A place for those wandering the dark wood of life, writing, and spirituality

Tag: happiness (Page 1 of 2)

Nature Is Happiness

That is it for today, my words of wisdom. Find Happiness in nature. This was a beautiful walk with one very special little person and his equally special father. I was hoping the wildflowers would be blooming and they were. This wasn’t a particularly long walk due to a backache, but it isn’t the length of the walk that counts, it’s the quality. Now get outside and love the day! Happy Saturday! All of this is copyrighted content, the pictures are mine. No taking without my written consent.

Allerton: https://allerton.illinois.edu/

Previous Forest Posts: https://kaiyahartauthor.com/robert-allerton-park/

https://kaiyahartauthor.com/the-forest/

Let No Man Define You

Reposted because it is worth remembering. Go do you, my lovlies, and don’t you ever let someone else trample your dreams.

***

Okay, look. I’m not doing a class on how to be a writer – as established at the beginning of this blog – and this has nothing at all to do with this month’s forest theme. But, sometimes, certain people need to hear the truth. Namely, people who want to write, and the people who declare they can’t. Screw them, btw.

I don’t care if it’s your mom, your dad, your sister, your lover, or your reflection. If they are telling you that being a writer is for other people, people who are magically special, somehow, they are wrong. W.R.O.N.G. You want the horrible – and beautiful – truth? There is only one criteria for being a writer. You write. Like WOW, right? No, we aren’t special just because we write. But that’s the beautiful thing. We are ordinary. We live next door, on the bottom floor, in ordinary houses, and under the stairs… wait… sorry, that last one is stalker, not writer. Our abilities are quiet and not very remarkable to watch. But we have this determination to capture the world by placing words in a particular order. Writers aren’t special in the way of being better than anyone. Just in the way they relate to words. Accountants like numbers. Computer programmers can understand the language of computers. And writers tell stories. It is beautiful and it is work. If writers were, somehow, different from everyone else on earth, then how could they ever write about ordinary people? And who wants to read something they can’t see themselves in?

Someone tonight tried to hint that I’m going around trying to impress people by pretending to be a writer. Which shows exactly how little they know about me. My single biggest talent is having an intense imagination. Think Walter Mitty level intense. It is, in almost every other area of my life, a burden and a disability. Because connecting fully with reality is hard for me and I’m extremely distracted on my best days. In school this translated to abysmal grades. I suffer from insomnia because my head refuses to turn off. During conversations, I sometimes go bye bye and that means people think I don’t care what they have to say. Of course, it’s just that brain of mine getting away from me. But my writing allows me to use that annoying quirk.

What I’m saying here is that 1, a flaw is just something you haven’t figured out how to use to your advantage and 2, you want to write? WRITE. We need more books; the movie reboots are getting really old. And I need more stories to read. But, when someone looks down their nose at you and suggests that writing isn’t *real* work, ask them to sit down and write you a short story. One that’s good. Hell. One that just makes sense. Yeah. That makes them give the haughty ‘I could if I wanted’. And maybe they could. But they are too busy trampling all over you, spending their time trying hard to kick the legs out from under your chair and never asking themselves why they feel like they need to. So, there’s that. I don’t lift anything. I don’t break a sweat every day. I’m not saving the world. I am using what the universe gave me to give other people something that might make them smile. Or cry. Or check under the bed at night. And you know what? I am darn happy with that. Is it easy? Not always. It’s work. But it is work I love. As far as I’m concerned, if the definition of work means everyone has to hate their job and always be struggling just to make themselves do it in the name of money, count me out. I’d rather live under a bridge and pan handle on the street than spend eight hours a day and 60 years doing something that murders my soul in the name of gaining whatever pale, pathetic sliver of respect this would earn me from people who would then proceed to jump on all my other faults – and there are plenty. I’m not a fairy princess. Duh. But I’m good with that; I’m a collector of weird and a lover of words. That is so much better in my book. Life is too short for you to go around hating it. Too. God. Damned. Short.

So. You want to write? Go write. And, whenever someone tells you that it isn’t work and you aren’t smart/special enough, remember. Screw them. Define who you are and what you’re capable of and remember that bitter, angry people only want one thing. Company at their table of misery. Live to inspire. Live to lift other ordinary people into their happy place. Because running around telling people they are not good enough is a sad, unhealthy way to spend your life. Poison the well and you will only have poison to drink. Fill it with goodness and watch yourself thrive.

Tomorrow I’ll be bringing you part one of a short fantasy novella that is set in a very special forest AND an introduction to my favorite place on earth. Allerton Park. If you love forests, don’t miss it šŸ˜šŸ˜šŸ˜ peace out!!!

Luck And The Undead Horse

This is a repost of my own work. Like everything else it is, of course, copyrighted and may not be reproduced without my written permission. I feel the need to say this once in a while just because.

****

Iā€™m going to tell you a gaming story. But it isnā€™t really about gaming. It is just the best way for me to express why Iā€™m angry. Okay. Not angry. Justā€¦ irritated.

Irritated because there are a few, truly lucky people in the world.

But Iā€™m not one of them. And resent the implication that I am.

Irritated because, sometimes, people get something for nothing.

But Iā€™m not one of them. And resent the implication that I am.

Irritated because Iā€™m damn proud to be who I am, damn proud of everything Iā€™ve done to get here, and damn proud of my determination to keep climbing up.

I am one of those people. And suggesting Iā€™m just lucky is an attempt to cheapen everything Iā€™ve done to get here.

