Which Leads Me To...

I reread my last blog post and have to tell you that unless a writer has super powers or a clone of themselves, a writer just can't get it ALL done and STILL write a novel that's worth a dime.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic. It IS done and the reality is that I don't know how writers manage to raise well-adjusted children, keep a spouse or romantic partner happy and still have the time to write, publish and market a novel. These writers tend to pay their taxes on time, run for PTA positions, hold a full-time job and run a cottage industry at home.  How in the heck do they do it?

Yes, I realize that organization, focus and discipline are key here. These authors still have time to make basil butter, tend an organic garden and exercise every day to keep up their amazing bodies (tongue in cheek here)...but, that writer isn't me. Unfortunately, when I write, I write all day long. When I garden, I get all into it and when I research, the world disappears for me. I seem to be an all or nothing writer. Or maybe not.

Blogging seems to be the only activity I can do for an hour and leave well alone. Then, I read other blogs. That seems to be the issue here. Not that I don't enjoy reading author and agent blogs, I do, but...

I read author blogs which lead me to their websites which leads me to their books which leads me to research what they've written about which leads me to Goodreads which leads me to their agent's page or blog which leads me to researching the agent which leads me to rewriting my query letter which leads me to sending said query letter to said agent if they're interested in my genre of historical fiction which leads me ordering the 2014 Writer's Digest of Literary Agents which leads me to checking out other books that Amazon has recommended because of my buying history which leads me to wondering why my most recent book hasn't arrived which leads to me checking the mailbox which leads to checking out new mailboxes because mine is getting old which leads me to Home Depot where all bets are off. I'm now into home decorating and simplifying my life by throwing out things that no longer serve me which leads to good feelings which lead to thinking of my manuscript that I haven't touched that day.

Does this happen to you?

THAT is the reality of it, folks. Some days, I lack focus...and this day is no different. I feel distracted and pulled in many directions, mostly what I need to get done in my personal life so that it runs smoothly. I now realize that I accomplished much more in one day when I was married and had children at home. Why? Because I had to. I had limited time and I knew it. I made great use of my time and got so much accomplished. Now that I have all the time in the world as a single lady with no children living at home...not so much. Unless I'm totally immersed.

What's wrong with this picture? I need a DAILY PLAN OF ACTION for writing and other sundry stuff that seem to be as important as writing some days! I need a list and I need to stick to that daily list. And, God knows how much I love writing lists. Another distraction :)

Ellie

You Bet Your Sweet Ass I Am!

This morning, I wrote my "Conversation with God" blog post and when I reread it, I decided to delete it. You, my beautiful reader, were invited to insert God, Allah, the Universe, or Mother Earth, anything that resonates with you, into the blank space...or not.

I found the writing very cathartic and I meant to share the blog post with you, but I was afraid I would come across as whiny and ungrateful. I am not that person, however, it felt great to vent and question God and the Universe as to why my dream has yet to manifest itself when to the best of my knowledge, I'm doing all I can to see my novel, A Decent Woman, published.

My blog was a blog that many writers and authors could relate to--the frustrations of the world of publishing in 2013. 

From the many blogs I read every day written by writers, authors, agents, editors, and publishers, I've come away with:

Most editors, agents and publishers feel badly about publishing today and wish they could help more writers become published authors.

The business is what it has morphed into--a fast-paced, ever-changing and Internet- complicated business.

Historical fiction novels are difficult to sell (which surprises me as that's what I love to read!)

More than ever before, the writer is responsible for building a platform, branding, marketing and more marketing.

Most major publishing houses still frown upon self-published books.

Some agents will not represent you if you are not already a published author, but...if you self-publish, this doesn't seem to count for much. Self-publishing seems to be viewed as the poor relation to its traditional publishing sibling.

It seems that writers are damned if they do and damned if they don't. Very frustrating. So, since I like to see the big picture in most situations in my life, I've decided to take a good look at self-publishing. I'm going to research this avenue because I feel it's a smart move and a timely decision. I'm not getting any younger at 56 and I have all my brain cells at this moment in time...okay, most of my brain cells.

So, this afternoon, I opened myself up to the Universe's wisdom and listened for answers. I deleted my blog and then, sat on my yoga pillow and just sat.and.sat.and.sat.

I'm toying with the idea of incorporating my second novel, Finding Gracia into my first novel, A Decent Woman. My novel will remain an historical fiction novel set in the early 1900s in Ponce, Puerto Rico with the characters Ana and Serafina and alternate chapters will be written in the present. The present day protagonist will be Serafina's granddaughter, Gracia, who has traveled to Puerto Rico for the reading of her grandmother's will after her divorce in the United States.

Gracia discovers that she is the sole heir to her grandparent's coffee farm in the mountains of Puerto Rico and after moving to the farm, she finds her grandmother Serafina's photo albums and documents. These papers and photographs introduce Ana, the Afro-Cuban midwife, who was the attending midwife at Gracia's grandmother and mother's births.

From the grave, Dona Ana and Serafina help Gracia navigate her new life by sharing Puerto Rican history and folklore, traditional healing methods, and their views on spirituality and religion. Gracia will come full circle as she returns to her Puerto Rican roots and becomes the woman she was meant to be.

Worth a try. Then again, both novels could remain stand-alone novels, as well.  Hmmmm. Nice to have options, right?

Do you think I'm talking myself into a positive state of mind in this blog post? You bet your sweet ass I am!

Ellie xoxo

Writing Away the Pounds

This will probably be the last blog post I'm able to write until I receive my new power cord from Amazon. I hope it arrives this week. I have to return my neighbor's cord in a few minutes, so I'm taking this opportunity to write a blog post about the importance of exercise and down town between writing sessions.

In the time that I edited my novel, A Decent Woman, and got it ready for querying agents and publishers, I'd gained 20 pounds. You've read right. That's what I gained in two years and I know why. I was eating on the run and that meant fast food. I love to write and sitting in front of a laptop for eight to ten hours a day doesn't bother me, but it bothered my waist line! By the time summer rolled around this year, I couldn't zip up my shorts. I put them on and was surprised by the two inches that would have to disappear in order for me to zip up. If I'd gotten them zipped up, breathing was another matter altogether. I was forced to head to Walmart for new shorts in a larger size. Not good.

It didn't seem to matter that I worked in the garden last spring, cleaned my house and walked my dog, the weight kept creeping up. My dog is a cute, but lazy Pug and walking him is like a very s l o w stroll in the park, so that wasn't really helping matters. I needed to boost up my metabolism which isn't easy with menopause lurking around the corner and a lifelong thyroid issue, but it had to be done.

I needed motivation. I bought a new pair of walking shoes, started walking in town for an hour and then, a friend introduced me to Weight Watchers. She gave me her binder of WW literature and her digital point counter. I began reading up on what it all entailed as I've never done WW before and I was pleasantly surprised as to what I could eat. It was worth a try and I'm in the first week of my goal of losing 50 pounds.

