#IWSG #Writing #Writerslife Where I’d Love To Write My Next Story

This month’s question for IWSG (for more  info on the Insecure Writer’s Support Group click here): If you could pick one place in the world to sit and write your next story, where would it be and why?

 

There are so many places around the world I’d love to visit and use as inspiration for a story; but, I kept going back to one general area.

Adirondack Mountains. 

And a place where I would write that story?

Mirror Lake Inn. 

These mountains are where I grew up. A place I will always call home no matter where I live. It’s a place where my heart and soul are constantly longing to return to. And it’s a place I haven’t been back to for twenty years.

*Sigh*

Mirror Lake Inn is a resort located in Lake Placid.

Lake Placid, New York
Site of 1932 & 1980 Winter Olympics

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lake Placid is a quaint but magical village just a short seventeen miles from my childhood home.

Downtown Lake Placid

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And why Mirror Lake Inn?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I grew up in the area, I’ve always heard how great this place was.  And being a resort, I’d love to come here where all my needs are met so I can focus on the writing while basking in the beauty of my surroundings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Judging from the pics, this place is gorgeous!

Spending a week here would do wonders for my muse and for my mental health. I’d be outdoors every moment of the day for sure!  Best time to visit?  These mountains are simply breathtaking in the fall so that would be my first choice.

Can I afford this?

Mmm, at this point, not really. But who says I can’t dream about visiting one day?

*Sigh*

 

 

(I apologize if you see huge gaps in between images and paragraphs.  WordPress won’t allow me to format them any closer).

 

Ramblings and Current Happenings #Writerslife

For being nearly the middle of May, 2019 thus far has felt like a very l-o-n-g year.

With at least eight blizzards (between middle of January to early April) which kept us buried in several feet of snow, and then hubby was furloughed by the Federal gov’t for over 30 days, and then the near historic flooding of the Red River (thank goodness it was no where near the magnitude of the 1997 Flood, but bad enough)….

And even though it’s officially Spring, it still doesn’t feel like it up here.  Temp during the nights still bottom out in the upper 20s, and daytime highs rarely reach above 60…

Guess I am hoping for a nice change in the current pattern of things.

I’m ready for warm weather and lots of sunshine.  I’m also ready to get out of the house and interact with people.  These would be so good for my mental health as it has tanked in recent weeks.

Currently, I do have some potential outings coming up.  In early June, I will be spending one full week at the School for the Blind for their Adult Week (will go more in detail at a later posting).  The Fall will bring opportunities to fly out of state; one, to attend a Buffalo Bills’ game (either in Buffalo NY, or wherever we can score three affordable tickets), and second, with my hubby at one of his training sessions (San Antonio is a distinct possibility, or maybe even San Diego–yippee!).

The past several days I’ve been mulling over whether or not to apply to a few writers residencies. The one I am most interested in is at Hedgebrook -located on Whidbey Island (near Seattle).

I love my guys, but I need to spend some time away for a while and be me, the writer and mingle with other creatives who truly get me.  Now it’s a matter of sitting down and figuring out what my next project should be.  At this point, I know I want it to be a collection of essays; just have to decide on a theme.

Next week, I am hoping to check out a local writing group in Grand Forks, Northern Ink.

For me, a busy body makes for a healthier mindset.

Let’s roll.

At the Crossroads #IWSG #Writing

Have you ever gone through a period of time when no matter how hard you tried to do something, or in my case – complete a novel, you just can’t quite get there?

For years and years, I believed I was meant to be a fiction writer especially of suspenseful (and at times, horror) stories.  I still enjoy writing these stuff, but there’s a growing part of me that keeps telling me to shift my focus/attention to poetry and essays. I’ve resisted, well I tried to anyway, against this quiet tugging until recently.

In February and April of this year, I’ve participated in various month-long blogging/writing challenges where my original intentions were to focus on flash/micro fiction (suspense/horror kinds) and maybe sprinkle a few poems in there.

Well, I ended up writing mainly poetry. It wasn’t planned. It just happened that way.