This is a real life post, but I’m using a game because it is so much easier to get a big picture. I used to play WoW (World of Warcraft). I donā€™t anymore for personal reasons, part of which includes locking on to a dream which transcends the desire to disappear into someone elseā€™s fictional world; I want to create my own. I didnā€™t play WoW for the raiding, I didnā€™t do PvP. Itā€™s not my thing to go around knocking other people off their horses and, quite honestly, I want you to know, if you happen to be one of those people that thinks that means I shouldnā€™t play the game, perhaps you should take time for yourself to consider why you insist such a huge, open game (life), with so many alternate realities, would be better if everyone did it exactly the same way. Because that sounds pretty boring to me.

But this isnā€™t about trolls in the game. This is about about the way I live my life. I game like I live. Iā€™m a collector of beautiful things – and not all those things are objects that can be owned. Iā€™m that girl who sees what she wants and will go after it, day in, day out, week after week, year after year, until she gets that thing. Maybe I change my mind sometimes. Mostly I donā€™t because this is me: I do a bunch of research, ask myself if I really like this thing and think it is pretty enough to dedicate myself to, ask myself a bunch more questions about motives, ask other people who have the thing what they think about it, and, finally, decide I want said thing. Which is the same as saying I have now decided that no power on earth will dissuade me. I have a stalker personality, luckily, I learned young not to seize up on people rather than goals. Once I lock on, I donā€™t know how to tag out. Not without a whole lot of reason. The goal may change a little. The course may not quite be the one I thought I would take. But, by god, I am willing to play the long game because I will succeed.

I am one of those people.

So, in WoW, there was something that used to get to me, way more than someone trying to force me to play the game their way or force their bad decisions on me and question my loyalty when I refused. It got to me even more than the drama people bring to this place where everything is just pixels and playā€¦ or should be. And that thing is a word. One. Word.

Luck.

I donā€™t hate the word for what it is. I hate it for what it does.

I hate it because it steals the validity of a personā€™s hard work, because it implies that somehow I, or someone else, has cheated, even if indirectly, and because it makes it okay to laugh behind your hand at someone who has done what you could not and devalue everything theyā€™ve gone through to get there. Let’s be real super, uber clear darlings. If you are not willing to do what I did, if you are not willing to go through everything it took to get there, then you do not really want it. And that is not my fault. I will not take responsibility for you not magically getting everything you want without chasing it down like a starving tiger.

Let me explain a few gamer things. I have mounts (horses, dragons, flaming winged lions, that sort of mount). I collect lots of things, battle pets, clothes (cause they were pretty), hunter pets, toys, but mostly mounts. And I have a few that are legendary for their rarity. The Headless Horsemanā€™s mount. The Fiery Warhorse. Invincible. Only one of those was luck. I have Onyxiaā€™s mount, I have the yellow and pink make a wish phoenix (Ashes of Alā€™ar), and the dragon from the Throne of the Four Winds. Only one of those was luck. I have over a three hundred mounts, including Huolonā€™s (dear How Long, I do miss you) lightning sheathed spawn, the Sha of Anger’s heavenly child, and, yes, Invincible. I can keep listing them and still count lucky with one hand whilst missing a finger or two.

And yet. I heard it over and over again. Every time a mount dropped or I came across that hunter pet, like the ghost tiger. You are so lucky. Usually spoken with a bitter inflection. Spoken as though I somehow tricked the game or rolled an ace when I rolled my account. Or was sleeping with someone who gave me everything I wanted in return. Any attempt to explain mathematics and the laws of probability was promptly shut down by the anger that I had what they didnā€™t. So let me give you a hit of reality, princess. You all know who you are, because this isnā€™t a post about a game. This is a post about life. And the people who scoff at hard work are always there.

Lucky comes easy. Lucky means you donā€™t appreciate what you have because you didnā€™t work to get there. Lucky expects to be lucky and never quite knows what to do when they have a bad run. And thatā€™s just fine. For them. But using the word lucky for someone like me is like saying you didnā€™t want to win just because you lost.

Quick WoW game mechanics. You can run dungeons about ten times an hour and raids, no matter how old they are, once a week. And all the best mounts are in raids or dropped by a world boss like Houlon, a black dragon covered in lightning. Invincible is a skeletal, undead horse notoriously difficult to get because the raid that drops him has a 1% chance (maybe more now, but I doubt by much). Stay with me, this isnā€™t about the game. Invincible’s drop rate can be applied to pretty much all the big wows in real life. You want to guess the number of people that truly succeed in pretty much any portion of life and their chances of actually getting that success before they chased it down and tackled it like a lioness on a zebra?

Oh, Iā€™ve been trying to get Invincible for years! Iā€™m just unlucky. You donā€™t know what thatā€™s like! No. You arenā€™t unlucky. Youā€™re lazy. Yes, I said it. Lazy. You, every once in a while, go into Icecrown and run through thinking today is your lucky day. And when it isnā€™t, you spend the next three weeks pouting and hating someone else for having the damn horse. In all, you have spent less than a year trying to get that horse and more than one pouting about not having it. Or being mad about that guild run when it dropped, everyone rolled, and you didnā€™t win. Instead of accepting that it wasnā€™t your time, you felt sorry for yourself. You should have been clomping back in there next week and trying again. And again. And one more time. Whatā€™s more, if you really wanted it, youā€™d have done just that and you would have done it on every character you have.

