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

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

Going Solo and Taking Risks in Life

I replaced the power cord on my laptop last year and was back in business. This morning, my newish power cord didn't do the job. I'm borrowing my neighbor's power cord and had to apply plumbing tape just to keep it plugged in.

Ellie Unplugged. I don't like the sound of that, so my son ordered me yet another power cord. Thank you, son! I just pray it's not my laptop...that would suck royally.

I love new beginnings whether it's me, someone I love or a complete stranger. I love challenges, new experiences and new vistas and my children are no strangers to new beginnings. We started new lives in the United States after my marital separation in Belgium 2005 where we'd lived for 13 years. I taught my children by example to embrace new beginnings and take risks in life and they are certainly following my lead--my son is taking a three week "lone wolf" trek through Southeast Asia next month.

My initial reaction was a dropped jaw as I heard the news from my son on the phone this afternoon. But I know my son--he will research everything he can possibly research and he's travel savvy enough to know that he has to be careful and watchful. He has consulate phone numbers, train schedules and names of hotels on the way, but he's solo. I'm thrilled and worried at the same time. However, I raised fearless children and that makes me proud. I shouldn't be surprised that he is ready for this international trek.

My son invited his sister, my daughter, on this trip which really warmed my heart. But she is in graduate school and working part-time, not a good time for her. I'm PRAYING that she can go on one portion of the trip as she has always wanted to visit Southeast Asia. I think this would be a great trip for them both. My daughter is on her own adventure with graduate school and her new beginning will be when she graduates--she's a natural born therapist. I'm as thrilled for her as this is her passion in life and the happiest day will be when she graduates and my other happiest day will be when my son returns from this "lone wolf" trip!!

I joked with my son that I had time off and could go along on his adventure and knew that he'd laugh--he did :) It's not my place to go on this trip or any trip that my children go on these days. These are my children's life adventures and I'm thrilled for them. I did good with these two. I'm so proud of their life's achievements and their courage in the face of adversity when it has hit. I couldn't ask for any more from my children--they amaze me and I love them more than life itself.

Writing a book takes a lot of the same things that we're talking about here--risk taking, stamina, courage, resilience, strength of character, facing rejection and setbacks, and love of our stories and characters. Writing my first book, A Decent Woman, was a new chapter for me and seeing my book in print will be a whole new beginning and I'm more than ready for that!

Take the risk for your dream and passion in life--you'll never be sorry you did. Just put one foot in front of the other and walk toward your new beginning.

Peace and love,
Ellie

How An Audition Helped Me Push Past My Fear

I'm all for taking on challenges that put or push me outside my comfort zone. It has been my experience that when I do this, I am able to tackle and finish projects that have me stuck or stumped at the moment. I've also found that taking a risk and doing something totally out of character builds confidence.

Writing is one such challenge. Once I finished the first draft of my novel, I had no idea how much out of my comfort zone I'd go. Writing a book is one long, lonely road which requires strength of character, persistence and patience of which I didn't have a lot of when I began. I was absent the day God handed out extra patience.

I believe that putting ourselves out there in new situations can help us in ways that we never expected or dreamed of. For example, I wrote my first novel, A Decent Woman, in six months. The first draft came quickly to me and then, years of rewriting and editing as I was new at writing novels. I learned as I went along, read books on writing and storytelling and always kept reading books by favorite and new authors. I didn't always really know what I was doing, but I plugged along and soon I had a copy of my manuscript I was happy with. I was in a great rhythm and very pleased with myself. I was proud of finishing a book!

Soon, it came time to query agents. Now, I was in a world I knew nothing about. I hemmed and hawed, read through books on the subjects of marketing and publishing books, but still I couldn't see the next concrete step. That was when I lost a bit of self-confidence. Now what? Was I stuck? Was I blocked or was it a case of never seeing my book in print? I couldn't let that happen. I had too many books to write to just lay down the manuscript and forget about it.

Right about that time, a friend called to invite me to her theatrical performance of The Vagina Monologues. I invited ten friends who were doing The Artist's Way with me at the time and we had a wonderful time. After the performance, we hung around to congratulate our friend who'd done a monologue theater piece the year before. She told me that her theater group was holding auditions for a comedy to be performed in the fall and she urged me to audition. Me? No way. I'd performed in high school and had a bit part in a college production, but I was a writer and an artist, not an actor. 