As I wrote these poems, it occurred to me how the muse had tricked me (by the way, I’m nicknaming her “Trickster” from now on). All through these two months, whenever I picked up a pen (hovered my fingers over the keyboard), my first instinct was to write poetry – not fiction.

Wow…it hit me then (specifically, during the last week of April). I might have already said this in a guest post I wrote for another blog, but never truly believed in my heart at the time — I’m a writer of many things, but the essence of me is a poet.

Okay, I will admit that the Trickster (formerly known at “muse”) had been right all along — but…

Now what?

X Marks the Spot

Nearing the end of April, I find myself reading over the poems I’ve written for both NaPoWriMo and A to Z Challenge, and it kind of struck me how dark some of them sounded.

This must be me in some kind of funk (aka depression). The poem, Lonely, kind of nailed it on the head –

I sit at the window
And watch

As the world
Leaves me
Behind

This is exactly how I feel. Long story short, my hubby works long hours and travels out of state much of the time, and a son who’s busy with high school, sports, and hanging with his friends, so I am alone at home most of the time.

When I “retired” in 2015, I was looking forward to being home, and to be able to write without any time restraints. That same year we left the hectic city life that was Raleigh, NC and moved up to a farmstead just outside Grand Forks, it was just what I needed. I’d been battling anxiety which was steadily worsening and meds were not helping. With wide open spaces, I felt I was finally able to breathe.

Nearly four years later, anxiety is almost non-existent but depression is starting to take over my life. I mean, I am only in my 40s, and I feel I still have much to live for.

Everything that has happened to me, all the crap I went through, and the losses I’ve experienced, and they all come down to this—me, sitting at home, alone with just my laptop and nine cats.

I write, a lot. I interact with people via internet. But, I want more. I want to get back out into the world. I no longer want to hide and be left behind.

But, I am hampered with limitations of all kinds.

I don’t drive. There is public transportation but it’s limited to certain days and to certain places (none of where I’d love to go).

In the time I’ve lived here, I haven’t been able to establish any real friendships within the community (they tend to be quite “clicky” when it comes to “outsiders”).

Yet, with my hubby and son who practically can fend for themselves, I have no limit as to what I can do and where to go as far as time and availability. How do I narrow the chasm and break through to the other side?

As I sit here typing, there is a window next to the desk where I can watch birds pecking away on a pile of seeds my guys threw down weeks earlier, I am struck by how free they are to fly wherever they want yet they are limited. Limited by weather conditions and availability of food. These two determine where and when they fly. These limitations though do not seem to affect their attitude as they sing and flitter to and fro. Why? They take what they have in whatever condition things are and fly and sing anyway.

Yes, they have limitations but these do not stop them from being birds who still find ways to fly and sing to their little heart’s desire.

I want to do the same.

So, I will start with what I have and where I am at, and go from there. It’s time that I fly free regardless of my current limitations, and see where the sky leads me.

Caged #IWSG

“Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage.”
― Richard Lovelace

For those of us who are attempting or have attempted to write our story (I’m referring to the story of our lives whether it’s a memoir or through short stories or poems), something always seem to stop us from finishing it (or in my case, starting).  It’s like there this solid wall blocking my way, more specifically my pen, from getting the words out of my head.

The words are there and so are the images, but I feel like my head (or something else altogether) is like a cage keeping them within invisible bars.

It is so utterly frustrating.

I keep asking myself – what’s holding me back?

Fear.

Fear of what? 

Of hurting someone who I love? Or, hurting myself?

Maybe both.

Fear of the truth. Of finally allowing myself to be freed of all the pain I kept locked in

A writer who’s caged by past regrets and unwilling to let them go because she believes she deserves all the pain she feels.

How messed up is that?

My heart knows I must write my story, but convincing whatever part of me that’s holding the words back has been a battle I’ve fought for years.

A battle I fear I will ultimately lose.

What about you? Are you struggling to free your words?

Back On the Bandwagon! #Writerslife

Finally, have a new computer! Actually, it’s a (HP) laptop. Since I’ve never owned one before it has been a bit of a challenge getting used to the smaller screen and the compact keyboard; but, I can type again (no more finger-tapping on a tablet)!