Oh, you are just lucky, nobody gets the Horsemanā€™s Reins. Oh dearheart. Would you like a detailed rundown of the year and a month I spent planning my week around the raids I was doing just to get mounts I wanted? How about those three days where I ran the Deepholm dungeon over and over, as many times as I could per hour, to get the spiky dragon? Or the two weeks I spent on Timeless Isle camping How Long? Well, that one wasnā€™t work; I met some amazing friends and we had so many laughs that, sometimes, Houlon would spawn and Iā€™d be surprised it was time. Because that is me. If we are all going to be sitting here, lets have some fun, lets make some memories, and, most of all, lets cheer for those who get the mount. Because that is what life is really about. This big, weird journey where, sometimes, you find yourself sitting on a flipping hill, waiting for a dragon with twenty other people. You can whine that the dragon isnā€™t coming or mope because you didnā€™t get the treasure, or you can make some friends, have some fun, and realize the treasure is only a small part of this game of life. And I made some very real friends waiting for that dragon. I plan on making a hell of a lot more chasing my new dragon.

But that doesnā€™t mean I ever let go of my goal. It just means I have to be here if I want it, so you better believe Iā€™m going to make it as fun as I can. Which is why I got 99% of the mounts I wanted. It was work. But I enjoyed doing it, so it was also play. I’ll write another post about that, sometime. That last 1% was just me finally locking on to my real dream and deciding I want to succeed at writing rather than continue to chase pixels. Sometimes you sacrifice the smaller goals for the larger. But. While I was playing, I was getting whatever I decided I wanted. Some people want high PvP scores, I wanted a dragon with purple crystals coming out of its back. I donā€™t have the biggest collection; I rarely have the gold for an expensive mount, though many kind people have given me gifts – also not luck, but a fantastic bunch of friends. But, in my collection, is more than one mount that makes people suggest Iā€™m stupid lucky and shuffle off, not sure they can stand being around someone so blessed. No, my dear. It didn’t work like that. Iā€™m stubborn and I have a deal with the loot gods. Iā€™ll come back as often as I can and, eventually, they will give me what I want. If only to get rid of me. Which is a really funny way of saying I understand mathematics. And what those people were really shuffling off from was the suggestion that they take a good look at themselves and decide what they want instead of moaning about what I have. They were being spoiled little jerks determined to drag everyone else down into self hate and envy land and, again, that is more about life than about games.

So, just a quick and dirty rundown on the mechanics of ā€˜luckā€™. If you have a wheel upon which there is a tiny, one percent wedge of jackpot, there is always a chance of rolling that jackpot. Always that single chance, when the wheel is spun, that it will land on the big number wedge. And the law of mathematics says, at some point, for reasons too scientific to explain without words longer than your arm and a decent working knowledge of physics, that wheel will land on that wedge. It is inevitable. How many times do you have to spin? Youā€™re asking the wrong question. The right one is how many times are you willing to spin it? For me, the answer is ā€˜as many times as it takesā€™. Because, at some point, that wheel will land where I want it to. How long it takes is not my business. If I want that jackpot, in my mind, I canā€™t afford to care about how long. I just have to accept that Mathematics is always right, know that the laws mean, eventually, it must happen, and keep spinning because that is my business. Or, I can turn into a whiny bitch after one spin, or a hundred, and walk around blaming others because they have it – and it doesnā€™t matter if they spun once or a thousand times, they are so lucky – and I donā€™t. But that is far more unlikely than the drop rate for success. See, Iā€™ll spin a thousand. Or two. Or three, if that is what it takes. I don’t quit.

Because I am one of those people.

Usually, it does not take a thousand spins. I figure the loot gods give it to me after a hundred because they know Iā€™m just going to keep showing up, smile in place, week after week, year after year, sword drawn and boots on, until what I want is in my bank. I donā€™t get attached to the destination. I try to love the journey. I put myself in that rhythm and nothing can stop me because it is just a part of how I live my life. And the truly weird part? When the mount drops I will have a moment where I realize Iā€™ve got to find another raid dropping a mount I want so that my weekly routine is not broken. I enjoy what I do. I love my work.

Iā€™m not a fan of the phrase ā€˜I make my own luckā€™. Itā€™s sort of cheesy and silly and doesnā€™t sound nearly as tough when a normal person says it rather than someone like Bond. But we all really do make our own luck. With the exception of those chosen few born to it and here is how I challenge any bitterness toward them.

Are they really lucky? Are they? They will never know the elation of that big win, that spin number 2694 when everything aligns and jackpot drops. They will never appreciate their luck because it is always there. The mounts that were pure luck on my list? The horsemanā€™s mount. And I was leveling up characters like mad to have enough for a decent shot, so I still did the work. And the Ashes of Alā€™ar (make-a-wish bird) where I stomped into the raid in pure fury because someone threatened to stop being friends with a friend of mine if she happened to get it before him even though she was showing up every week rather than once a month like him. Think of that as the guy in the office who calls in sick two or three times a month and gets pissed because you got a promotion he wanted, if that makes it more real for you. And I was furious. I was going to go after Ashes with a vengeance because I am flawed and sometimes get really mean toward people like that. It dropped on my first run. I still believe the loot gods threw that one to me the way youā€™d throw your steak down to a man eating tiger that had you cornered up a tree. I scared a lot of people that day. I still regret I couldnā€™t trade it to my friend who was doing the work, that I didn’t drag her along. Those arenā€™t my only luck mounts, but pretty close. I also once tripped across the Deepholm dragon after two weeks of camping him in my spare time because my friend and raid partner lost power for ten minutes and I decided to check.

