Election year . . . unrest throughout the world . . . wild weather . . . new pestilence . . . all valid reasons to push the panic button. For me, it's the fear of growing old. Running out of time. Leaving things undone.
I currently have six Young Adult/New Adult manuscripts in various throes of creation, four of them in two, separate series. And if that wasn't enough, my wicked creative brain has manifested three adult contemporary romances, and one time traveler kicking the moors somewhere in the Baltic region.
The other night, my brother, who lives in Long Island and is also a writer, calls me and tells me I need to resurrect my YA vampire novel, currently gathering dust in a binder on my bookshelf, and revamp it (pun totally intentional) around the mansions at Sand Point, New York. Yeah, you guessed it. My brain let out a shout and kept me awake with vivid scenes I've hen-scratched on sticky notes, that now decorate the outside of my desk drawers. The feng shui my office had a year ago, has disappeared beneath mounds of creative clutter.
And thus, the reason I operate on constant anxiety. These stories take turns running little movie clips inside my head all day . . . and night. The last time I had a dreamless night was after surgery and with the help of some heavy-hitter painkillers. All I want to do is write - get these stories published, although I feel certain as soon as one hits the virtual bookstore, another idea will fill the quiet void.
Three years ago, I became the legal guardian of both my parents and am now their primary caretaker. At times, it's like dealing with eighty-plus-year old toddlers, and other times, like herding cats. I'm watching Dementia steal a little of my dad everyday and I worry that my fate may take the same path and all my wonderful stories will remain unfinished. A series of unanswered questions on my plotting beat sheets.
While I've been working on detoxing my life of negativity, my fear ego is strong and sometimes seeps through my sunshine armor, chipping away my resolve. But this month brought me a new conviction, through an unconventional conduit. I am stronger than my fears, and I respect myself enough to stand up to those who nurture my insecurities, even if they're unaware that is the effect their words or actions have upon me. In my heart of hearts, I believe this gift, and that's what I consider my talent to be, is what will stave off the memory demons, keep me young, and fill my well with joy. If I make a few bucks along the way, I'll consider the payoff as sprinkles on an already iced cake.
I'm going to "walk the talk." Put my writing time on the top of my to-do list, not the bottom. And make "me" a priority. Whatever life throws at me, I can handle. I've already experienced various stages of "the worst" and I'm pretty sure I've taken the tour of Hell, so if anyone feels inclined to wish me a trip there, I'll pack for the heat.
In other words, I'll take the lemons and make lemonade. I'll choose the positive side of the road, and not be bitter, but better. Trust me, life is too short for anything else.
As always, thanks for stopping by. I adore each of you. And while you're here, share your lemonade story, if you're so inclined. You never know who needs to hear you made it out of the tunnel.
Harley Brooks
Found this delightful video on Facebook. Enjoy!
I currently have six Young Adult/New Adult manuscripts in various throes of creation, four of them in two, separate series. And if that wasn't enough, my wicked creative brain has manifested three adult contemporary romances, and one time traveler kicking the moors somewhere in the Baltic region.
The other night, my brother, who lives in Long Island and is also a writer, calls me and tells me I need to resurrect my YA vampire novel, currently gathering dust in a binder on my bookshelf, and revamp it (pun totally intentional) around the mansions at Sand Point, New York. Yeah, you guessed it. My brain let out a shout and kept me awake with vivid scenes I've hen-scratched on sticky notes, that now decorate the outside of my desk drawers. The feng shui my office had a year ago, has disappeared beneath mounds of creative clutter.
And thus, the reason I operate on constant anxiety. These stories take turns running little movie clips inside my head all day . . . and night. The last time I had a dreamless night was after surgery and with the help of some heavy-hitter painkillers. All I want to do is write - get these stories published, although I feel certain as soon as one hits the virtual bookstore, another idea will fill the quiet void.
Three years ago, I became the legal guardian of both my parents and am now their primary caretaker. At times, it's like dealing with eighty-plus-year old toddlers, and other times, like herding cats. I'm watching Dementia steal a little of my dad everyday and I worry that my fate may take the same path and all my wonderful stories will remain unfinished. A series of unanswered questions on my plotting beat sheets.
While I've been working on detoxing my life of negativity, my fear ego is strong and sometimes seeps through my sunshine armor, chipping away my resolve. But this month brought me a new conviction, through an unconventional conduit. I am stronger than my fears, and I respect myself enough to stand up to those who nurture my insecurities, even if they're unaware that is the effect their words or actions have upon me. In my heart of hearts, I believe this gift, and that's what I consider my talent to be, is what will stave off the memory demons, keep me young, and fill my well with joy. If I make a few bucks along the way, I'll consider the payoff as sprinkles on an already iced cake.
I'm going to "walk the talk." Put my writing time on the top of my to-do list, not the bottom. And make "me" a priority. Whatever life throws at me, I can handle. I've already experienced various stages of "the worst" and I'm pretty sure I've taken the tour of Hell, so if anyone feels inclined to wish me a trip there, I'll pack for the heat.
In other words, I'll take the lemons and make lemonade. I'll choose the positive side of the road, and not be bitter, but better. Trust me, life is too short for anything else.
As always, thanks for stopping by. I adore each of you. And while you're here, share your lemonade story, if you're so inclined. You never know who needs to hear you made it out of the tunnel.
Harley Brooks
Found this delightful video on Facebook. Enjoy!
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