelancer. The more exposure you have to the world, the more you have to write about.

But one pitfall for beginning freelancers is that they often don’t see themselves as writers. New members who come to our group often say the same thing. “I’m not really a writer—I don’t have anything published.”

Although some people have a more natural aptitude than others, thankfully, writing is primarily a learned skill: the more you write, the better you get. There is no acid test to determine whether you are, or are not, a writer. You are a writer if you write.

But thinking of yourself as a writer is a critical step towards being one. If you’re not there yet, you can borrow a role-playing technique psychotherapists use to help people get a jump-start on learning new behaviors. It’s called “acting as if” (known in laymen’s terms as “Fake it until you make it.”)

For example, if you’re uncomfortable in social situations, you can “act as if” you are extroverted. You can walk into a room of strangers, make solid eye contact, introduce yourself, give a firm handshake, and smile warmly at everyone.

People are funny. If they see something that “walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck,” they think it’s a duck. If you appear to be outgoing, they assume you’re outgoing. If you appear to be a writer, they assume you’re a writer.

One of my favorite anecdotes from Sue Monk Kidd’s Firstlight, which is a collection of her early inspirational writings, is her description of how she announced to the world that she was going to become a writer. (She had had a long career as a nurse.) “The world” turned out to be her husband and two-year-old, who were sitting at the breakfast table eating cereal. Her point was that she had decided.

If you’ve decided you want to be a writer, start “acting as if” — by doing the things that writers do. Establish a space in your home to write, buy writers’ magazines, join a writers’ group, take a writing class, talk to people about what you’re writing, and most importantly, write!

(more…)

“Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.”
                                                                                         Daniel Francoiseprit Auber

My mother said a funny thing the other day. She was frustrated that her sewing machine was acting up, and she said, “I know I threaded it right. I’ve been doing it for centuries.” She’s nearly 90, and it probably does feel to her like she’s been doing some things for centuries.
 
Her machine has been giving her trouble since she had it serviced a month ago, but she sounded defensive, as if I would question her skills. The thought hadn’t occurred to me, and I wondered at first why she felt the need to explain herself.

It made me think about what it must truly be like to be her age, to have people question what she is doing and how she is doing it. Even without Alzheimers, older people become aware that, over time, they are losing the ability to do things they once knew how to do.

As we watch our parents age, it’s easy to get impatient. We experience the changes in terms of how they affect us. They start to repeat themselves. They lose things. They don’t pay their bills. They forget to take their medications. They become, for us, like another one of our children, and we begin to speak to them in the same hassled tone.

We truly forget that it will happen to us one day too. And it will, if we live long enough. There’s no getting around it. Imagine for one minute what it must actually feel like to have your child treat you as if you were the child. To have them remind you of things, explain things to you, drive you places, speak to people on your behalf.

I’m going to try to hold that picture in my head the next time I visit my mom.

This week I’ve been consoling a friend who is having trouble with his teenager. Normally an optimistic guy, his recent late-night emails reveal the depth of his sadness and frustration. I have been there, with both of my kids, and I wrote a lot of desperate emails to friends, too. The writing helps, and the supportive responses help more.

When my daughter was in the hormone-filled middle school years, she sometimes wrote me notes when she was too upset to speak to me. Sometimes they were scribbled on paper and left on my pillow, and sometimes they were emails. It sounds crazy—there we were in the same house—but you know how it is when the emotion runs so high that you can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.

She is the one who always initiated the notes. To be honest, I never thought about writing to her. But it worked. She explained things I didn’t know about the stress she was under at school or about issues with her friends that were spilling over onto her. And, no matter what, she always signed them, “I love you Mama.”

In turn, I was able to write back and tell her how stressed I was as well, and how scared I was for her, but only because of how precious she was to me.

Once we were able to take it down a notch, we often went to a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant near us to talk the rest out. It started one day after her dance class when she was still mad at me, but also hungry. So we went to the KFC across the parking lot from her dance studio, and ate and talked for a long time. The conversation went so well that we decided it would be “our place.” We went there often that year and the next, to talk through the hurts and frustrations.

Eventually, we didn’t need to go as often, and later, we actually made up “fights” just so we could go and be together and treat ourselves. We still tease about it.

If you’re in a tug-of-war with your teens, try writing to them for a change, and see how quickly the tone can change from one of blaming each other, to that of understanding. And I promise you, no matter how frustrated or sad or scared you are right now, one day soon you will be so proud of your emerging adults, you’ll be bursting.