But maybe you arenā€™t a gamer and you donā€™t understand the obsession with mounts. So let me put this another way.

DO NOT look at me and tell how lucky I am that I have five books on the market. That isnā€™t luck. That was hard goddamned work. The book fairy did not drop onto my desk and write those thousands of pages for me.

DO NOT talk about how many people like my posts and suggest that it had something to do with dumb luck. I try to inspire and I try to write in an entertaining manner because I am looking for readers for my books. If you like it, AWESOME, if not, that’s alright too.

DO NOT suggest that just because I am good at my job, I have somehow won a chance roll. I love to read and I love to write. But I work at that writing. I donā€™t just write it once and publish the first draft. Or the second or third.

I work. Two words that everyone who does anything creative ought to be well acquainted with. I do not decide, once a week or so, to get on my computer and mash a few buttons hoping for a word or a sentence. Remember that saying about the monkey on the typewriter eventually writing Shakespeare? Let me share with you a quote from a famous author – and I wish I could remember which one – who had a very dry and simple observation any writer will understand painfully well. ā€œBut would the words be in the right order?ā€

DO NOT try to convince me to quit just because you can’t see how I’m going to get something you can’t. I will prove to you I can. And then I will promptly tell you what to do with yourself when the word ‘luck’ comes falling out of your mouth. Here’s a hint. They rhyme.

DO NOT call me lucky. Call me diligent, stubborn, scarily focused, obsessive compulsive, or just plain crazy. But not lucky. Yes. My muse shows up pretty much every single day, now. That isnā€™t luck either. I took that bull by the proverbial horns and basically hung on until it quit ramming me into walls.

No.

I did better than that.

I talked to the bull, yelled at the bull, tried to beat the bull to death, tried to bribe it with hay and sugar cubes, and, eventually, made that damn bull my friend. I am developing a whole program for writers based on what Iā€™ve learned about writerā€™s block and how to get around it, through it, over it, under it, or, failing all else, apparate past it. You can join the program and I will personally coach you through the madness because I know the mechanics and I want to share my hard won knowledge. Just donā€™t expect me to do it for free; I have dogs to feed and a car payment to make. And donā€™t think Iā€™m going to baby you. Do your work. Iā€™ll do mine. Before you know it, youā€™ll be just like me, writing every single day for eight to ten hours a day with more on tap than you ever imagined you could possess – or in whatever manner actually suits you.

But. You better understand this. On those days when my muse doesnā€™t show up? I still freaking do and I don’t pause long enough to whine about why I want to go play video games instead. I have character blogs, I have patrons to satisfy (only one very awesome patron at the moment, but that is going to change pretty quick), and I have you fine people I enjoy writing to. I point myself at the goal, get on the horse, and keep moving forward. I show up and I get to work and, eventually, my muse shows up to tell me Iā€™m doing it all wrong. I am not lucky. I am glad Iā€™m not lucky. Because I know just how hard I worked to get where I am and I know just how much harder I am willing to work to get where I want to be. I understand and appreciate that there is always a way to get better, that I donā€™t know enough and never will. Iā€™m okay with that because that means Iā€™m willing to keep pushing for more. I donā€™t want to just create a story. I want to give you life in words. I want to give you books you come back to when youā€™re sad or your life is changing, or just because you want to visit your favorite characters. I want to be a bestselling author and I want to do it knowing I was present for every single step, that I gave my best, and that I chose every moment and luck was never exactly invited to the party or expected to RSVP. If he showed up, it was as someoneā€™s plus one and he was welcome, treated kindly, but never, ever expected to wash the dishes or come back for game night. For me, it is not a question of if. It is only a question of when and, baby, the only way to stop me is to kill me. Pretty sure, even then, Iā€™ll be down in my dungeon, typing away, scaring the new owners. Or looking for someone to possess so I can keep on writing. Yes, I’m aware I am frightening. I’m one of those people, too.

How hard will I chase this dream? How often will I show up with my sword in hand and a smile on my face? As often as Iā€™m allowed, my friend. And no-one, not my family, not my friends, not my haters, not even God will stop me. I do not pity the person that gets in my way. But I will pause as I ride over them on my undead horse to wish they had read this post and had the sense to move. And if you want to ride along with me, you are most welcome. BYOS. Bring Your Own Sword.

Aligning The Stars

Ooo, time for me to say something crazy….

Live as though you already have the life you are dreaming of.

I like that face you’re making. It’s the whole reason I have this adorable habit of circling the point (you know, like a vulture eyeing a body on the ground to make sure it’s really dead). Lol, so I’m going to say a few things and I want you to embrace how ridiculous they are because, I promise you, I have a point, it’s a good one, and you can apply it to pretty much anything.

I’ll eat better when I’m skinny.

I’ll work out when I’m not feeling so fat.

I don’t want to date anyone right now; I’m too busy envisioning that wonderful relationship I’ll have with my perfect partner.

I told you they were silly. They are also a good example of how our brains work to sabotage us and that is the point of this little rant. First, some background. A year ago, two years ago, ten years ago, twenty years ago, you could have asked me what I wanted to be and I would have said ‘a bestselling author’. No hesitation at all. And, just to highlight ridiculous things, I’ve actually had people say they will only read my books when I’m a bestselling author. Because I’m going to care what they think then. Right. Well, I don’t care so much now, so, all things considered, no big loss.