Here are some of the changes I had to make in my life:

Plan to write for an hour or two and then, turn off the laptop. Take a long walk, plant a small garden, buy a step counter for my walks, walk up and down the stairs a few times a day, and walk instead of driving whenever possible. Drink lots of water. Look at my diet and take out as much sugar and caffeine as possible. Stop drinking soda. No more white bread, sugar or white flour. Blend my version of Green Juice and try it for 14 days. (My recipe below).

For mental and emotional downtime, read! Start a journal again. Make a dream collage. Paint again. Learn something new. Visit friends instead of calling and texting them, if possible. Connect with people. Volunteer. Teach a class. Join a dance class. Take neighbor and her kids to the zoo or a petting farm. Hug a tree. Take a walk along a body of water. Go fishing. Learn a new language. Start planning my next vacation. Call an elderly relative or neighbor I need to catch up with. Breathe and meditate. Pray. Visualize my published book in my hands as I read an excerpt at a book signing with a sell-out crowd :)

GREEN JUICE:

1/2 fresh pineapple, chopped up
bunch of spinach and kale
1 cucumber
juice of one lemon and one lime
handful of fresh mint
1 apple
1 orange

Blend. Should make three large glasses. Fruits and vegies are ZERO points on Weight Watchers.

Enjoy!

Peace and love,
Ellie

Balance, Juggling and Writing in the Summer Months

I'm in awe of authors who manage to write in the summer months. Many juggle a house full of children, hold full-time jobs and keep spouses and significant others happy while managing to write and publish books. I'm single and dating, I juggle a small house, care for a largish Pug and a year old kitten. I have a great group of friends I love to visit with and I can barely manage to write for three or four hours a day this summer. How do they do it?

I suppose this is where babysitters, summer camps, stay-at-home husbands, and grandparents come in for these super authors. I like to imagine that their homes look like a train wreck or look like a small tornado went through, but I highly doubt it. I see incredible organization, spotless homes decorated a la minimalist, and no clutter. I certainly don't see piles of laundry, papers that need sorting through, and pets holding their water and food dishes, hoping to get their master's attention. Okay, that's my house. I'm seeing my house.

I read several blogs written by women authors and I can look at a photograph and know who has their stuff together. There's a confidence that radiates from some of these women and I know they run their homes and lives like a well-oiled machine. I ran such a machine when I was married and had children at home, but I didn't write books in those days. I wrote in my journal daily, but I certainly wasn't writing books.

As a single woman with no children at home, I'm finding it difficult to write in the summer months. That shouldn't be, right? Well, believe it. My garden and the Museum rose garden I volunteer at on Saturdays constantly call to me for more attention, especially in light of all the rain we've had this month. My old house is a work-in-progress and as with any 107-year old house, there's always a window sill to strip and a staircase to sand in preparation for painting. I still have two upstairs bedrooms to paint and tile floors to put down in my kitchen and bathroom. The work never ends in this house I bought two years ago. My house wasn't exactly a fixer-upper, but it definitely needed painting throughout.

How will I organize myself in the summer months to write? I won't. I won't drive myself bonkers, trying to get it all done. How will I get this new book written? One page at a time. I just have to reorganize my priorities. The painting will get done in the fall and winter months when the gardens are slowing down and the new flooring will be down before Christmas. I'll continue with my weekly cleaning and write when I can this summer. I'm going on vacation with my kids and visiting friends in NYC in August which I'm excited about and I'm planning a trip to Boston with a new friend in September to visit his daughter and then, shoot up to visit my family for a few days. I also have blogger friends I want to see this summer.

Balance. I'm trying to find the right balance in my life where I get my work done and I also have a life, especially a social life. After all, I'm a single girl :)

Peace and love,
Ellie

Lilly Pulitzer's Reading Glasses

I'm into this enlarged font today. It's so much easier on my eyes. I'm hoping to reduce the time I read with reading glasses because lately, I've found myself using them way too much. Last night I realized I had them on while eating my dinner. Not good. I'm too dependent on them, so hence the enlarged font this morning.

There's usually a positive and a negative side to any activity, depending on who you are and how much you do it. Perhaps there'll be more than a couple of ticks in one category in which case, you might want to look into that activity or choice. If there are way more negatives, you might need to quit what you're doing as in smoking, eating an entire rhubarb pie in one sitting, or drinking a pot of tea at midnight..not a good idea. This pot of tea at midnight is clearly not good for you or anyone else who comes in contact with you and especially not for the person next to you who is trying to sleep. Highly annoying.

Take writing for example. I write and/or blog every day. I love it. When I'm into my writing, I can sit here for eight to ten hours a day and in that time, my little reading glasses are perched on the bridge of my nose. Every now and then, I take my glasses off to clean them, when I run to the kitchen for a cup of tea or coffee, or let the dog out, but pretty much, they're on my face.

I have reading glasses in my car, by my bed, in the bathroom, by my laptop and in several purses should I feel the need to change purses. Actually, I should leave a pair at my son and daughter's houses, too. I can think of no other item that I have as many duplicates of...well, okay...I have a helluva lot of shoes. 

My reading glasses are light aqua and brown (stolen from an old boyfriend because I just loved them), brown, tortoise-shell, black, silver and gold and I used to own a pair of reading glasses in Lilly Pulitzer colors. Remember her preppie pastel-colored vacation clothes? Yuck. I must have been insane to wear those clothes. 

Well, I'm always on the lookout for a new color and I'm craving a lavender pair. I know, it's nuts, but I'm addicted to reading glasses. Okay, I said it. I'm owning it, but I don't like it. When I travel, I look for new colors and must pack at least three pair because there's nothing more irritating or unseemly as trying to read a Paris or London subway map with your face all scrunched up. 

And since we're confessing here...I cannot go anywhere without a notebook, a pen, pencils with erasers and mechanical pencils for my crossword puzzles. Never. I pack a fun bag for me just like you do for a kid!

It's pretty clear to me that if I don't stop using my reading glasses so often, I'll be entirely dependent on them. I'm not too far from that now. I'm entirely okay with adapting to my age. I'm adapting to my fluctuating weight, my arthritic knees, gravity, and my more taut than usual muscles that need constant stretching, but my eyes--they need a rest. I don't want to adapt to the change, not this change. I'm not going to go from a -2.00 reading glasses prescription to Coke bottle!

So, since I know that I'm never giving up writing and blogging or painting in watercolor and gardening, I'm going to use my reading glasses less and enlarge the font. So there, old age. 

Who am I fooling? I love reading glasses. I love wearing reading glasses and I am drawn to own every single color and shade under the sun! Have you ever begun to write your blog and ended up uncovering a secret? An addiction? I just did.

I'm Ellie Parker and I'm a reading glasses addict. I'm not even a recovering reading glasses addict. I'm an addict. But, they say that realization and acceptance are the first steps in kicking any habit and I've done that here.

Meh :) I'm off to CVS and Rite Aid to check out their summer and fall collections of reading glasses. I wonder if the lavender reading glasses will come with a cute case?

