Living my life intentionally is living my life with purpose and on purpose. Any external circumstance out of my power, I can conquer by reflection and moving on.
I am realizing I have the power to change those things within my power.
You can too.
I call myself a writer and this is true, but I am actually a lazy writer.
When it is time to write, I will procrastinate, but it is not something I consciously do. Tell me if you’ve ever done this before:
The night before, you’d say, “Okay. In the morning I will meditate/pray/workout/write, and enjoy the rest of my day.”
The sun is up(doing it’s job). You: Still sleep or on your Smartphone.
“I’m only going to check in on Twitter/G+/Facebook, for a few minutes,” you say and before you know it, it is the afternoon…
But wait. There is still time to write!
You watch a little anime, a little Scandal and heck, Once Upon a Time is getting good. Two episodes won’t kill you.
Night falls(it’s doing its job), even a few stars are hanging out and the moon is brilliant and you feel a nice, Zen moment slip its hands over your shoulders. A quiet little poem whispers in your ear and before you grab your notebook and pen-
RINNNNNG! Your bestie calls and the conversation is at least two hours…
Need I finish this?
I have been watching Jim Kwik’s mind hacks and I am blown away by his techniques for freeing up our minds!
I encourage you to watch his videos. If you are in a slump, feeling drained or uninspired, just ten minutes of listening to him will revive you. I promise!
Anyway, back to writing. So next year I plan on submitting more of my writings but I must be intentional with it. I must make an effort to write more. The problem is that I do write, but my goal is to write for a specific market and I have been lazy in that area.
Another goal is one I hope to share with you all: More Write Web Challenges! I notice that blogs which host challenges, tend to build a great, supportive community and my goal is to help writers reach their goals by tapping into their inner god/goddess.
Toast, to more intentional habits and beautiful writing!
I’ve had a wonderful time writing this month. Ideas kept coming to me and I kept writing away. Technically, I am not trying to work on a novel, but a novella instead, so technically I am finished with NaNoWriMo. Also, it has been fun talking with Marquessa about goals and making “space” in our life by de-cluttering and also thinking of those people and things that inspire us.
My hope and prayer for all of you is that you have achieved some goal this month. Whatever it is you wanted to explore and study, I hope you were able to delve into it and found something beautiful, something useful, something to be proud of and to share.
Then this is the perfect time to figure it out.
I was reading Soul Numbers by Michelle Arbeau and after learning how to calculate number meanings, I found out that 2017 is the year of planting. Check this out:
The intentions & foundations you set in place during 2017 (preferrably early in 2017), mold the field of potentiality and set the tone & flow of energy within your life over the forthcoming 9 years.
This is the year of planting and planning. No matter your belief system, the Creator has instilled in you the need to plant and envision. This is the time to do that.
If you are a writer, then working towards your book by researching and planning it out is a good step. Thus, the need for NaNoWriMo where you just keep writing and never look back until you are finished.
Or, if you’re like me, you are planting seeds by submitting to small presses and contests(hoping they will accept your work- I’ll be posting about my freelance writing journey more and offering tips).
Have you reached you NaNoWriMo goals yet?
Any life goals you plan to reach(….Sometimes it is best to keep these secret. I understand.)
At this point, I am further than I’ve ever gone before during any NaNoWriMo Challenge, trust me.
I am not caring about details, background, nothing. I am just straight up and down chasing the images coming into my brain.
If I were to try and promote this unedited version, some will think it is the best novel ever written(that’s my spoiled ego talking), or the worst thing anyone sober or not could come up with.
Either way there are some serious psychological twists and turns one take as you are approaching 40K and beyond. Check it out:
Confidence is rising.At this point, you are past all the worries. Yeah, there may be some plot points that scare you, but that is what is editing is for. Keep going!
Your character has taken over and you love/hate them. At this particular time, your character is developing a voice or has developed a unique voice, and although you may change the setting in the future, the Voice is still to your liking. Kudos!
You’ve created space and time. You are the god/goddess of this challenge. By now, at 40K you know what time is best to write and where you like to write. I have been choosing different spots in the house. It seems each room or corner delivers a special kind of mood that is conducive to my writing. Ever experience this?
You dream about that magnificent ending. At 40K, you are only 10,000 words away! What will you do? Sometimes, at this point, it is the panic mode. Alarms go off. Again, this is what editing is for. This month, you are just getting the story down- not making it perfect. Capiche?