Anyway. I would have told you what I wanted and, well, you might even have believed me, but I can look back and see I didn’t believe myself and this looking back thing is something I recently did, though sort of on accident. I joined a group of writers planning a massive character blog story site set in a fictional town and I was talking to one of the other writers who noted how nervous they were and how out of character this was for them, which prompted me to say ‘I was the same way up to about three months ago’. And, as usual, that one fast response led me down the path of deep thought because it’s true. Three months ago you would be more likely to see me jump off a bridge into a shallow river full of glass than join this group, never mind plan two characters for it and make an initial test post. Hell, I wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to write about it in my blog, which I most likely would have abandoned at this point.

My thinking did not take me down the writing path, really. It was more down the law of attraction and understanding how it works path. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you to tuck your toes behind your ears and chant to magic your dreams to reality. In fact, reality and dreams are often massively different, as any parent who had pretty, pastel dreams of parenthood can tell you once they have been introduced to the mad, wild, decidedly muddy waters of actual parenthood. And that, my lovelies, is where we are going. This is about our personal stars and how to align them instead of praying for magic.

So, we humans do this thing. We picture our goals and how life will be once we have it and we say these ridiculous things like ‘I want to lose weight’ while shoveling in massive quantities of mashed potatoes and praying to the indigestion gods. What we say we want and our actual reality are at complete odds and guess which one is going to win every time. Then we hop on fad diets, lose weight, go back to the mashed potatoes, gain the weight back, wash, rinse, repeat, forever.

Or maybe not. If we catch the trick, sometimes we get off the merry-go-round.

So law of attraction says to live as though you already have the thing you want and that is, by far, the most problematic part for people to understand and is the first thing they laugh at. Yet I’m going to tell you why it isn’t just sensible. It’s scientific. I’m not going to use myself just yet, because I want you to really get this and I’m still a work in progress.

So I will use one of the biggest wants for women everywhere. To lose weight. Not just to lose weight, but to look sexy and knock everyone on their butts.

Take a generally healthy woman with the usual low to moderate self-esteem at Walmart. She sees this supermodel on the cover of vogue and maybe they even look a little alike, only the model in the magazine is talking about how she only eats chicken and that is how she maintains her sexy ribcage. Make matters worse, our girl’s boyfriend just broke up with her because she’s too heavy for him. So, as is so often the case, our girl in question buys the magazine and, even though she knows that it sounds too easy, she reads all about this model’s wonderful, fabulous miracle chicken diet. Our girl doesn’t like vegetables, can’t imagine a life without cheese or mashed potatoes, and hates to exercise. So she does the only sensible thing. She goes on that crazy fad diet and eats nothing but chicken for six months. And OH how much weight she loses. She feels sexy and maybe she doesn’t feel real great health wise, but look how those pants fit! She has attained her goal, right? Of course, now that she’s there, she goes right back to eating the same way she always has and what a relief. I mean, those six months were torture. And three weeks or two months later, she’s right back where she started.

Well.

Sort of.

Because now her body is pissed. So when she goes back on the fabulous chicken diet, not only does it not work, she starts gaining weight.

So she tries the next fad diet and the next, always ending right back where she started. Agonies! There is no point!! She gives up and who could blame her.

So, let’s rewind. Same woman, same knowledge that she wants to be slim and sexy and fit. Same likes and dislikes. But she passes on Vogue because, let’s face it, you aren’t getting anything that looks like truth from a woman who makes a starving Ethiopian village look like fat camp. So our girl sits down and has a little think about the reality of the life she wants. She doesn’t like vegetables all that much, but she doesn’t mind this or that one. And she loves cheese, but does she need the full bag of Cheetos? She does the research into weight loss and the science of sustaining it. She accepts that the goal is possible, but it won’t come overnight. She wants it as soon as possible, but having a maintainable loss is important too. So she makes a plan based on what she is willing to try out, with an eye on what other women who are everything she wants to be have done. But only half an eye because, well, they aren’t her.

So she changes the way she approaches her life, altering the things that she does, but only in a way that is natural to her. She replaces her snack eating on the couch with a treadmill because she does kind of like to walk and she can still binge on Supernatural while she’s doing it. She isn’t ready for the gym, but she’s discovered a natural curiosity about nutrition, so she takes an adult learning class and, hey, just because interacting with others keeps her from thinking too much about the Cheetos she doesn’t buy anymore, she also decides on an art class.

Pretty soon, she’s discovered that food is tasting different. Those veggies she thought she hated are tasting better because she isn’t assaulting her tongue with heavy salt and preservatives anymore. And she’s decided to try out this run walk program with Marjorie from nutrition class. Next thing you know, Marjorie has talked her into a 5k and she half thinks she’s being crazy, but our girl has decided ‘why not, I can walk part of the way’. Only Marjorie pushes our girl and they end up trotting the whole thing. It’s a slow jog, but it isn’t walking and the finisher’s medal is such a rush that our girl decides to sign up for another 5k. And another. Then, a year later, she’s running a marathon with Marjorie, they have a little arts and crafts store, and our girl leads a running group of women that are looking to train for a marathon because she’s discovered she has an aptitude for getting other women up and moving. Plus she’s adopted Mugs the husky because Marjorie and the other girls are great, but she sometimes just likes being out with a dog, like she used to do when she was ten. And, while she’s out with Mugs, this really hot guy stops her to talk about huskies – he has one too – and, next thing you know, they are running together with their dogs all the time and our girl has a rock the size of the Blarney Stone. Maybe in ten years they own a gym or maybe they aren’t together anymore at all, but, chances are, our girl will still be slim and fit and happy and when she thinks back on the person she used to be, she’ll smile and laugh at how hard she thought it was all going to be.