My friend bugged me until I accepted the challenge. I was scared to death. As I stood there among veteran actors, I just knew I was in the wrong place. What had I been thinking? This was a joke. I had a fear of speaking in public. I'd given talks on subjects I knew a lot about in school, but this was entirely out of my comfort zone. So, I pushed past my fear and since I was already in the theater and would have looked like a baby if I walked out, I went through with the audition process. Well, the audition was a blast. We read lines in funny voices and foreign accents and at the end, my sides hurt from laughing so much. I made new friends and although I didn't get one of three parts for women, I had a great time and learned a lot about myself--I can do comedy.

I came home that night with renewed strength, pride and new-found courage. Things always look worse and harder until we actually do them. The unknown is sometimes scary, but looking back, we realize that the things we feared weren't all that bad. I began querying agents the next morning.

So, say yes to new challenges, you just might surprise yourself.

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

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

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

Thoughts of Dogwoods and Life

The sidewalks and streets in my neighborhood are wet and my garden is green again. I looked out the window this morning and smiled. No snow and the sun is out. I instantly felt energetic and wonder if the lack of sun affects me or is it just that I love the sun and sunny days. I immediately feel more energetic even if I'm home and don't go out in the sun, just seeing the sun makes me feel better. My neighbors must feel the same way as I hear my neighbor's children playing in the yard and all this week, I've heard birdsong around dawn. Spring has arrived.

After breakfast, I walked through my garden in my white robe, sipping hot tea and checking on all my babies. I hope that the perennials I planted last summer bloom again. I spotted two robins along the back fence and noticed new growth on the hydrangea plants and the astilbe. The daffodils and lilies are six inches high now and the ivy in the pot is as strong as ever. I still have this month to prune my ancient grapevines and the little dogwood tree my friend D gave me last year has tiny buds on the branches. That made me happiest of all. 

Last year on Earth Day, my friend D was offered two 'twigs', dogwood trees with roots in a plastic bag of dirt. She surprised me with one 'twig' last year as a house warming gift and couldn't have known how happy that made me. D said she didn't know if the 'twig' would survive, but I was hopeful and so pleased.

You see, dogwoods were my mother's favorite tree. They will always remind me of my mother who passed away in 1992. She also loved lilac bushes. I love both. My parents had several flowering dogwood trees on their property in Northern Virginia. Beautiful dogwoods in creamy white and shades of light and darker pink. They're delicate-looking, compact trees that don't grow huge like an oak or a maple, perfect for a smaller yard like mine. Well, I was thrilled.

A Virginia dogwood had ended up in a West Virginian garden. Just like me, a Virginia transplant in a new home, I told D. I too, had been delicate, fragile, and had replanted myself many times after my divorce. My kids, family and many friends feared for me in a new town and state, worried that I'd hate West Virginia and that I'd made an awful mistake in moving. It didn't matter that it hadn't been my choice to leave Europe, end my marriage, and move across the Atlantic, but here I am.

I immediately planted the little dogwood in a large clay pot and decided that we would no longer call it 'twig'. It's a dogwood and I babied that tree all last spring. Midsummer D visited again and we planted the dogwood in my yard. I decided to plant it along the side fence away from the wind that always blows like crazy through the side yard. She reminded me that I would have to move it, but I was dead set in protecting it first. I staked the little dogwood and it has thrived there. The dogwood grew four inches last year and I'm praying that it survives the winter and continues to thrive. But, I might have made a small mistake with my precious little dogwood...

I planted it along the side fence, way too close to the fence, actually. In my attempt to protect and save the sapling, I'd forgotten about trust and allowing things to progress as they are meant to. I'll have to move it to a location where it is able grow as large as it wants. The spot is confining and not conducive to future growth...I forgot to trust.

as I write this blog post, it feels eerie. The comparisons between my new life in West Virginia and this little dogwood are amazing to me. I've always felt in tune with nature, so this shouldn't surprise me.