No matter. I'll be that awesome writer lady in the neighborhood with the funky, kaleidoscope reading glasses. The eccentric author, Ms. Ellie. It was bound to happen and I accept it. But...I'll never wear Lilly Pulitzer reading glasses, ever. That's where I must draw the line.

Peace and love,
Ellie

Physical Signals, Mental Responses and Cues of Doubt.

Why have I posted this photograph on my blog today? I uploaded the photograph I took of a lovely cup of coffee because I just threw a perfectly good cafe con leche with two teaspoons of sugar down the kitchen drain. Cafe Bustelo, mind you! Puerto Rican coffee and the best coffee in the world. I even liked their Facebook page, that's how much I love Cafe Bustelo.

I write my blogs as a stream of consciousness writing exercise, so my plan this morning was to write a blog and then, begin editing my novel, A Decent Woman, with a new book that my friend, fellow blogger and chick lit author Meredith Schorr recommended: The Emotion Thesauraus: A Writer's Guide to Character Expression by Angela Ackerman & Mecca Puglisi.

I just can't say enough about that gem of a book! If you write novels and you don't own this book--run, do not walk to the nearest bookstore. I'm all about supporting our local bookstores, but if you must, buy it online!

Back to the reason I chucked that lovely cup of coffee down the kitchen drain. I quit smoking last Sunday and this morning, I tried to drink my first real cup of coffee since Sunday, Cafe Bustelo, thank you very much. I thought that five days would have been long enough, but as I took the second sip...I began to feel anxious. I tapped my foot, inhaled and exhaled slowly. Ommmmmmm. There was that urge to smoke. Ugh, my trigger reared its ugly head. At this time, coffee and tea remain my two biggest triggers for lighting up. I still can't trust myself. So instead, I posted a photograph of a cup of coffee I drank in real life back in April of this year.

I enjoyed that lusciously decadent kaffee melange with two teaspoons of caramel-colored Demerara sugar across the street from the Belvedere Palace and gardens in Vienna, Austria. The little glass at the top of the photograph did not hold a shot of something yummy, it held water.That's the way we used to drink cafe con leche y chocolate caliente in Puerto Rico--with a glass of water on the side. I've found this tradition in Belgium, France and Romania, as well. This was a lovely kaffee melange, I remember it well :)

This weekend I'm headed to the river with my neighbors, their first time at our river place. We're planning on fishing, boating and enjoying the river from our riverfront patio. I have a bottle of red wine at the river and I also have the fixings for Margaritas, but the jury is still out on whether I can partake in alcoholic libations at this time. I might enjoy iced tea or coffee instead or just plain water as I am now. No big deal, I love water and wasn't drinking nearly enough of it. I must say that my skin looks awesome with all the water I've been drinking this week. Not a bad thing!

So in a few minutes, I'm returning to my first novel-length manuscript armed with The Emotion Thesaurus. I'm excited to beef up my character's physical, internal, mental signals and behavior and their cues of acute, long-term and repressed desire, anger, anxiety, relief and hatred! Yes, they have them all!

"Cheers!" said Ellie as she cleared her throat, shoved her hands in her pocket, and avoided eye contact while worrying over her current path. Ha! I already love this book!

Peace and love,
Ellie

How to Write a Book While Remaining Smoke-free

Today is Day Four of my smoke-free life. I kicked the smoking habit last Sunday afternoon after a weekend of puffing away. Cold turkey is the only way to go for me. I've done it cold turkey before and I lasted eight years. I blame my ex-husband for my smoking relapse. Yes, I do. But of course, had we remained together...you fill in the blanks here :)

So, Day Four. My pets are alive and the police haven't been called to my house for any disturbances caused by me, anyway. The police were called to my street which was a great distraction for an hour. I live on a "colorful" street in the historic district of my town. It's not as colorful as other streets, but with school out, it's "lively" around here in the summer months.

They (I don't know who they is) say that after day three, anything becomes a habit and that just may be true about my quitting or maybe I was focused on day three and it distracted me from smoking! I'm not sure, but I feel fine and dandy. Actually, I feel great. I thought I'd have a rough time giving up coffee and tea and was dreading the withdrawals from caffeine, but I didn't get the headache people talk about (again, those people). I'm not sure if my mild withdrawals are because I've been drinking Dr. Oz's green juice, detox concoction, and taking my vitamin D religiously but I feel pretty damn good. Giving up red wine for the time being isn't a big deal, either. I'm not a person who enjoys drinking alone and I live alone, so meh. Be gone, triggers!

There are, however, specific times where I've notice a stronger pull to run to my neighbor's house for a cigarette or ten:

After a meal;
after writing, when it's time to proofread and edit;
and, after great sex.

Not really. I just threw number three in there to make sure you were paying attention. However, my neighbor tells me that sex is THE KEY to success for battling just about any addiction. Unless your addiction is actually sex, of course. Then, I suppose you'd take a cold shower, scarf down a Klondike bar or you'd substitute sex for another addiction like bungee jumping from the nearest bridge, for example.

Anyhoo, yesterday I noticed a stronger urge to smoke after a meal and after I wrote my blog post. The urge happened again as I wrapped up a newly written page of my second novel, Finding Gracia. I  literally had to get up, go outside and weed the garden. As I was weeding, I thought, "Wait a cotton pickin' minute!" (my mother's favorite American phrase when she arrived in the US from Puerto Rico), 'I could play games with my head! I can trick myself into believing that writing is the activity and the "reward, prize" is the editing!' An aha moment.

Well, it could work. If you think about it, we are quite able to psyche ourselves into believing any number of things, and not all are smart things, either. If I'm on a balcony, I have to talk myself into believing that I'm not afraid of heights (which I am) and I've talked myself into believing that I could kayak when I had a fear of capsizing and not being able to right myself. I had nightmares of drowning under a canoe, not fun. 

I remember the day when I decided to call myself an artist when I began painting for exhibits. I had to call myself a writer when I began to write my first novel, A Decent Woman. Fake it until you make it. I don't just write, I'm a writer. I'm going to do whatever I need to do to not smoke. I'm a retired smoker, an ex-smoker, a recovering nicotine addict, yuck. It even sounds nasty!

I'm nearly finished writing this blog post and I've caught myself looking to my right where my cigarettes, lighter and ashtray used to be. There was nothing better than dragging on a cigarette at a job well done aka my blog and/or novels.

Must trick myself into believing that editing is the same as smoking...or I just might just buy the Blu electronic cigarette for editing. Nah, that would be a crutch. Off I go to think about all that...

Peace and love to you!
Ellie

My Novel Is About...

Today is Pierre's first birthday and so far, he has spent the morning napping in a sun beam. Pierre has a great life and so does my Pug, Ozzy. My fur babies make me smile, laugh and sometimes want to pull my hair out, but all in all, they are super awesome company.

There's always a story to tell with those two underfoot or overhead in Pierre's case. I can tell you in detail about how Pierre and I met at the shelter--love at first sight. I can share how great it was watching Pierre meet his older brother Ozzy for the first time by rubbing noses, and I can even tell you about the items and collectibles Pierre has broken in our home as he continues to test his kitty prowess and by sowing his wild oats or catnip.

