Good-Bye, Simple Life

When I started this blog about writing my first novel, I had no idea of the complexities of the world of publishing and selling books. I didn’t know that the writing of the book would be the easy part.

There was a time when I read the daily blogs of many, many people, keeping up on details of their lives and projects. I enjoyed the interaction, the making of new friends. We talked about our dreams. We dreamed about telling stories that others would read and enjoy. Together–at our own pace–we put one foot in front of the other and started the Writer’s journey. We encouraged each other.

Man, I loved those times!

Then came knowledge–cover design, marketing strategies, book conferences, interacting with the media, and more. Intermingled with all of this is the grind of the re-write and editing, editing, editing.

Plus, I have work outside of writing. And family and friends who need nurturing. And it’s summer: the grass is growing; the garden needs weeding, the ants taking over my house need murdered; the animals need care and play time.

I have complicated my life–by choice–in so many ways. Even though I have given up commercial farming, there is no spare time in the schedule. In fact, I am busier than I ever was. And I am trying to get the #$%^# novel finished!

Okay. Now that I have bawled like a baby and thrown a tantrum, let me say this–I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe one thing. Me. I’d change me to be better organized, less frazzled, less fearful of the unknown, more optimistic about the future. But I wouldn’t change a thing about the craziness of the book world I have embraced.

Simply said, “Good-bye, Simple Life.”

What We Write About When We Write

What we write about when we write.

Please, please take the time to read this wonderful article (click the link above). It explores the agony of creation, the search for the perfect telling of the story, the revisiting of person, place and thing for the sake of getting it right.

Once I concluded my reading of it, I was revived to write. I realized that the wall I am hitting in my work is simply a part of the greater process. Now I embrace the wall, wrapping my arms around it, pressing my chest against its coolness, smelling the stale scents trapped in the paint. By entangling my essence with what stops my writing, I change both the obstacle and my response to it.

Grieving Today. . .and Tomorrow

Last night I sold a good friend. Today I am grieving.

My husband is no longer able to ride. His horse has been in the field, unused, for two years– the period of time during which Hubby has had both knees replaced and his heart rebuilt.  The companion to his horse is Sugar Baby, an ancient but healthy mare that was my riding horse until last year, when she tore a muscle in a field accident.

During the course of Sugar Baby’s recovery, I bought a Racking Horse named Jake to ride. Jake is gaited and riding him is easier on my battle-worn body — I have a history of multiple falls from horseback, so my body is beat-up and sore.

But Sugar Baby will always be the best horse I ever had the privilege to ride. She and I were so well matched that she seemed to read my mind. She always did what was asked of her and always took care of me, her rider. On mornings, she would  stand in her spot at the fence and stare toward the front door of the house. The minute she saw movement, she would neigh, asking for breakfast. When I worked around the barn, Sugar usually supervised, nickering softly when I talked to her.

In these erratic times, we are like many other households in the United States. We have our own economic downturn going on in our personal finances. At the end of October, a reckoning of accounts demanded austerity. Logic dictated that two horses that were going unused must go.

Maintaining a horse is expensive. Beyond the cost of food and shelter, there are farrier, vet and grooming expenses. Not to mention winter blankets and the like.

So the mares were sold.

I don’t have the attachment to my husband’s horse Missy that I do to Sugar Baby. Even in advanced age, she is beautiful in my eyes. And she caught the eye of someone else. I find peace that she has a home. But I am grieving that she’s gone.

 

 

 

Quotation for 10-17-2012

The world is all gates, all opportunities.

 

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

Quote July 4, 2012

Life is an adventure, and every fork in the road is new potential.

— Amanda Zahn, blogger and American soldier

Casting Aside Fear

WordPress blogger Veehcirra quotes Steve Jobs in her post “The Top 10 Regrets in Life by Those About To Die.” Although Jobs references death in the quote, I see his remark as sharing a tactic he developed for himself to shed fear, to choose what is important. See what you think:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

–Steve Jobs