Two springs ago, I moved to West Virginia to start a new life. I bought and move to a house that I could well afford and to a location that would allow me to write full time. At the time, I saw no other option. Friends and my children encouraged me to look at other houses, but I was so afraid that I just made the decision and did it. West Virginia isn't forever, but it sure has been a soft place to land and I've been able to live my life as I envisioned it. I've felt safe and protected in this place. The experience of moving on my own has been difficult at times because I'm away from my two adult children, but I've healed here. I'd put down tender, shallow roots and they spread. I've grounded myself in this town and I feel I've thrived...

but, I now realize that I've planted myself real close to the fence in an attempt to regroup after divorce. I wonder what would have happened if I'd trusted and been a bit more patient? Well, I'm not one to dwell on the past nor agonize over decisions. I did what I thought was right for me. I finished my novel and have begun to write my second book. I've made friends and feel a part of my crazy and colorful neighborhood. I've also protected my heart in many ways...there it is.

Is it time for me to move away from the fence? What will moving away from the fence mean for me? What will it look like?

It looks like book #3, that's what it looks like :) The outline is already written because I've lived it. That book will be the sequel to the book I'm writing now or the ending...and I didn't realize it until just NOW. Just this second.

Trust.

Peace and love,
Ellie

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

Pruning Your Novel

Have you ever kept your Christmas tree up long after Christmas music is off the airwaves and the wrapping paper is put away? I have. As long as the needles aren't littering my wood floors and the tree is thriving, I find it very difficult to throw away a perfectly good tree. I've had the same feelings about heavy editing, it's tough, but necessary.

Every Christmas I choose a live tree and fresh wreaths and garlands to decorate the exterior and interior of my house. The evergreen smells and the joy that fresh trees and greenery offer me are worth the trouble and money. Once, I kept my tree and decorations up until March because I couldn't bear tossing them into the back of the trash truck. It happened again this year with the garlands of greenery along my front fence and the fresh wreath my friend gave me for Christmas - the one on the antique chair I placed on my front porch. Correction, had. I finally threw the wreath away yesterday. I hated doing that and was hoping to add little Easter eggs to it, but it was too dry and brittle.

I had the same experience with cutting out certain scenes and chapters in my first novel. I had put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into those scenes and chapters. I loved them, but ultimately, I had to face the fact that they did nothing for the novel I was working on. Pruning the novel felt like cutting away pieces of me!  It was hard to do, but I understood why it had to be done. I could use those chapters and scenes in another book.

This coming March, I have to prune the ancient Concord grapevine on my patio that offers me precious shade in spring and summer, not to mention bushels and bushels of wonderful grapes through October. I bought this old house two years ago and couldn't bear the thought of pruning, fearful that I'd kill it in the process of  pruning!

The first summer, I had more grapes than I could eat and last summer, the harvest was great, but not as bountiful as the previous year. I could tell.  My friend insisted that this March was pruning time - a heavy, no holds barred pruning. That terrifies me. What if I kill it? What if the vines never grow back? I know it has to be done, but I'm scared.

It was then that I realized that there would be new growth on that old grapevine and more grapes.  I also realized that there would be another book and another book after that with heavy editing.  The three things I love, Christmas, gardening, and writing would continue and thrive with careful attention, love and pruning.

Pruning is necessary for new growth and a beautiful harvest.

Peace and love,
Ellie

A Little Humility Never Hurt Anyone

I took this photograph of my patio last week and after enjoying my windows open yesterday, I'm kinda bummed that we're back to snow today. Sigh. I'm over winter.

This is my favorite hang out spot with friends, wine glass in hand and a table of hors d'oeuvres to share. We enjoy lovely shade in spring and summer when the grape vines are full of leaves and in late summer marked with thousands of Concord grapes hanging in lovely bunches. I eat grapes morning, noon and night in summer and someone needs to convince my Pug Ozzy that grapes are toxic for dogs because he scarfs down the grapes that fall all summer long. I sweep and collect fallen grapes every morning, but he finds them. So far, I've not seen the effects of this grape toxicity in Ozzy - it's a losing battle with him, he's gonna eats grapes.