Perhaps during this morning's nap, Pierre is thanking his nine lives that I rescued him from the SPCA in my town. But most probably he is pretending to be asleep because before this nap, he probably knocked over some valuable in another room that was high on a shelf that I'm unaware of. All that stalking of collectibles, pushing them to the edge, and watching said collectibles drop to the wood floor and/or rug can get tiring and yes, boring. I can tell you a ton of stories about Pierre and Ozzy...

BUT...ASK ME WHAT MY NOVEL,  A DECENT WOMAN, IS ABOUT AND I MIGHT FREEZE.

What's that all about?! I don't know why I instantly freeze and thaw out slowly, and it has happened to me more than once. A person asks me what my novel is about and I stop and think. I'm going to answer you, but I hesitate. Now, I KNOW what my novel is about for goodness sake. I wrote it! All 77,557 words of it! So, why do I hesitate before telling interested people what my novel is about?!

I'm known as the storyteller in my immediate family. I can tell a good story, honest to Betsy. I tell stories from when I was little and I share stories from a simple trip to the hardware store, a walk to the mail box or even about a neighbor I spy from my front yard, for goodness sake. I can tell a great story, but ask me what my first novel is about and I'll begin to tell you, but I seem to fall short.

Why do I find it so difficult to tell you briefly what my novel is about? I've researched my novel and I'm from Puerto Rico, the island where my novel takes places. I'm from Ponce where my characters live! But, I either add way too much detail or I leave out way pertinent information. I begin telling the person what my novel is about and midway through, I add something else or omit something and by the time I finish, the person might have just yawned. The person or people may have smiled at me politely, but the subject has gone from my novel and my spotlight (my Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame!) to a missed opportunity!

I'm a balance between an introvert and an extrovert, leaning more toward introvert in my older age :) I can tell you a story about stuff that happens external to me, about me, but when it comes to explaining what my novel is about...I flounder. I'll tell you stories about my past, my failures and joys, fears and dreams, but when it comes to my novel that only four people in the world have read from cover to cover--I get nervous.

My query letter is well-written and has been well-received. It is clear, concise and grabs a reader, piquing their interest. But, if you ask me to tell you in three sentences what my novel is about...I flounder and hesitate as to what I should share with you.

So, I've decided to memorize the first paragraph of my query letter which has a great synopsis of my novel. That synopsis says it all.

I'm attending my first writer's conference in NYC in October--

The 2nd Annual Comadres and Compadres Latino Writers Conference, which will take place at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn, New York on October 5, 2013--

and I'm psyched! I need to have my synopsis down pat by then because there are agents, publishers, writers and authors attending and the list is awesome. http://lascomadres.com/countonme/latino-writers-conference/

I have to be ready to talk about my novel and not be shy about marketing myself!
I have to sell myself and my book to people who don't know me and need to know me!
I have to find a bit more self-confidence so that I can speak eloquently and concisely about myself, my novel and my awesome characters because if I don't, no one else will!

Happy Hump Day to you!

Peace and love,
Ellie

Clearly Not the Vienna I Knew!

I visited my BFF in Vienna, Austria for two weeks this past April. The trip was my first time back to Europe in five years and the first time in Vienna since my children were three and one years old. Nearly 26 years had passed and I didn't always have great memories of that time in my life.

I was a young American mother of two toddlers and Vienna was a very proper city with very proper Viennese people. It was a grown up city with old world charm where people dressed well even when they went to the market which used to be two times a day. Elderly ladies I didn't know often chastised me on the trams and buses in German for not dressing my children properly in summer, in the rain or for not putting hats on my children in the fall. I was learning German at the time, but it didn't matter--I knew I was being chastised!

Vienna hadn't been my favorite posting as a young Army wife. We were the first American Army family to live in the city,so we broke ground in many ways. Life was tough. We had one car which my husband took to work every day which left me with public transportation. Not an easy feat with a bulky stroller and two toddlers. My husband, two children and I lived in Vienna for three years and my mother's three month-long visits during that time kept me sane :) Life became easier during our third year as the children were older and when I could defend myself in German against the 'old lady brigade' on the trams. You'd best believe I learned to listen for the weather before leaving our house and dressed my children accordingly! Ha!

The historic city center of Vienna was the same as I'd remembered with the grand palaces, many Gothic and Baroque cathedrals and churches, and old world cafes. That hadn't changed a bit. Vienna is a beautiful, fascinating and clean city, no doubt about that. But as K and I descended the stairs to take the boat tour of the city, I was blown away by the fantastic street art I saw along both sides of the Danube River that runs through the city. What an unexpected surprise! I looked around half-expecting the graffiti police to run down with white wash in hand! There were some pieces that were clearly political and I'm sure they ruffle some city feathers, but for the most part, the graffiti was pleasing to the my artist's eye.

The Vienna I knew 26 years ago was not a city that would have smiled on or tolerated graffiti. I was almost giddy when K went to the ticket booth to buy our cruise tickets, I took a dozen photographs with a huge smile on my face. As an artist, I have a great appreciation for any form of artistic expression, but this took the cake! How had this freedom of expression happened and was it really tolerated?

I don't know when street art became accepted in Vienna, but it was great to see that the prim and proper city I remembered had relaxed. I love when modern and old come together. The past and the present. The result is often vibrant, alive and beautiful. The Viennese have always had a love and appreciation for art, music and culture as do I, but seeing this young form of expression really made me happy for a different reason--the city seemed to have evolved and changed with the times. Had the city embraced street art or had they tired of painting over it, I wondered!

Before the boat tour left the city area for the pastoral part of the cruise, K and I saw throngs of young people sunbathing along the river and enjoying the open air cafes. Young people everywhere waved at us as our boat passed by. I loved seeing the young clearly enjoying themselves among the graffiti--their personal art gallery. I had to chuckle. Had the Viennese powers that be, given the young Viennese their own area along the river? Had the agreement been to keep street art out of the city center and the communes of Vienna in exchange for the river area? Well, it worked for me and apparently, street art in Vienna is alive and well! I loved it and the rebel side of me cheered them on ;)

The weather was glorious that day. K and I had a great time sipping white wine spritzers along the Danube and taking photographs, but was it the best cruise we'd ever been on? Not really, but the street art made it special for me and spending time with K in her newly adopted city was awesome. Kudos to all the artists!

Peace and love,

Ellie

The Strange Thing About Arriving At Your Final Destination

As I prepare to read my novel, A Decent Woman, aloud for what I hope will be the final time in the editing phase, I realize that I feel like I did when my children and I were one town over from the end of our two-week walk to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, the final resting place of Saint James.

We were so close to finishing El Camino, the medieval pilgrimage walk, and I remember it it was near sunset. My feet and heels had blisters the size of quarters. My kids and I were exhausted, mentally and physically exhausted from getting up at dawn and donning 20 lb backpacks and walking 20-22 miles a day in the Spanish summer sun until near sunset. Together, we'd walked 370 kilometers.