And finally, for some of you, nothing is happening. You are coasting along. Hey, that’s fine too. At least you’re writing. That’s good.
I hope this month is favorable to your writing venture, if not- make it so! The power is your imagination, just get it down.
If you have not made it this far, you best get crackin’. It’s possible to leap a giant hurdle but it will take dedication on your part.
Already hit 50K? Dang…I’m jealous of you. I’m near the finish line though 😉
Funny how the pain you think you’d feel before dying would be the worst. The pain of a body finally fizzing out like old soda. The creaks and groans of sick bones, the sore throat that is beyond hell and just having a sheet draped over you in the hospital, hurts your skin.
They doped me up with all kinds of funny name brand medicines, the clear tubing runs through my veins and I have my thumb taped to the “pain control” monitor to allow me to “inject” more drugs into my blood stream as I lay dying.
But none of this is as painful or morbid as staring into the eyes of my boyfriend Darwin Humphrey.
I can tell by the wince in his face, the pain in his tone, that he is watching a shell of me. The true me is slowly wasting away. The rare stomach cancer has finally won. At the age of 24, I am losing the battle. Have lost the battle.
He is probably inwardly groaning right now. The day I found out I had it, I remember sitting in my mother’s favorite chair. The pink one with pink feathers and red and pink small heart pillows(gifts from dad).
Darwin was sending pics of me to his family in Germany. He called me the “hot blonde” and truthfully I was.
I stand at 5’5, long strong, lean legs, breasts that I am/was? Naturally blessed with that had very little bounce and some jiggle. Bright blue eyes and hair that was just naturally straight and white teeth to match.
I was going to be a forensic photographer. I have always been a fan of those enormously addicting crime shows like Criminal Minds, Law and Order, and CSI but my fascination has always been with scenes.
Pictures tell a thousand words.
Right now, Darwin is breaking inside. I can feel it. His hand lightly touches mine, but instead of feeling warm and making me all bright inside, it hurts my paper thin skin. It’s like he is slowly scraping my skin with razor blades and I feel a boiling anger brewing.
At him. At myself. At no one. At God.
He sees an old woman.
Chemo will do that.
My shiny, bright California bred looks are no more. I look 65 to be honest and gaunt. I saw myself in the mirror by accident two months ago and since then, my mom agreed to buy me a veil to wear over my face.
In the hospital, I do not wear it. I do not wear it for Darwin. I don’t care anymore.
His wavy brown hair and lion gold eyes drinks me in from head to toe. Before, when we first met in college, his eyes would trail slowly over my curves causing small fires in my heart, making my stomach flutter.
Now, he looks at me as if I am a stranger. He takes me in slowly because Reality is a Beast. I look away from him and towards another rainy day. It’s true. It never rains Southern California but it is today.
Instead of responding, my eyes water but even that hurts. Can’t even cry. It’s been a good run in this world. All 24 years of it.
“Please. Look at me, love.” His Boston accent is what always does me in. I love city boys. I love smart ones who are hot.
Darwin is all of that.
He will move on without me in six months to a year maybe. Find another beauty who will console him as he talks about his dead girlfriend, they will share Starbucks coffee a few days out the week until his heart beats a little faster and his touches on her becomes less friendly and more loving- same as he did with me.
They will trade sob stories of the monster of cancer and he will invite her over for dinner at his mom’s.
A year from now or two he may be with or he may not. He will marry someone because that’s Darwin. Hot biology major whose parents are both professors at California State University.
They will welcome her.
He may become a player. Just sleep with a lot of girls.
I look at him and that is when all of a sudden, I feel a POP! Explode in my chest.
My air is cut!
I look to him and he is holding my hand, he is yelling and I see lime green nurse suits. Mom, dad, and my little brother Manly sweep in quick as dust.
Their images blur. It is getting darker in here.
I can’t breathe!
I gasp sharply as my world turns gray and blurry, then suddenly black.
I am floating.
I am light as air and I twist and turn, darkness all around me but I feel so much at peace. It is like for the first time I am not weighed down.
In life we seek peace through religion, or helping out at shelters, using drugs or sex.
But I must say, this is better than all of that combined times 100.
Out of my skin and bones, out from psychological worry, I can float. No care in the care in the world.
“Open your eyes,” a smooth, silky, male voice says. It says something else that sounds like my name but I cannot identify it.
What is my name?
“Is that why it’s so dark?” I whisper. Why does my words sound like…music?
He chuckles. “Yes.” His words are poems too. Even a single word.