The honeysuckle on the side fence and the grapes attract lots of bees in late summer, but they don't bother me...much. I'm of the jump up from my chair and run variety when bees come too close. I've never understood how a person could sit still while a bee or wasp buzzes around them! I just can't handle bees, so I run. I was stung twice in my life by a couple of wasps and I don't want a repeat of that experience, thank you very much.


I must admit that my patio looks beautiful in winter, too. I wouldn't have photographed it if I hadn't seen something beautiful in the scene. But now, I'm over it!  I'm over winter. I'm ready for new growth, the variations of green that pop up on my gardening radar and the first plants of spring that show up when I least expect to see them. My elderly neighbor loves Farmer's Almanac and loves to tell me what's coming up with everything and what should already be here, as he says. He'll tell me when the next full moon and lunar eclipses will happen. When planting season comes around, my friend knows which vegetable to plant, when and next to what. My neighbor seems to know the stars and on summer evenings when we're sitting under the grape arbor, he'll say, "Come here, look at that," as he points to the heavens and we stand there, heads back, mouths wide open.  He's a wealth of natural information, I'd think and smile at how lucky I am to have him as a friend and neighbor.

When I met my 75 year old neighbor, I thought how cool it was that he knew all that stuff. I bought a Farmer's Almanac so that I could keep up with him. I remember one day when I surprised him with a nugget of information that I'd gleaned from the Almanac. He smiled at me and was quiet. How odd, I thought. Isn't he happy that now we have more things to talk about? We both love nature, gardening, flower and plants. Isn't he excited to have an eager student?

Then, it hit me and I donated the Farmer's Almanac to the local library. I'd taken away what had given my friend joy - informing me about the natural world he knows. My friend doesn't write, paint or take photographs. He was a much-loved dish washer at the Bob Evans in town before he retired. We'd found common ground in our love of gardening and that was what he wanted to share with me. His garden is beautiful and his knowledge is extensive. My neighbor helped me dig in my hydrangeas, perennials and annuals last spring and he takes great pride in our gardens :)

What a fool I'd been.  A well-meaning, eager student, but also a young fool (young to him) who'd forgotten about the wisdom gleaned through another's experiences in a long life. So, now I keep my mouth shut. I learn by listening and following his lead. I'm not one to steal anyone's thunder and I've always allowed my kids to learn by doing (well, most of the time!) and so, I'm looking forward to spring and digging up the side garden with my neighbor. I'm one lucky lady.

Still living, loving and learning in West Virginia.

Peace and love,
Ellie

Blogging and Business Blogging

My 25 year old son told me that I should keep my personal and writing lives separate with a personal Facebook page and writer's page.  My friends recommends that I create a website for myself before my book is even published.  A good friend and fellow blogger says she loves my blogs and how I tie in my life with writing novels.  A very good and wise friend told me that I should blog, Facebook, Tweet, review books, join writer's blog groups, read writing blogs of published authors and try to squeeze in time to write.  Wow and she's probably right.

All I wanted to do was write. I wrote a book and have a large folder full of poetry, and I've blogged nearly every single day since 2007 with a couple of breaks for holidays and travel.  Blogging comes easily to me. They are my Morning Pages. Those of you who know Julia Cameron's seminal book, The Artist's Way, will know what I'm talking about.  Three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing, written long hand, mind you.  I started doing my Morning Pages around the year 2000 and never stopped. I have a two stacks of bound journals (with no lines) as tall as me - five foot nothing - as proof.

All that life and living in those pages, wow. PLENTY of writing material in there, let me tell you! Of course, to the untrained eye of a complete stranger, many of those journal entries might be enough to put me away   for my own good and the good of the community. I've journaled on trains, tour buses, in Venetian hotels, in the Alps after a ski accident, at night while walking El Camino with my kids, and just before and certainly after my divorce.  Yes, all that life is chronicled in my journals.

So, blogging came naturally. When I started on Thoughts.com in 2007, I immediately found a home and a niche - newly single, divorced woman in her 50's enters the dating world. I didn't look for that niche, that's exactly what I was doing and women found it interesting and hilarious.  I have to admit that dating has been pretty damn funny. That book will be easy to write because it's all true. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction in my world! My dating niche blog was a piece of cake for me, I was merely journaling.