During our walk, I'd had visions of  my kids and I running into town, our destination. I'd say that we'd yell in celebration when we entered the town, hug and kiss each other, but as we stood on the hill with Santiago de Compostela in the distance that evening, I changed my mind. It didn't feel right to walk the mere 10 final miles  for some reason. I trusted my gut as I'd done when I decided to walk El Camino and drag my teenage children with me. I'd learned to trust my gut more and more on the walk and I've never deviated from those life lessons learned on our walk--our personal caminos. My kids agreed to wait.

I remember my children and I were silent as we looked down the hill at our destination. We were lost in our own thoughts about the walk and how it had all come about. At times, we hadn't believed that we could finish the arduous walk as we walked down country roads, through villages, trekked beside highways, and hiked up hills and mountains. My kids worried that I couldn't finish because of my blistered feet and I worried that my children would chuck it all aside and demand to go home. But, we hadn't given up. Home seemed so far away on that late afternoon, and crazy as it might sound, we realized that we didn't want our walk to end.

When we finally spoke, my kids and I expressed a desire to savor the moment. It hadn't been all that bad, had it? Yes, it had! We laughed and decided to enjoy a great meal, get a good night's sleep and enter the city fresh and clear in the early morning. I had dreamed of walking El Camino for years and here it was--the end. So close and yet, I wanted to wait.

Waiting to enter Santiago de Compostela was the best decision EVER. That evening, we had dinner with fellow peregrinos, pilgrims who had walked El Camino from various starting points around the world. Some of our new friends, all pilgrims had walked the entire Camino from France to the village we found ourselves in the night before the end and others had begun in Holland, Germany, Belgium like us, and we'd all heard the story of the 80 year old woman who'd walked our her front door in England, took the ferry from Dover to Calais, France and finished the walk. Others began their journeys in the US, Portugal, France and as far away as Japan.

There are many paths that lead to Santiago de Compostela. We'd all taken the path that made sense to us or the path that we found ourselves on at the time. During dinner we discovered the various reasons we'd decided to walk El Camino and the reasons were amazing to hear. There are as many reasons to walk as there are stars in the sky.

I'm glad that my children and I took the time to process our walk. We needed to process. And, as it turned out, we took two days. We loved the albergue, hostel, where we found ourselves and we enjoyed the pilgrims we came into contact with. It was clear that my kids and I needed to be alone with our thoughts and we needed to laugh about the things that had happened along our camino. 

My kids and I shared many laughs and stories with each other that night and there were tears, as well. Our lives had changed so much in two weeks and we knew we were different people. We also knew that when we returned to Brussels, the lives we knew would be different. My husband and I had just separated and my kids and I were heading back to the US after 13 years of living overseas.

My children and I had always been close, but walking El Camino with my precious children, when we were hurting, confused, and doubting a good future, was the best experience of our lives. I will never forget walking into Santiago de Compostela with my kids. We were overjoyed, hugely relieved, tired and we'd grown by leaps and bounds. I'm amazed we survived that walk and then again, I knew we'd reach the end.

This morning, I remember the night before we entered Santiago de Compostela because my novel is finished. I've sent out new queries and I want to be alone with my book for the day. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and with my last reread (aloud), I'm savoring every word. I remember when I started this book and where I was in my life. So much has happened to my children and I over the last few years. Some days have been difficult for us, but we're happy and healthy today.

Of course, I've already starting writing that book! I'm going through the journal I kept on the Camino, gazing at our photographs taken during the walk, and remembering how it felt to begin a journey and to come to the end. I'm in awe of what we accomplished and I marvel at our resilience, courage and strong bond of love.

Today, I'm going to savor the moment because I'll never write my first book again. It's been quite a journey.

Peace and love to you,
Ellie

Read Your Novel Aloud - Tip of the Day

So, you have a great idea for a book. It's unique and you finally listen to your family and friends who have always encouraged you to write a book. You've never written a book before. Sometimes, you think that you could write better books than those you've read lately and at other times, you marvel at an author's artistry with the written word. You could never write a book like that. But then again, maybe you could and you should. I say you should.

One day, something inside you propels you forward and you decide that today is the day that you will begin to write a book. You might have a title in mind and you may even know how the whole book plays out. You've dreamed of your characters and they just won't leave you alone--they want you to write this book, too. There's a story to be told.

Writing your first book is much like buying your first car. You've dreamed about it, you know what color it will be and how cool you'll look driving that car around.  But as a young person or a person of any age who buys their first car, you're afraid. What if the book is dumb and you've wasted so much time on it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Trust me, write the book. It will change your life.

So, you decide you want to write the book more than you're afraid of it. You buy the car and you begin to write that book. Baby steps. You drive for a while and realize that could take a road trip! Why not? You have some free time or enough vacation days or a long weekend without the kids. You create a vision board of your destination aka your book with photos you've cut out that inspire you. Dreams are more vivid and you begin to meet new people who have been sent to you by the Universe because you've just made a momentous decision--you're going to write a book.

Hey, you've written a few pages! But, you stop. Who do you think you are? An author? You ignore the annoying censors in your head, those voices that have made you quit before, and you continue. What have censors done for you lately? Before you know it, you have a chapter written. Now what? You continue. You've got the bug and soon, you find that you're in deep. You can't stop now. Your characters need so much from you! They're depending on you to help them find their way in the crazy world you've built for them. You can't leave them on the side of the road and take a detour!

Armed with a map, enough gas for a long drive or a spontaneous road trip, you open the car door and invite your characters into the car and off you go. Now, you're in the middle of the book and kinda stuck. The ending you thought possible just might not be possible for your characters. Instead of forging ahead, you go back to Chapter One to do a bit of rewriting. This feels safe and you can pat yourself on the back for the chapters you have written. You take a few days off, but the book is calling you all the time, begging you to resolve the issues and celebrate with them at the end of the journey. So, you continue revising. But, remember that your characters are sitting with their luggage on the side of the road, ready to hitchhike. Call them over, trust me, they'll be ecstatic that you're continuing the journey--their journey!

While revising/driving, you come up with a brilliant ending, you change your protagonist's name just because you love that name and you know exactly what your characters must do and why. You realize you know what's best for them and you know how to achieve it. Leave  the beginning chapters alone for the time being and move forward with the next new chapter. Done. See that wasn't so hard, was it? You were afraid, that's all. Feel the fear and do it anyway! Get back on the road.

Hey, if you don't write this book, who will? Won't you hate to see someone else write a similar book? Won't you really hate it when you see a movie trailer with a similar story? It's going to bug you, trust me. You don't want to be that bitter person at the party who complains about the book that got away. Please don't ever be that person! Finish the book because no one can tell your particular story, but you.

You fill up your emotional gas tank, check under hood, change the spark plugs and you're moving steadily down the road. The drive is smooth and the way is clear. You wave at people on the side of the road who cheer you on. At times, you need to rest and you begin researching on the Web. It's a great idea. Take a breather when you need it, but get back in that car! Before you know it, you're over the middle hump and sailing toward the end. Feels great! You find yourself telling people at the next social gathering that you're a writer. Well, you are and you realize that not many people in your inner circle write books. Pretty cool, huh?