Unlike my friend, Don Vaughan, who knew that he wanted to write from the time he was in high school, it took me a long time to decide what I wanted to be. The problem was not that I couldn’t find anything I wanted to do. It was that, in choosing one career, I would have to eliminate all the other ones that sounded so interesting. I wish I had figured out a lot sooner that, by being a writer, you can be anything you want to be on any given day, just by researching and writing about it.

Instead, I was on a perpetual career search. I read What Color is Your Parachute? and Living Life on Purpose. I was always re-taking the Meyers-Brigg test to see what my personality type indicated about potential careers. (I’m an INFP, as are many writers, which means I’m highly sensitive, and am driven to do something meaningful in my life.) Finally I took a life-mission course called The Highland’s Program, which included an extensive ability-battery. When it was confirmed that, yes, I had both the natural ability and the requisite skills, I ventured into freelance writing. (Sometimes you have to be beat over the head…)

Of all the methods I used, one that never occurred to me was to choose a career based on the “niceness” of the people in it. Luckily, I have found that, had I used that method, I would still have arrived at writing. And, believe me, I’ve worked in enough different fields to be able to make a comparison.

In recent posts I’ve written about my writers’ group and about the conference we put on. Most of the writers I’ve met have been incredibly friendly, kind, and helpful. I mentioned yesterday that I have been emailing with Nancy Peacock, author of A Broom of One’s Own. I also heard from Elizabeth Hudson, editor of North Carolina Signature, and the keynote speaker for our conference. Both are busy women, yet both took time to email me: Nancy to respond to an invitation to speak to TAF, and Elizabeth to thank us for sending her A Taste of Taffy, our group’s anthology.

It’s not just that they responded; it’s the way they responded. Although these women barely know me, both signed off similarly. Elizabeth said, ”Please feel free to stay in touch,” and Nancy said, “Let’s stay in touch.” 

As if they had all the time in the world. 

As Pam Beck, NC garden writer and speaker, said after she gave a presentation to our group, “I have found my people.”

In yesterday’s Parade magazine, a reader asked Marilyn vos Savant how much closer to the Sun our planet Earth could be (than the 93 million miles it is) and still sustain life. Her answer was that it could be as close as 75 million miles, or as far away as 150 million miles, and still sustain some form of life.

Last night my husband and I drove home from southern MD, where we had been visiting my sister, in monsoon-like rain. It’s raining again today and has been doing so off and on for three weeks. But before last month, here in the heart of NC in the midst of extreme drought conditions, we couldn’t buy a drop.

The more we learn about our planet, the more we learn about the delicate balance necessary to sustain all kinds of life here. Although we’re all working harder these days to do what we can, we know that the majority of planetary and weather changes are beyond our control.

In our own life, things that seem like they should be within our control often times don’t feel that way. Why is that?

We’re working too much, or we can’t find enough work. We have too many friends, or not enough. We eat too little or too much.

In order to achieve a better balance, we often have to make a change, either in our routines, or in our relationships. We’re doing too much of what we don’t want to do, and not enough of what we want to do. We have to change our focus, and then tell people about it, often risking their disappointment.

Life seems hard enough without rocking the boat. So we go through what psychologists call the approach-avoidance conflict. We’re drawn to something, and before we even notice it, we’re investigating what it would take to bring it into our lives. We hear ourselves tell our friends, “I’m thinking about doing (whatever it is).” We realize some momentary excitement, riding the high of the positive “what ifs.” Imagining how we’d feel if we really did it.

But then we start to think more realistically about what that would mean. The sheer, hard work of actually making our dreams come to fruition. We start making a list of the negative “what ifs.”

And then it happens. We back off. We put it out of our minds. We go back to the grind, until the next interesting idea grabs hold of us. When our friends ask us how our plan is working out, we tell them that we decided not to pursue it. It would have been too expensive. Too time-consuming. Too hard to do in addition to the work we’re already doing.

Admit it. You’ve done it. Many times over.

What’s out of balance in your life? What would it take for you to correct it?

Sue Monk Kidd, popular author and essayist, says in her inspirational book Firstlight that she keeps one of those dot-to-dot pictures, a gift from a four-year-old, on her desk. She says that on days when she can’t see where her life is going, the picture reminds her that all she really needs to see is the next dot.

I love that image. Rather than plunge in, I’m often a babystep or backdoor kind of person. The image of just having to move one dot at a time appeals to me. Since all forward movement is positive, if we just keep seeing the next dot, eventually a picture of our own, more balanced, lives will come into focus.