I did not tell you this story to make you join a gym. I told you this story because, when the law of attraction tells us to live like we already have what we want, it is very rarely explained properly. Maybe it’s a good thing to have to think it out for ourselves, but I’m like the woman in the story. I like to pull others with me on my way up. Even if I have to use duct tape and diamonds to get you there.

So I want you to pay attention to the difference in the stories because it is the only truly important thing. In one, our girl was determined and motivated (chicken for six damn months) and she was looking at the goal. In the other, she was determined and motivated and looking right were she was. The woman is the same person in both stories and, in a round about way, this is me. Twenty years ago, I wanted to be a bestselling author, so I wrote really hard and submitted a short story or two while maintaining that I was too shy to do it all the time. Mostly, I just prayed for a miracle. Five years ago, same thing with a few more stabs at blogs and contests. Two years ago. Same story, only now I have a massive case of writer’s block. And three months ago? Three months ago, I did something new.

First, I questioned the dream. Did I really want it? Enough to sacrifice for it? When the answer remained the same resounding YES it had always been, I started looking at my life a little closer. You could say I sat down to do the research and pick out the treadmill. I started looking for my miracle instead of waiting around for it to show up on its own. That is when I started really getting into the law of attraction and really inspecting my life. That is also when I started cutting things off. No toes or anything, I promise.

First, it was people. You can’t support my dream, that’s fine, but you need to no longer have a say in my life. Also, I’ll no longer be taking in your judgments for consideration. I need that headspace for this new thing I’m building. Then it was thought processes. I’m too shy for a blog and I don’t want to talk to anyone? Bull crap, I wouldn’t have a single book out if that was true and I actually love people, I just have no patience for whining and bitching and putting others down. Next? Do I really need to binge watch Supernatural before I sit down to edit this book? I mean, the show will still be there tomorrow, right?

That was step one. Step two was a bit scarier because I started this blog. I started showing up to the live webinars with the law of attraction people. No, I didn’t go to writing webinars because my writing isn’t the problem, so understand that. You have to find the stars that aren’t lining up. I paid for advertisements for my books. I started paying attention to what other authors did and picking out the things I thought I might be able to repeat. I’m still in that stage, fyi, looking for what works and what doesn’t. Right then, I was also at the stage where I wasn’t thinking so hard about stretching out, but I’m past that one now.

I’ve entered a new level of understanding since yesterday. It was only while I was talking to this person about the character blogs that I realized, quite suddenly, the full meaning of live as if. It isn’t fluffy unicorns and magical rainbows at all. I am building the life of a bestselling author around myself, right down to the environment. So I got to thinking about it really hard – circle, peck, circle, peck, oooo, an eyeball!

Oh how weird we humans are. We look at that bright, shiny goal and we don’t see it. No. We see the results. The money. The fame. the wonder of going to Hawaii first class and laughing at the suckers in economy with that kid kicking their seat every two seconds. All the hot guys fawning over us, all the clothes we’ll buy. We picture our fat bank account and dream of how happy we are going to be with all that money and… and… wait a second. Wasn’t my dream to be a bestselling author? I mean, the money is great and all, but where are the books? Where are the readers? What does that look like? I wasn’t aware my dream was to have lots of money and what’s with the guys? I’m kinda digging on being single. If it’s money I want, maybe I should start collecting dollar bills instead of books?

Here’s the thing. Yes, a bestselling author probably isn’t worrying too much about paying rent. But you know what else they probably aren’t doing? Flying to Hawaii to hang out drinking and not writing because vacations are vacations. Work is not about the vacation you are going to take. Work is about doing the work and, love it or hate it, that is the thing that brings the money. So I’ll spell it out for you. If you want a different life, then you need to live like you already have it. Not money wise. Living wise. And you don’t have to change who you are, exactly, just your behavior. Let me give you another small example.

Now, I don’t know any best selling authors, this is just me playing pretend about the life of one. I imagine he gets up in the morning. Maybe he makes his bed, maybe he lets his wife do that, but I’m guessing he does some normal human type things like brush the teeth, get some pants on, go for a walk with the dog. Or maybe he just puts the clothes on and walks right into his office to work. I imagine he spends a good deal of time writing on whatever book he’s currently working on, then maybe he visits twitter to talk about writing or Facebook to talk about what is next for his writing or a blog to talk about his newest character. Pretty much, this whole eight hour block of his day, give or take a break for lunch or to let the dogs out, is dedicated to doing writerly things, including talking to the people who buy his books in some form or another. People like Stephen King or Anne Rice don’t really need to do this anymore, even though they do, but let’s say this is a less big name big name. After he’s spent a good part of the day doing these writerly things, he stretches, goes to take his wife or kid to the movies, watches TV or, more likely, reads. In other words, he is living a perfectly ordinary day as a writer and, chances are, he was doing this long before he sold ten thousand books a week or whatever his numbers are.

Now, up to about three months ago, this was my day. Get up and make the bed. Ignore the mess of the environment around me. Feed my dogs, screw around on my computer a little and call it research, maybe even write on something or try to edit the books I’d been working on. And this was a good a chunk of my day, make no mistake, because I do love what I do. Here is what my day did not include. Any sort of interaction with other people if I could help it. Advertising my books in any way. Trying to find readers. Remember, I didn’t like people, or liked to pretend I didn’t. Then this epiphany hit me and I realized I really did want to be a bestselling author, exactly the same thing I’d always said I wanted, and, true to the type of person I am, I went into research mode. I looked into any possible way to manifest a miracle, which brought me to the law of attraction and that delivered enough proof that I opened my mind to all the possibilities, which inspired the next epiphany. Which was simply that there is no magic in the magic. There is science. You can’t say you want something and act like you want the opposite. I said I wanted it. But I wasn’t living like I did. Being a bestselling author isn’t just about writing. It is about the people that read it.