So, your book is done. What a major accomplishment! You join the ranks of writers around the world. You've written a freakin' book! Congratulations!! You've reached your destination and now what? It's been quite a journey with twists and turns, some U-turns and false starts, but you're there. Now what? You can't rest on your new author laurels for long, it's time to edit. You read your book, some friends and family have read your book, you find a great editor and now what?

You begin to edit your book. You edit and edit some more. You fill in the blanks with more research and you may find that during your research, that things might change. Your character might not have said what she said in Chapter 22 or you might come up with a gem of information that changes things around. Don't worry, it's all part of the process. Trust your gut! Yes, it takes a whole lot of hard work and determination to write a good book.

My advice is to keep reading, rewriting, take writing courses, read up on the craft of writing and keep editing. Join a writer's group, a critique group and meet other authors and writers. You're in great company. 

And, when you're confident that your book is ready, read it aloud. That's what I just did with my first book, A Decent Woman. I read it aloud last night and you know what? In the first chapter alone, I found sentences that needed strengthening and run-on sentences. I also found that in one short chapter alone, I used my protagonist's name three times. Gawd...

I'd never read my story aloud and THAT is my tip of the day. I'm going back to my novel in a few minutes to keep reading. More rewriting is in my immediate future :)

Happy writing to you!

Peace and love,
Ellie

What a Seven-Year Old Knows

My friend took this photograph of me the morning I learned to kayak. I'm in the last red kayak next to the log, holding on for dear life with my paddle.

I'd wanted to learn to kayak for quite a while and one day, I met a man at the local hardware store. We struck up a conversation and he invited me to join a kayak group that doubles as a conservation group for the creek. I'm all for living green and I was very curious, so I accepted his invitation. I drove out and met the group and had nice conversations before it was time to put our kayaks in the water.

Actually, I didn't learn to kayak, I take that back. There were no instructions beforehand. The group leader pointed to a red kayak, handed me a life vest and told me to follow the group to the creek. Then, he smiled. "This is your first time, isn't it?" to which I said yes. He told me not to worry, adding that kayaking is as easy as walking. I laughed that I hoped it would be and he went ahead of the group, leaving me to drag my kayak to the edge of the creek. I'd hoped that there would be someone at the mouth of the creek helping people into their kayaks, but there was no one. They'd all gone ahead and I was the last woman standing. I was on my own and I noticed that my pulse had quickened. I could already tell that I was in for one helluva workout just from pulling the kayak!

I donned the life vest, slid down the muddy embankment and stepped into my rocking kayak. It soon became apparent to me that this would be a learning experience. A hands-on training of the solo variety. So, I copied what everyone else did and soon, I was at that log in the photograph, listening to the group leader welcome us all and wish us a great ride. A great ride? Were there rapids on this trip that no one had bothered to tell me about?! It was obvious everyone but me had kayaked before, but I was up for the challenge! And besides, there were children kayaking for goodness sake. If a seven-year old could kayak, I was going to be okay, I told myself. These parents wouldn't allow children to kayak if this was dangerous. Right?

Let me tell you, kayaking is easy in a swollen creek or river, but it hadn't rained for quite a while. There were times when we all had to drag our kayaks across rocks and pebbles to catch the current and many times, I was ahead and other times, I was dead last. I had nice, brief conversations as people passed me, others waved to me, and after an hour, a seven-year old boy and I managed to meet up. I asked him if he'd kayaked before and he said yes. Where was his mother, I asked and he pointed up river. "She and my brother have gone ahead." I could tell the boy was tired and so, I slowed down because I knew if I went ahead, he would be alone as we were the last two at that point. Had I just been appointed his guardian for the day? This was my first rodeo for heaven's sake! I barely knew what to do myself! I couldn't be in charge of this beautiful boy!

Well, I believe things happen for a reason, so I just allowed the day to unfold. I enjoyed the present and decided that I wouldn't worry about the future...but this kid. I hadn't counted on babysitting on my first day of kayaking!

The morning was chilly and the sun was glorious. My seven-year old friend turned out to be delightful company. He graciously shared a granola bar with me and we managed to stop a couple of times to take photos and the boy remained with me. I knew he could have gone ahead, but for some reason, he stayed by my side. I thought back to my own kids and how over-protective I was and how I couldn't have fathomed leaving them behind on a creek. I wasn't judging, but in awe of his mother's total confidence in her child's abilities. I knew my kids were capable, as well, but to leave them alone? Not on my watch.

At one point, the boy and I both had to use the 'facilities' and we held each other's kayaks as we did our business. We had a good laugh about hiding from the group and poison ivy and at one point, I nearly lost his kayak as I tried to take a photograph and let go for an instant. We took our time, meandering along the creek and I saw things on the creek that only a child sees. He pointed out bird's nests and knew many of the birds that flew around us. I loved that a seven-year old was teaching me. Maybe he thought I needed assistance and didn't want to leave ME!

We shared a magical two and a half hours and I was thankful to have this curious, intelligent boy with me. He was great company and as we neared the end of the trip, the boy asked me to race him to the finish line. We paddled for our lives and of course, he beat me :) As we pulled our kayaks onto the embankment, the boy pulled his kayak up the hill and disappeared without saying goodbye. I was kinda sad that I couldn't thank him for being my travel buddy. We'd spent all morning together and he left? Just like that?

And then, the boy returned. He slid down the embankment with a huge grin on his face and took my kayak rope from me and pulled my kayak up the hill. Amazing. What a charmer :) I told him how much I'd enjoyed spending the morning with him and gave him a big hug. His mother came over with his brother and I told her what a wonderful, kind young man she'd raised, a real gentleman. She smiled and agreed as she tussled his hair.

What a beautiful morning :) I can't wait to go back. I don't know if I'll ever see the boy again, but I'll never forget him. I'd conquered creek kayaking. I felt the fear and did it anyway. I was proud of myself!

Peace and love to you,
Ellie

All Together Now!

I took this photo with my iPhone shortly after take off as we flew along the coast of Florida on my way to Washington, DC. I am amazed at these phones and how clear the photographs are. Gotta love modern technology! 

I'm a nervous Nellie when it comes to flying. I've always been like that and I've flown all my life as an Army brat and former Army wife. You'd think I would get used to it, right?  Not. You will find me sitting with my seat upright, tray table up, my cell phone on airplane mode, eyes shut, and I'll be the woman holding the arms of her seat with a death grip. I just never have gotten used to not being in control of my life. I don't enjoy giving my life to another person aka the pilot(s) for any amount of time. Hey, what if his wife just left him or his favorite dog passed away? What if she's decided to quit flying after this flight because she'd rather continue being a barfly? Then, what? Where would we be?? In the Atlantic Ocean if it happened on my flight.