What’s your next dot?

 

“I truly believe we should never give up on our hopes and dreams. The path may be rocky and twisted, but the world is waiting for that special contribution each of us was born to make. What it takes is the courage to follow those whispers of wisdom that guide us from inside. When I listen to that, I expect nothing less than a miracle.”
                                                                                                         Marilyn Johnson Kondwani

I think the earlier we figure out what we’re here for and get started on it, the happier we are, but for many of us, that’s a tough task. It’s hard to figure out what we’re supposed to do or be, and it’s even harder to gather the confidence to proceed even if we know.

Moments of inspiration quickly give way to oceans of doubt. We’re all driven by emotion. When we feel optimistic, there’s no stopping us. But once the fear starts to settle in, it holds us back.

Most of our self-doubt comes from leftover childhood issues, which is why I’m such a big advocate of psychotherapy. Once we get rid of the big stuff, we need to constantly ensure that our environment is as positive as it can be. Surround ourselves with upbeat people, read good books, find new inspirations daily.

I’ve learned that the most important thing is just to keep going. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Chart a path, and when you see yourself starting to veer off course, make a correction and start again. Be yourself, and trust yourself. The answers are inside of you if you take the time to look.

Happy hunting.

“We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness. By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness.”
                                                                                                     David L. Weatherford

One of my brothers IMed me today to talk about some of the things that aren’t working in his life. Whenever he does this, he ends the conversation in the same way: “Thanks. I don’t mean to complain.” I told him that if he thought of it as grieving rather than complaining, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so bad about the need to vent from time to time.

Bad things happen to everyone; sometimes the universe just doesn’t give us what we need. It can be very beneficial to share your troubles with a friend, especially if it helps you to think more clearly or to make a decision about what you need to do. A little validation goes a long way, and it never hurts to hear a different perspective.

Most of us were taught to suck up our negative feelings and keep going. Which is not bad advice, except that there’s a step missing. First we have to grieve what it is that we’re missing. So go ahead. The next time you’re feeling down, give in to it. You’ll be tempted to think it’s a waste of time—that there’s no sense in wallowing in misery.

But, actually, there is a purpose to depression, which is a lot easier to understand if you think of it in terms of hibernation. When we don’t feel up to our normal activities, it’s because we need to lick our wounds. To step back from the world and take an inventory of our feelings. Are we angry, frustrated, discouraged? In the end, many of those emotions boil down to being sad about something. A slight, an injustice, a lost opportunity. We can’t move on to the next step, figuring out what we need, until we let the sadness in. Let it permeate. Have a good cry.

Once we do that, we’re freed up to deal with our problems head on. We start to bounce back, as Ginger Rogers explains to Fred Astaire in the 1936 movie Swing Time:

Nothing’s impossible, I have found.
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off,
Start all over again.

I’ve been working as a freelancer for several years now and, like most freelancers, I sometimes get impatient. During the times when the money I’m earning can be characterized as a trickle, rather than the gush I’d hoped for back when I wrote my first book, I have to remind myself that, for creative people, measuring your worth in financial terms can be self-defeating. We often share our gifts with the world in ways that can’t be calculated monetarily.

A few weeks ago my friend, Sandra Gutierrez, from my writers’ group, was struggling with a decision—whether or not to write a cookbook. A food columnist and cooking teacher with packed classes and a growing reputation, she’d like to take her career to the next level. With her cookbook she hopes to expand Americans’ understanding of Latin cuisine. She says cooking styles vary greatly across the twenty-two countries which make up Latin America. 

It’s something she’s been wanting to do, and has been encouraged to do, by her students and friends. She’s been collecting and testing her recipes for years, so she’s ready, but I could tell she just needed a little nudge. Rather than sending a return email to answer her questions about print-on-demand (POD) publishing, I picked up the phone and called her. We talked about the pros and cons of various types of publishing. Her situation is ideal for POD, because she has at least two built-in markets: readers who’ve read her newspaper and magazine columns for years, and a new roster of students every few weeks.

I encouraged Sandra to go for it. As we ended the call, I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. She decided to squeeze out an hour or two a day to finish her book and get it out there, and is on the hunt for a professional food photographer and graphic artist to make the book she envisions come alive.

As she thanked me, I realized that I felt energized in return. You can’t measure the value of helping out a friend in anything but joy.

If you’re a little down today about your net worth, go support someone else in their creative pursuits. The feeling is priceless.