Anyway, my new blog was meant to be serious.  I decided I would take my son's advice and start a blog, a serious writerly blog about writing and the writing life. Now, writing is serious and I take it very serious, believe me. I work my tush off, clocking in most mornings at 9 and signing off at 9 pm some nights. I've worked hard on my novel and I'm proud of it. But, this blog?  It just won't stay serious.  I can't help it, ridiculous and strange stuff happens to me and around me, just begging to be written about.

I always include my novel-length manuscript in my blogs and I write about the challenges, difficulties, hopes and dreams I have for my novel. I've written about my characters and how they came to be. I've recommended books on writing that I've loved and still go back to time and again. I'm learning to review books, I still feel dumb tweeting and boy, do I have a hard time tooting my own horn. I'm learning though.

Yes, I've written an historical novel that also fits women's fiction and multi-cultural genres, but there are also moments of laughter, joking and comraderie between my heroines. I wrote that novel with years and years of research, interviews and reading and I've always had a funny bone.  So, it was impossible for me to weave a story without a little humor because that's how I've lived my life. Humor has helped me lift myself up when I didn't think I could go one more step or do one more thing. Humor allows me to put things into perspective and I can laugh at myself in the process. I chide myself with "Stop being such a drama queen" when I realize that I'm so blessed to do what I love and am passionate about - writing.

You won't find any whining here, but you may find that mixed with the writing 'stuff', there'll be moments and mornings when my toilet won't flush (even though all the parts are working and in place) because that's life.
But, I won't write about my book, maintaining my ol' house, my dating life (or lack of) or the weather when I'm reviewing other author's books.  The next step in my evolution.  My review blogs, interviews with authors, and Q & A blogs will be all about the authors. I have to push the envelope now because the blogging I used to do doesn't seem to resemble the writing blogs that I've read every day for an hour every morning since I started this blog. Some are humorous and informative and those I put a star next to. Others are strictly business and very helpful, and most are pure business - the business of selling books. Sigh. As if writing a book wasn't hard enough, I now must learn the business of publishing and selling books. Sheesh.

That was a whine...well, I'm almost finished reading the first book I'd love to review - The Paris Wife: A Novel by Paula McIain. Through this author's eyes, I've enjoyed the sights and sounds of one of my top five favorite cities in the world - Paris.

Peace and love,
Ellie

To Peace, Love, Writing and Flushing Toilets

This morning, I watched two Youtube videos - How To Correctly Use a Plunger and How to Unclog Your Toilet.  Yes, the life of a full time writer is glamorous and awesome! I could lie and tell you that I wore pearls and heels to unclog that pesky toilet because it was that easy, but I didn't and it wasn't.  I wore polka-dot sweat pants, my son's wrestling T-shirt from Brussels, socks and determination. The guys on the two videos wore socks and no shoes, so maybe that was the key. I was determined to fix that toilet. How hard could it be?

Two years ago, I decided to write full time and I knew it would be a challenge, but I was up for it. I was tired of the DC area traffic, the ridiculously high rent I was paying, and working for peanuts as a Spanish language Family Support Worker with 25 beautiful family clients to care for. What we pay people in the Social Services fields is a CRIME, but that's another blog. The files we kept on the first born children of immigrants of many countries were hard enough to keep updated and accurate, but I also had to make home visits once a week which meant I was always in some type of traffic. My stress levels were through the roof most days. I was pretty unhappy. I knew I would miss my clients and their beautiful children who I loved, but I also knew that I was too old to run around and the stress of maintaining 25 to 27 files was making me crazy and grouchy. I moved.

My move to Wild and Wonderful West Virginia proved to be a wild and wonderful choice. I was firm in my decision to move and wasn't swayed by family and friends who thought I'd gone off the deep end.  I don't regret my decision one bit and now, I write and read every day and paint when the spirit moves me. I've grown in West Virginia and I've gotten tougher. I continue to learn to navigate life as a single woman, a first-time, single-income home owner and boy, do I learn lots about home repairs as I go along.