When I board any plane, I always check over the pilot(s). I check for bloodshot eyes, shaky hands, and black circles under the eyes. I do! I could lie to your face here and now and say that I don't, but I damn well do :) As I walk down the aisles, hoping my carry-on doesn't bump someone's arm or head, I'm checking out all the passengers for terrorist(s). Who looks nervous, has shifty eyes and I even check out the grandma's because no one would suspect them. The perfect cover. When I take my seat, I look around for anyone who looks ill or ready to croak. I wonder if it's their last day on earth and we're all going down with him or her. Is it you or you, I wonder as I look over the passengers near my seat.

Yes, I'm a mess when I fly. The photo I took out of the window was taken when we were at cruising altitude, I think it was 32,000 feet and the seat belt sign was turned off. It is then that I can relax and stop reciting Mother Theresa's novena and put away my rosary beads. I've already prayed for my children, my family and friends and I've promised God that I will improve on those things that I don't do well at. Yes, I bargain with God, but He knows me well :)

I don't like not being in control of my life. I just don't. Last year, I flew five times and this year, I've already flown twice. I do it, but I don't like it. I hate connecting flights and will pay for a non-stop flight any time I can.  Much like trying to find an agent or a publisher for my novel, I send out query after query, but I don't like it. I understand that's how it's done these days, but I don't have to like it. My publishing life is in the hands of so many other people and I'm not in control. I find that very annoying when I'm ready now! I've already begun writing novel #2 which I'm enjoying, but I sure would love to see novel #1 published before I finish.

On the flight home from FL, my sister and I were going home after visiting our father and his wife. I sat in the middle seat, my sister had the aisle seat and a lovely young woman sat by the window. When the turbulence hit (damn!), my sister and I linked arms. I chided myself for not drawing up a damn will before I left home! The young woman leaned forward and smiled at us and said, "I'm a nervous flyer, too." So, I did what any compassionate, scared out of my wits woman and mother would do - I took the young woman's arm and we linked arms. I didn't even ask her if she wanted to link arms! I just took her arm and we stayed just like that for about five minutes until the turbulence subsided. My sister screamed at one point during the rollercoaster ride through turbulence which surprised me and I could do nothing but laugh at her! I didn't know she was a nervous flyer, too! It made the moment lighter, but I did have to laugh at her. I didn't scream! I don't know who needed the hand holding more on that flight?

The young woman thanked me when we landed :) When I land an agent or a publisher, I'll thank them, too. It's nice to have someone in your corner, ready to hold your hand through the publishing process. Not that I need major hand holding, but it's a new business to me. It would be nice to have a champion on my side as the writer's life can be lonely and unforgiving and yes, at times, downright scary.

I've decided. I'm taking the Amtrak trains to any future book signings.

Peace and love to you,

Ellie

Heaps and Loads of Patience...

I woke up to a couple of inches of snow this morning...no, no, no. That wasn't supposed to happen! The primroses and daffodils are blooming and I'm in the throes of a major Spring cleaning, enjoyed airing out the house on a few warmer days and now snow? Major disappointment! 

This disappointment feels like my disappointment in not hearing back from the agent with the exclusive read of my sample chapters. I want to hear yesterday...and like winter it's taking more patience than I think I'm capable of mustering. I'm hanging in there, but it's tough. God gave out heaps and loads of patience on the day I was absent.

I don't know where I'm going to find more patience to wait for Spring AND an agent. I know agents are busy, I really do, but it doesn't make it easier to wait. I know and understand the writing business, but that doesn't mean I have to like it :)

I'd dared to dream of wearing shorts and a T-shirt which led me to trudging upstairs with my bulky winter coats last week, only to throw down my puffy vest this morning. I'd lowered the temperature in my house and shut off the ceramic heater in my bedroom a few nights ago only to turn the heater on high last night! Argh!

I've dared to visualize my book cover, I dream of crazy book sales, and great reviews, only to have to keep waiting patiently for the first step - finding an agent. I've begun writing my second book and I'm loving the research and writing only to find a typo on page 257 in my first manuscript! Argh! The discovery gripped my throat and now, I'm worried that there are more typos. Thoughts of what else I've missed plague me. Time to enlist the help of the lovely ladies at my local library who've offered to read my novel and hell...I'm also thinking about Kindle Publishing. Hey, I have to have Plan B, don't I?

So, Plan B for my first book is in place. I'm going to investigate Kindle Publishing. An ebook might be interesting as that's exactly how I buy my books these days. My Plan B for waiting for Spring to arrive is a trip to Florida. In a couple of weeks, I'll be flying to FL with my sister and we'll be visiting our father and his wife who might be recovering from surgery this week. I canNOT wait to feel the sun on my face and dip my feet in the ocean.

I'm going to keep writing my second book which I'm loving already. I'm writing it in first person POV which I've wanted to do for a long time. It's liberating and my writing is flowing. I'm happiest when I'm writing and I have a strange peace, but I'm having to force a huge smile this morning :/

Fake it until you make it! That's my mantra this morning.

Peace and love,
Ellie

Feeling Stuck?

Are you feeling stuck?  Do you need a shove out of your comfort zone? Are you impatiently waiting for an agent to email or call you about representation after asking for an exclusive and it's been long enough that you're considering self-publishing because you don't think you'll ever land an agent? Do you secretly fear that your book won't ever be in print? Oh, wait. That's about me. I'm waiting impatiently for a specific agent to get back to me and fear that my book won't ever be published. Back to you!

If you're stuck in a place where you don't know what the next thing to do is and you're afraid of doing something out of your comfort zone, may I suggest singing karaoke at a country bar? Piece of cake you say? Okay, let's up the ante. Let's have you sing a country song in a packed country bar after a country gentleman sang, "On The Pontoon" which is a real sing-along and favorite in my neck of the woods that nearly brought down the house. What do you say? Would you go on next if you'd only sung in public once in your entire life?  Deal?

Well, that's exactly what happened to me on Saturday night. And, no...I didn't sign up and had no idea my friend had secretly signed me up to sing, "Crazy" by Patsy Cline. She knew I'd only every done karaoke once and I'd just finished saying that I had a fear of singing in public, no matter how friendly the crowd was. She asked me what song I would sing IF I had the chance and I answered Cline's song because I have a low voice.

The one time was when I sang backup or more to the point, I was comic relief for a girlfriend whose birthday we were celebrating at the river and only because we'd done a few tequila shots beforehand. It was one of those moments where you are feeling the effects of liquid courage, believe me. I have a fear of singing in public, but I'd done it and although I didn't bring the house down, it was not nearly as terrifying as I'd thought it would be.

So, when I heard my name called out, I froze. What?! There had to be a mistake! "Come on, little lady! It's your turn to wow us!" My jaw dropped, eyebrows raised and I looked at my friends with a look that said, Are you friggin' kidding me?!" There was no backing out, people were clapping and I walked up to the stage, knees knockin'. The karaoke guy was ready with "Crazy", holy shnikies. No backing out now. The guy asked for a warm country welcome and the music started. He pointed at the reader and winked at me.

Good God. Well, I love that song and knew the words, but at that moment, if the screen hadn't been in front of me with lyrics and a bouncing ball on the words to be sung in what order, I'd have bombed.