This is the difference between pastel shades of dream parenting and the actual muddy, crayon on the walls and in the poop parenting. In my dream I was floating around, happily jetting off to Hawaii or Florida or wherever without a single thought to what book I was writing, living in the results without picturing the actual living part, basically picturing the relationship without the actual partner anywhere in evidence. This realization eventually ended on the second, yesterday. When they say to live like you already have it, what they mean is to live like a bestselling author (or the person who is every day slim and fit), not like you’re rich and famous, but like a writer who is successful at being a writer. And when they tell you to picture it in detail, they don’t mean picture all the things you’ll have and lock onto it like having that thing means you’ve attained the dream. Because, if you want a big house, make that your goal instead of trying to go the round about way of being a bestselling author first.

So, when I came to this understanding, I asked myself again, because, this was a very new version. Do I really want bestselling thing? I mean, the real version. With the writing and the selling books and the finding readers bit.

Joy of joys, the answer was still yes, I am willing to sacrifice my hermit comfort to be the writer I want to be. I’ve already been doing it. I am willing to open myself up to my version of finding readers. And that is important; you have to be willing to find your own way because you can’t be anyone else. Seuss was right. Nobody else can be youer than you, so you can skip right over trying to eat like the chicken loving supermodel on the cover of vogue. Maybe eating nothing but chicken suits her, but you need something real. So you have to lose the weight in a manner that is all about you. Get it? I did. So I started shifting things. I started working different angles. I started chasing after this dream with a smile, some duct tape, and a ball bat. Hello blog, hello research, hello me trying to find a way to meet people without actually having to, you know, leave my dungeon.

I’m not wholly there yet, but I’m starting to sell more books. I have a Patreon page, which I love because I’m not just asking people for money; charity is not my bag. Patrons get something for their dollars. I added a tip jar to the blog because not everyone can swing a monthly bet on me, but, if I make you feel stronger about yourself, maybe you want to drop me a dollar. I talk about my books, but I do it in a way that is a friendly, ‘this is what I’m doing right now’ instead of trying to tape your eyeballs open and scream ‘READ IT, MONKEY!’ the way some twitter accounts seem to do. And, every day, I try to take one more step closer to the writing life I have in my head. I plan on starting a character blog this weekend (and finishing up a few things I’ve left hanging, but that one is up to the muse) and I’ve joined the group of character bloggers. I’m going to have the Patreon discussion about which project to start next and I’ll be adding the next installment to Damsel In Distress on Patreon and I’m looking forward to it because the princess is leaving the tower.

As I told the other writer, three months ago, I’d have run from almost all of this while screaming ‘BE GONE SATAN’ in a panic of ‘wait, no, I don’t want to write a character blog with a bunch of other writers’ flurry. Now I feel oddly confident because I’m following intuition and I’ve decided to embrace the crayon on the walls. There are always things about a job, no matter how much we love it, that we are less comfortable with than others. But the more we open ourselves up to things, the more we can discover that we do like. For instance, I love this blog. I love posting. I love those moments when I feel like I’ve inspired someone or cleared some clouds from their day. I love the daily riff and I love knowing that this is going to be a part of the final design because I’m more likely to give up writing altogether than to abandon this blog. I am also excited about working with these other writers because, well, I get to be in a group of people who enjoy the same things I do.

Just a little side note here. I am not just applying this to my writing. I am applying this to my entire life. I have maintained the clean in my space. I straighten and I use that physical action to smooth any ruffled feathers. I read more than I watch TV and I try, as much as possible, to make my outside life mirror the vision I have inside. Funnily enough, it has nothing to do with money; I could have a million dollars and happily live exactly as I do. So I consider that a sign I’m moving in the right direction.

This is how my life looks right now. I get up in the morning and I make my bed. Then I sit down to write. I’m editing the newest book, due out on May 23, the last of the books that was hiding away, waiting for me to decide what I was going to do during those last four years of my marriage falling apart. I might fiddle with my word magnets or I might talk to myself about what else I can be doing to get myself aligned with my life goals because it isn’t quite all there yet. I’m still searching for what works best. I am aligning my personal stars one by one. The point of this post was not to crow about reaching my ultimate goal. It was to clarify something and help others realize that they can start doing the same thing.

The best part of looking back is realizing I have changed without changing and this is something everyone on the planet can do. Yes, three months ago, I would have run from all of this. I would have run because I didn’t understand what this means to me. I would have run because I was afraid the universe would tell me no. I would have run because what if it didn’t happen. And now I stand up for it. I write and I join character blogging groups and create my characters because I’m not afraid anymore. I love my life and I’ll do whatever it takes to maintain what I have while making it better every single day. I connect with other writers and I help them to overcome their writer’s block and inspire them and anyone else I can get my duct tape around, to decide what star they want to follow. I do not expect to roll jackpot today or tomorrow or next week, I just know that it will happen when it is ready to happen and I’m good with that because it won’t change anything about the way I already am. I have re-formed my thoughts so that I think like a writer who is already a success. I am a writer and I live like I’m the bestselling author I want to be. And I binge Supernatural once in a while (still Team Dean!) because that is who I am. I will never be that person who drives, drives, drives without stopping. I need breathing time. I need my relax time. But I’m living like this is my job, not my hobby.