As for my only toilet, it still ain't working.  I reattached the chain to the doohicky and watched the water go down as I lifted the chain. Nothing.  The bulb thingie that floats in the tank is doing what it's supposed to do and the rubber hoozit that lifts up to empty the water is doing its job and then, closes. Around and around we go and all that's happening is that the toilet paper is shredded and my kitten Pierre is getting a real kick out of watching the whirlpool in the strange white throne.

It was time to employ the plunger. I'd purchased two types of plungers when I bought this old house - the old fashioned kind and a new fangled model with a round thingamajig that comes out of the original doohicky. As I watched the video again (because the first time I used the old version of the plunger, nothing happened) I realized that it's all in the wrist.  Ah hah! I have to hold it just so and push down repeatedly on the wooden handle, splashing water onto my socks until...it flushes!

Now, I do wish I could sit down to write this whole afternoon and not unclog a toilet, but some things just can't wait and others must wait. I need this toilet to work. It's my only toilet and I don't want to pay a plumber for something I can maybe do myself. So, here we are. I love my writing life.  It's far from perfect and not as idyllic as some of my friends think it is, but I will admit it's pretty damn good most days, though...especially when my toilet works :)

It's all about perspective, I suppose. Do I sometimes wish I had a handy man around or a landlord I could call, you bet I do! But, I wouldn't trade my life and writing full time for nothing. Off I go, plunger in hand.  Wish me luck!

To peace, love and flushing toilets!

Ellie

What Flooding Has To Do With Writing

This morning, I discovered this photo taken in March of last year of the Potomac River in West Virginia.  That year, the river crested at 27 feet and the owners of riverfront lots on lower ground woke up to this sight. Yes, that's a child's swing set in the upper right hand corner of the photograph. Our lot levels out at 30 feet, so we were close, but safe...that time.

We riverfront lot owners know that flooding is something we have to deal with and we accepted that fact when we bought. There have been times when we've chosen to ride out the weather and watch the rising river, praying that it will crest way below what's been predicted. There was the time when my friend Gwen and I decided that it was time to call in the big guns - the tow truck company that would haul the camper to higher ground which is a difficult, tedious and costly decision. It turned out that we'd predicted wrong. The river didn't reach our patio, but many lot owners experienced flooded campers and lots. I saw refrigerators and coolers float by. It's a gamble living on the river. I was okay with the decision that was ultimately mine and I learned to be more patient and watchful for signs that maybe we would be okay staying put.

I have to be alert to NOAA's predictions and then, gamble. To move or not to move to higher ground, that's the question and floods can happen any time of year. In recent years, melting snow in the mountains have caused the MD and WV creeks and rivers to flood and surge toward the Potomac River in the spring. Last April, my friend Kristine and I watched the waters of the Potomac River reach the fifth step of the stairs that lead to the river as we sat around a bonfire at 3 am, wondering if we could chance falling asleep. What an adventure Kris and I had that night! Our adrenaline was pumping and we made the right choice not to panic early and call the tow truck company. We'd gambled and survived and we were very proud of ourselves! My co-owner Dana and I are two of four women who own riverfront lots. Men watch us to see how we'll react, we know that. And, we've learned well and we've survived two seasons now. This spring will be our third - we're here to stay :)

Our friends who own lots on higher ground say they couldn't stand the stress and the uncertainty of living on the river. I shrug and say that the pleasures and beauty of waking up to a view of the Potomac River while I sip my coffee are worth the risk. When I see geese glide over the river, an eagle soar overhead or watch a new family of ducks swim by and listen to the fishermen's conversations from boats I can't see through the early morning fog, I'm at peace. "Just not worth it", our neighbors have said to us and we smile because when the weather is dry and hot, these same neighbors will be calling us to see about bringing their kids over to swim and fish off our floating dock.

Writing a novel is like that.  It's a risk, a gamble that we as writers sign up for every time we start a new book. Writing isn't for everyone. The risks that our story might not be picked up by a big name agent or a big publishing house are there, ever present, but we persevere. Friends and family secretly believe that we should get a day job. But, we know that the pleasure is in the writing, it's a passion that has put its hooks into us and we can't deny it.