I sang sort of on key and lo and behold, as I sang people went up to the dance floor to slow dance to me singing!  CRAZY~! I enjoyed it and enjoyed the applause when I finished. What a hoot! As I walked back to my seat, I heard the karaoke guy say, "It's always the shy ones who surprise us." Well, waddya know :)

No, I'm not giving up my day job of writing and I'll continue to wait for said agent to respond. I have no illusions of landing on "American Idol", but I did conquer my fear of singing in public...and, as the night wore on and more people got up to sing, I realized I wasn't the worst singer of the night :)

The Perfect Fit

This winter, when I've dealt with rewriting and fleshing out chapters in my novel or when a rejection letter from an agent I've queried has arrived, I usually redecorate my house. It's as if I must get a hold of myself and make myself happy in some way and I've always loved redecorating, painting and moving furniture around in my house. I view it as a mental health must. I take control back and make sense of my world.

In spring and summer, I usually go into the garden and dig in the dirt when I need a mental break. I find working on my old house and gardening very meditative. The activities reground me after losing balance and my footing which is what it feels like to be rejected by an agent you've queried. Not a great feeling. I simply tuck the letters and emails away and forget about them. I've never received a rejection with any advice as to what to change in my novel, so I shrug my shoulders and improve my chapters.

Last week I visited a used furniture shop in town and found an old wood fireplace mantle painted black. I've been searching for one for quite some time and there is was, propped up against the wall. I instantly fell in love with it and was excited that it was in my price range -- cheap! I couldn't write my check out quick enough. The shop owner said he recognized me. He'd fixed the fence next door to me that runs alongside my garden and he complimented my garden. How nice! He then kindly offered to walk the fireplace mantle around the corner. I was thrilled to finally place the mantle in the place I'd chosen and stood back to admire it as I removed decades of dirt. It's a perfect fit.

I didn't receive any rejection letters from agents last week, but I was at a tough place in my novel that might require rewriting. I instinctively knew I'd need a break before tackling the chapter and felt it was time to paint something. I decided to paint the interior of my front door black. Of course, that led to moving furniture around! Redecorating is like standing dominoes in a pattern and then, pushing the first tile forward and watching them all fall. Removing the Art Deco coat rack by the front door and replacing it with my oak secretary meant that other things had to be moved.

Moving the coat rack out of the way led to assembling my pine armoire in the kitchen and moving the pine hutch to the little nook in the hall way that leads out of the kitchen. The perfect fit. Of course, paintings had to be moved and I am so pleased with the results. My 106-year old, quirky house is taking shape, moving to a place where I'm happy.

Once that was all done, I looked at the before and after photographs I shot and was pleased. I am satisfied. I love my house again.  Now that the redecorating is done, I can sit down in my beautiful living room and rework that chapter.  I just needed some grounding, self-confidence and motivation.

One agent has the first 50 first pages of my manuscript as we speak. He asked for an exclusive, so there's not much I can do but work on that chapter and pray that he wants to see the entire manuscript.  All I need is the perfect fit. Much like my house, I've tried this agent and that agent and won't be dissuaded because I know the end result will be beautiful. 

I can visualize that perfect fit.

Happy Friday to you!

Peace and love,
Ellie

Thoughts on Divas and Egos

There's nothing like a good ol' winter cold to zap your energy and turn you into a whiny, nostalgic hermit. Actually, I don't need a winter cold for the hermit in winter part, it's too cold to venture out for too long this week. I'm talking frigid, kill everything in its path cold. I have three layers on, the heat is on and I'm still cold.

I get nostalgic when I'm sick which is probably why I wrote yesterday's blog post. I always miss my mom and grandmother and much more when I'm sick. I remember their arsenal of home remedies that worked along with many warm hugs and kisses. There's nothing like Mommy Love and Vicks Vapo Rub - my mother's cure all!

I believe nostalgia found its way into my heart yesterday because I'd also been working on a chapter in my novel, A Decent Woman, where my protagonist, Ana cares for her best friend Isabel who is dying from tuberculosis. Women taking care of other women and in the process, healing themselves. When women help other women, they are never more beautiful in my eyes.

Before I entered the writing life and world, I was (and still am) a working artist. I'm a multi-media artist/photographer who has painted and exhibited for over 25 years in the US and in Europe. I wasn't a newbie to interacting with creative people when I wrote my first novel, A Decent Woman. At the time, most of my close friends were artists, poets, photographers and dancers, and one self-published author who was very kind and generous with me as I wrote my novel.

The art world, much like the publishing world, is a tough, unforgiving and complicated business.  Art societies, guilds and groups can be rife with big egos, petty arguments and jealousy. I've seen it first-hand - artists and divas who complained when they weren't given the best wall for an exhibition, the best lighting was on another artist's pieces, artists who made catty comments about whose name was ahead of whose in the programs, and snide comparisons about their fellow artists. I helped organized several exhibits and I think my gray hairs came in right about that time. Any time you have big Egos involved, there are bound to be issues and conflict. A little Ego is healthy, but there's a delicate balance. Too much Ego can go toxic.

For years, I was on the board of our local art group and I was able to escape scrutiny (I think!) and didn't participate in the pettiness, there was enough around me. Consequently, the diva's pieces were highlighted because they made the loudest noise. The divas, male and female, were tough to work with at times and I eventually left the board position to give painting classes and facilitate creativity workshops to help others find their passions in life. Yes, it took me away from painting and photography, I'd say. What's two days a month in the scheme of life? Being a mentor and helping others helped me.

I hate to admit it, but it's true - when I entered the writing world, I had the preconceived notion that writers would be as closed, jealous and petty as some of the artists I'd encountered in my past. I was the little girl looking through the fence into the playground where the bigger kids played and ran around. I remained a writer/observer for a long time.

I observed for five years by blogging semi-anonymously (that's another story!) on another site before I began this blog about the writing life, my life and my novel. I read other authors, read their blogs and studied their websites, Facebook and Twitter pages. As with art, I found self-promotion off-putting and uncomfortable, but it had to be done. I wondered if I would have to scream the loudest to be published? I joined groups, writing critique groups, subscribed to author's blogs, joined a foundling group of writers who write women's fiction and joined Goodreads. I love reading reviews by women authors about other women author's books and enjoy catching up with blog tours when I see them advertised.

In the process of watching from the sidelines as a newbie, I discovered a beautiful thing -

Women WERE helping other women. Women ARE helping other women in the writing world.

I've made friends with debut and established women writers, marketers, editors and have had the occasional agent take the time to write me a personal note. That speaks volumes to me, we're all busy. But, the main 'thing' is to write, right? Again, it's a delicate balance and I believe I've found a nice balance. I blog first thing in the morning, followed by reading and making comments on other writer's blog posts. I check my emails and two Facebook pages, write a few lines for Twitter and then, it's full on writing for the rest of the day. It works for me.

It warmed my heart to learn I was mistaken about writers and I'm happy to be a part of the writing world. As for my painting, two years ago I joined an artist's cooperative group in West Virginia and so far, the Egos are in check...so far :)

Peace and love,
Ellie