I hesitate. I nearly forget where I am and how I got to where I am. Why are my eyes closed?
I use muscle I no longer have to open my eyes.
“It takes a few tries to get used to a new body.”
“Huh?” I really snap open my “eyes” now and the plethora of color explode before me. Colors I don’t know the name of including a few common colors. Light and bright as the sun filters in and I see tall creatures before me. Their shadow advancing on me.
I take a step back.
I am standing on something lush and soft.
“She’s a new one, let us treat her as such.”
Their voices are so loud! I can hear them in my soul! “Stop yelling!” I shout.
“Yup, new body alright. Is there a reason why these people act like this? Do they not know about their transformation?”
Smooth Voice says, “They were not taught it properly. As far as I know they are the only species who can transform after expiring. You’d think they would be informed.”
I inhale a deep, cleansing breath and look down at myself. My feet are the color of bronze, they shine and sparkle. No need for polish. My nude body is positively glowing…
**As a side note, battling cancer is a seriousissue. I lost my father to esophageal cancer a few years ago. I was inspired to write about the “what ifs” of the afterlife.
If you want more posts like this, please consider joining my blog and connecting with other wonderful readers and writers!
You can guess from the title what just happened at the 27k mark.
My well designed well oiled, well constructed character. Built from a profile of the gods, have been magical, wonderful so far.
She took off, took the notebook, paper, all my notes and took her strong legs to the other side of the hills. Wrote her own story.
True, when you are a panstser, it happens quicker than you can imagine, but somewhere down the line, at 27K words, you wonder if you are truly the architect, or just the builder going off the Architect’s blueprint.
With an outline, things may be easier, but will it?
I’m a rebel and I barely follow rules….
Ok, I follow them but I study to see how I can bend them.
My protagonist, is already born into a supernatural world. The story does not center on the fact of her not knowing she is an ancient, supernatural entity, it begins with her knowing this.
It is the human side she wrestles with. It is the history she is unaware of that curtails her valiant efforts to just BE.
In an effort of just BEING, there are some surprising things happening to her biologically and socially. That part is beautiful.
I think it is beautiful and necessary when the protagonist surprises you. At this point, I wouldn’t say it is complete smooth sailing, but I yearn for what the conclusion will be. That anticipation stirs your gut because you are past the halfway mark.
If you are not at the 25K mark at least, let me tell you something.
There was a time when I made it to 22K and would fall into a slump. I never hit 50K in the last three years because of this.
Now that I am over 25K, I see a change in my story, but I chug along anyway because I know I will do a full edit later.
Editing is another great way to find hidden gems in your story or excavate and obliterate the rubble you need to toss away. More on that later.
~The Write Web
*P.S. How are you doing this month with your writing? Share you woes, your challenges and your joy here.
I used to think it would be easy and that there would be keen competition, but darn it all it is difficult trying to squeeze my creative pieces in someone’s eyesight!
I will be submitting my writings to various places. Like, really committing to it— like a job. I already write more than I work, but I keep flailing along with submissions.
One thing I realize, and this is something I did not understand until now, is that before submitting any piece of writing, you should take a look at the publishers’ samples and even subscribe to their publication.
Now what about that did I not understand in the past? Self explanatory, right?
Well, here is what I used to do:
Select writings I’ve done in the past or recently.
Go to the library to check out Writer’s Market books.
Sit down for hours and look for publications that will take what I wrote.
Got accepted to none.
Well, one of my Christian poems made it to an online site(that no longer exists) and the University of Maryland magazine Constellation, picked up my coolest poems in 2008.
But did I receive bigger recognition and awards? Nope.
From what I researched, the Right way to submit to places is to:
Check the web(specifically Pw.org, love that site!)
Look at small presses, open contests, etc. Really take note of what they are looking for and take special note of the deadlines.
Many websites/publications, now have samples you can view FREE! For example, I will be resubmitting my haiku to several publications that have samples and free downloads of past accepted work.
Pick out the publication/contest you are interested in: science fiction writing? Poetry? Experimental?
Now, get to work!
In this way, you have a kind of rubric of what’s expected of you and you write your piece, tailoring it to what they are looking for.
I am on both sides of the fence though because would it stifle my creativity? Not sure. Chime in and let me know what you think.
Have you thought of submitting some work? Which methods have you used? Do you have links to your work?
What is your advice?
**Thank you for reading and if you like what you see, subscribe to The Write Web today and get connected with serious writers, and bookworms!