Yes, there have been times when I've thought about throwing in the towel and calling it a day at the river and with my first novel-length manuscript, A Decent Woman. I've experienced and dare I say, have been plagued by night time thoughts that we'll lose the camper to flooding and that I won't see my book in print. But then, I think about spring and summer mornings to come when I'll sit and write at our farm table on the patio that faces the river and it all goes away. My two loves will come together again. I'll be reminded of how blessed I am to write and will continue to put myself out there with my novel. I visualize my book in print.

Writing is worth the long hours, isolation and uncertainty that come with it and the longer hours and uncertainty when we're ready for an agent and a publisher. I'm a storyteller and I love the river, what can ya do? How else am I going to get my 55 year old blood pumping?

Peace and love,
Ellie

Promise Me...

So, our temps today were in the low 60's and tomorrow should be even warmer which is amazing   for the end of January.  I remember a frozen Potomac River two years ago in February, so maybe what my West Virginia neighbors tell me is true - hold onto your hats. They may be right because I heard that we might be getting snow this coming Friday. Hard to believe today as I cleaned my house in shorts and flip flops!

I opened the windows this morning and turned off the heat, hoping that the beautiful breeze coming through the windows would clear my house of any nasty winter bugs in the air. The house is clean and the air smells fresher. I needed this day to regroup and fill my wells, emotional and mental.

Earlier this month, I sent out three query letters and received two positive replies from two agents.  I was thrilled and gladly sent them the first three chapters.  It's been a scary month, waiting for replies from the agents; to say that I checked my emails a dozen times a day wouldn't be a lie.

In the meantime, I kept editing and rewriting my manuscript and managed to finish three fantastic books on writing that have permanent places on my writing shelves, The Scene Book - A Primer for the Fiction Writer by Sandra Scofield, The Forest for the Trees by Betsy Lerner and  The Writer's Guide to Character Traits by Linda N. Edelstein, Ph.D.  If you haven't read these books, find them!  I learned so much and with Scofield's advice and tips, I've rewritten many paragraphs that now read more polished and professional.

The books helped me remain calm, well, calmer during the waiting period.  Over the weekend, I received a very nice email from one of the agents telling me that she enjoyed reading my chapters, likes my writing style, but unfortunately the market isn't kind to historical novels.  They're hard to sell.  Well, I think my novel fits perfectly in women's fiction, as well.  Yes, the story begins in the 1900's, but the issues, challenges and themes of the women at that time aren't that much different from what women face today.

I wrote the agent back, thanking her for her time and for considering my novel. Although I was a bit bummed out, I also realized that I'd only sent three queries with two replies.  Not bad, Ellie, I told myself.  In 2006 I finished writing the novel and sent out 100 query letters and received eight positive replies from agents. My story hits a nerve and it's interesting, exotic and different. The consensus from the agents was that I had two stories in one. They recommended that I split the story and I was about to when my life turned upside down with a separation after a 25 year marriage.  The story remained in a box until earlier this year.

So, I'm okay.  I'm proud of my story and the story it has become with a long year of rewrites and a wonderful editor's help.  I've dusted myself off and vow to send as many query letters as I can this week. Did I hope that God and the stars would have taken pity on me and said, "She's paid her dues.  It's her time now"?  Yes, I did :) Hey, I'm human!

But, instead of sweating it, I decided to continue to enjoy, caress, love and make my story the best story I can write.  I decided (because it makes me feel better) that the market may be into chick lit and present day stories at the moment, possibly because this economy has many of us stressing out about money, jobs and we need light reading. Maybe historical novels or novels set in the 1900's require a certain type of reader, audience and agent.  Could be.  But, I'm not giving up, not by a long shot.

I'm not going to flail around and tread water during this time and I'm not going to sink like a rock, either! Time has shown me that I'm a fighter and a survivor.  A marital separation, a trans-Atlantic move, losing my house, and divorce didn't do me in and this won't either.  I'll find the right agent who loves and believes in my story as much as I do. Could someone please help the economy!

I prefer to look at this time as a gift because every time I turn around, I'm learning more and more about writing and the writing life.  I don't remember who said it, but several authors have written that I need to enjoy the time before publication and new challenges come up with selling books and keeping readers reading my book.  I'll never be a virgin again :)

Peace and love,
Ellie