Another challenge I’m facing is that I don’t have Word installed. On my old desktop, I was still working with the 2003 version which came with the computer, free! Guess they don’t do that anymore which sucks, but oh well. Now, I’m trying to figure out what’s the best way to get one–any suggestions?

Overall, I’m just really grateful to have something other than a tablet to work with especially as a writer who likes to type fast.

How Confident Are You (As A Writer)?

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*Note: I’m participating in the #Write28Days (February) hosted by Anita Ojeda. Click here if you would like tp participate. 

 

So, really, how confident are you in yourself as a writer and in your writing abilities?

Personally, I can say without hesitation that I have very little confidence in myself as a writer, and many times this lack of confidence stops me from writing.

How sad is that?

What’s holding me back? What am I really afraid of?

Fear of failure? Of what others think about my stories and poems? Fear of success?

What???

The only answers that keep coming back to me are:

I need to write.  I need to tell my story-in my own way.  The price is too high NOT to write.

Again, what??? These tell me nothing about what I’m afraid of.

Then, another answer rings through my head:

My writing has to be perfect. If I can’t get it just right with the first try, why bother? I’ll never be good enough anyway.

Oh…yeah…this one cuts deep.  I keep going back to trying to be good at that one thing. It’s the search that never ends. It all goes back to my childhood when my (hearing) disability made me feel inferior to other normal kids (because they’d thought me strange because I spoke funny, or heard things incorrectly and they’d laugh at me, or called me “booby” when I acted clueless to what was going on around me, etc.). Or when I learned I was slowly losing my sight at the age of 21 just when I was beginning to get a feel of what I wanted for in a career, and this diagnosis shook my confidence, no, it destroyed it, and I gave up any and all aspirations.

On the other side, people who’ve known me for most if not all of my life would tell me how feisty I was when I was younger, how much harder I worked at something when the others believed I’d never be able to accomplish, and I’d do just that, how the guy who used to call me names found out one day he’d pushed me too far when I shove him against a wall with a hockey stick (he never bothered me again after that), and on and on.  My own mother said I was the strongest person she’d ever known, and how I was an inspiration to her.

Now, I look at the mirror and I can’t see that girl anymore.

Where did she go?

But, the real question is:

Will she ever return? Is it possible to become that girl again? 

I can’t help but  to feel so lost. How did I end up being this lost? But, is that necessarily a bad thing? A quote I read some time ago came back:

Sometimes the only way to ever find yourself is to get completely lost.” – Kellie Elmore

I feel there is truth to this quote. I also believe that the path to re-discovering myself will be through writing; and in writing, I believe I will regain my confidence.

 

 

Ever Had Days When…. #Write28Days #WritingCommunity

 

…you feel like a total reject?

This usually happens when we start comparing ourselves to other writers and authors.

And when we do this, ever notice how the doubts creep in, and suddenly all our writing just stop?

So my question to you is this: What do you do to combat this?

#Writerslife: Honor Your Reality

 

*If you’re interested in joining the DIY MFA Book Club to take part in the writing prompts, click here

 

I’m in the “honor your reality” period at the moment with my husband’s on government furlough.   Since I am a stay-at-home mom with a disability, I usually spend my mornings writing/blogging/reading; however, with hubby home since December 22nd 2018, my writing schedule has been erratic at best.  It’s been very difficult to set up any kind of routine or get into the “zone” with him underfoot (it’s like having another child in the house as he craves my constant attention) or he needs to be on the computer several hours each day monitoring the news for federal employees/juggling financial issues/etc. which take precedent over writing at any given time.

Now that we’re approaching 40 days into the government shutdown, stress is starting to mount in the household which adds additional distraction for me as I’m watching our small savings quickly dwindles.

*Sigh*

While I have been unable to continue working on the few manuscripts I began late last year, I’ve been utilizing the notebook and quick bursts of microfiction (posting them to my blog) to keep me from becoming completely frustrated with hubby and the current circumstances we’re in.

So, I’m taking a deep breath as I recognize the reality for what it is and accept it while knowing that this won’t last forever and that I will be back to my regular writing schedule (soon I hope!).