So go think about this. What do you want? What star do you want to chase? And how can you align yourself with it today? Have a beautiful night, the Daily Riff will be coming up in a few!

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Character Blogs

So lets talk Character Blogs. I didn’t even know this was a thing until someone posted in one of the creative groups on Facebook. I have to admit, the idea of it excites me to a stupid degree. I mean, I’ve read the business side (don’t do it, you lose credibility) but, considering that my business is both entertainment and selling fiction, it sounds like excellent advertising to me. Especially since I have a lot of characters with more to say outside their books and characters who sort of need a lead up to their books. The question is, which character do I start with? Eva? One of the princesses? Skylar?

I am leaning toward Skylar. I had her book professionally edited, then let it sit for four years in my email – long story. By the time I published it, I was floundering a little with this girl, who I wanted her to be, and who she had originally appeared to be. As a result the book, while good, does not have the fire and flare I meant it to. It isn’t Skylar’s fault; she’s got wit and sarcasm, and an outlook on the whole magical princess from a fairytale world that is nothing short of hilarious. She also turned someone into a penguin. She makes me laugh when I write her because it takes a very adaptable person to forgive and accept their personal bully as their new best friend, and adding the fact that he did, at one point, try to eat her (bad wolf) makes it that much more interesting. Don’t worry, it wasn’t abusive, he’s a werewolf and she had to do a little puppy training.

There is this dry, witty side to Skylar that started to really show at the end of the book and I really wanted to strengthen her in the next one, but I also wanted her to already be there; the first book is for realizing she’s really magical and not nearly the loser she might have thought. The second is all about building a hero. I did not want to return to her initial self doubt in the second book because Skylar’s journey is about growing up and realizing that who and what she is does not have to be defined by a few titles or how others see her. She’s past the point of trying to pretend bad things aren’t going to happen and way past believing that she has to look or act a certain way. For a little backstory, in Beneath a Separate Sky, Skylar Payne starts out clumsy, an ugly duckling in a family full of swans, and utterly convinced she’s a waste of space.

This was the challenge of the book, making her both realize she has worth and stop hating herself so much. She is bigger boned, shy, very much used to being invisible. She’s also secretly a princess, but she doesn’t know that until a werewolf pops out of a magical doorway. The school bully, for some reason, saves her, but gets bit. While Skylar, her brother, and the bully are trapped in this magical world, she starts to realize that she can’t spend her life hiding under beds anymore. And, just in case you are wondering, Skylar will never be the delicate, fainting version of a princess. She will always be a bigger girl because that is how she is built. This is not a story about how she magically becomes a supermodel because I wanted to write about the other kinds of beauty with this girl. She does turn into a swan, but not the pretty, delicate kind. More like the kind that comes flapping up out of the pond hissing and threatening to eat your face off. In other words, she’ll be more like the real thing. For those of you that don’t know, swans are a lot like geese. Meaner than a guard dog, more aggressive than a Tasmanian Devil. And they mate for life and will mourn a dead mate for a lifetime. So, mean birds or not, don’t hurt swans. I’m looking at you, tourist monster in Britain that killed one for a damn photo…. lost track, where were we? Oh yeah.

Skylar’s blog will not be set in Eris. This will be the time between books – there are two more rough drafted – while she is in Chicago. This is an odd time in her life because she is breaking out of the boundries that were set for her in the first book and discovering what she is capable of. I knew things weren’t going to be exactly the way she is used to them being in the next book, but I had fussed about with the beginning because I really didn’t want her to poof, magically turn into a warrior, but she had to get there pretty fast. Which is why the blog is such a good idea; time passes so much slower in Eris that she has time to make changes while she’s living in Chicago and the blog makes it so the next book doesn’t drag through the weeds so you understand how this girl went from one way to another. Not just the bully becoming her best friend and his family taking her in (and she has a massive crush), but learning her talents aren’t as turned off in our world as they were before she went to Eris. I knew that she was a catalyst for some pretty strange stuff in our world – like Harry Potter blowing up his aunt type strange – but I didn’t want to start the next book with that. I knew that the events in the next book require her to embrace warrior princess status, but wasn’t sure how to do that while also dealing with Prince Not-So-Charming – of course he hasn’t given up, do guys like that ever give up – her parents, and her status as some kind of savior.

I’m trying to get Patreon moving and I plan on putting a tip jar up on this blog – dogs gotta eat, editors and cover artists gotta get paid – and this seems like the best way to introduce everyone to the fiction I sell and to find my readers. Plus, practice! I’m working on getting better all the time, so this cannot possibly hurt. What are the chances that a lot of my characters jump on this blog wagon? Well, considering how much they scream for attention, pretty high. One, in particular, is going to be popping up and I’m nervous about that one. We are way, way pre-book publishing with her and I don’t usually share characters before I have a book to point to and go ‘yeah, I did create her and will burn you to a cinder for stealing’. But, since the act of creating something means you have copyright and this character has about two written and dated notebooks to her legacy already, I can prove she’s mine. I’m also pretty sure the same copyright laws apply to blogs. I don’t care if you re-post it and give me credit. But don’t steal from dragons. It is just not smart.

This will not be the same stuff you’d get from pledging to Patreon. That stuff will be the super secret squirrel stuff that only the supporters get, designed and written expressly for them. Sorry, but I won’t be giving everything away. So I’ll post a link to Skylar’s blog in the next few days and we’ll have a test run. What do you all think?

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