A Mother’s Lesson to a Writer

Posted by 4amWriter

My son’s tonsillectomy didn’t go exactly as planned. I was told it was an in and out procedure, we’d be home in a matter of hours, then a week of recovery. Bing. Bang. Boom.

Not quite.

Riley started vomiting once he woke up from his procedure. We stayed overnight because he had yet to drink/eat. The vomiting is bad for two reasons. One, it burns his throat, as you can imagine. Second, the force of the vomiting can split open his stitches and he could start hemorrhaging. That’s considered a medical emergency where they would cauterize the area. Every time he threw up, I braced myself for signs of blood.

The following morning, he continued to vomit. Then they discovered he had pneumonia. His temperature skyrocketed to 104 degrees. We stayed a second night as he still refused to eat or drink anything but ice water or ice chips. The poor little guy just stayed in bed, his face flushed, his eyes pale, quietly clutching his stuffed Mickey Mouse, watching cartoons.

Riley stopped vomiting about 26 hours after his procedure, and thankfully his stitches remained intact. But his fever hovered around 102. He still wasn’t eating, and we were forced to stay a third night.

There was a distinct moment where I was afraid I could lose him, and I panicked. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t stand up straight, my mind went berserk. I had to hide in the hospital bathroom so Riley wouldn’t see or hear me and get worried, too.

Then, a voice. Someone was there with me, my guardian angel or someone of that caliber. She reminded me that the universe doesn’t give us more than we can handle. In a matter of moments, I began to calm down. I knew then that Riley would pull through and he’d be coming home soon. I knew this because without a doubt I could not handle losing either of my children. I’d be done. Bottom line.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to get all melodramatic here but I wanted to talk about this because in the middle of one of those nights, I suddenly realized a truth in my life.

There’s a reason I haven’t given up writing. A reason I haven’t given up my goal of being traditionally published. It’s because the universe hasn’t given me more than I can handle. That’s not to say I relish the rejections or the constant self-doubt, but I know I haven’t reached my limit. That same voice that calmed me during the scare with Riley also helped me realize that although this writing game can feel horrendous, it’s not impossible.

Impossible would be waking up one morning and discovering I no longer have the passion to write. The kind of empty, lost feeling where nether worlds don’t exist anymore.

I have hit writing ruts, some lasting months or years. I have been rejected by literary agents and small presses. I have suffered from severe insecurity, where I don’t believe in myself. But on a better day I picked myself up and tried again. That shows me I haven’t hit my ultimate limit. No matter how awful it feels, it’s still bearable.

Riley came home after 3 1/2 days in the hospital. Even though he wasn’t eating much, he was keeping it down and his fever had decreased to under 100. The doctors felt he would recover better at home.

They were right.

Have you ever reached your ultimate limit with something important? What did you do?

Ice Cream, Anyone?

Posted by 4amWriter

Today, my 8-year-old son is having his tonsils and adenoids removed. Surgery these days is a bit different from when my mother had her tonsils removed. She was 2 years old, and the doctor came to her house and did the procedure on the kitchen table. She was allowed ice cream and tomato soup that very day.

Thankfully, we have a nice, sterile, kid-friendly hospital at our disposal. Ice cream is on the list, but not until tomorrow when his stomach is settled. Until then it’s popsicles and cool, clear liquids.

Anyway, I’ll be taking a hiatus from blogging for a week or two while I’m a mother…

…and a nurse

…and a waitress

…and an ice cream scooper

…and a storyteller

…and a chauffeur

…and a movie renter

…and a video game partner

…and a maid

…and a snuggler

Image courtesy of PeachyGreen

Comments are closed, but feel free to “Like” in lieu of get well wishes.

Writer…Uninterrupted, Part 4

Posted by 4amWriter

After I won NaNoWriMo this past November, I was excited to continue working on my new story. I worked on research and scenes for over a month when suddenly, I lost inspiration.

One afternoon as I was playing with my kids in the snow, my muse tapped me on the shoulder.

In a flash, a story filled my head, characters and problems and events ran through my mind like a movie trailer. I was stunned when I realized it was a story I had once wanted to write, one that had sparked while I was sitting at a bar, but that I’d never taken the chance to fully explore.

Two things happened simultaneously. One, I questioned the shift from my NaNo novel to this new book idea. Two, My muse and I were reenergized, inspired, and rushed by words.

What the heck was going on? Had I been struggling with the NaNo novel because it was the wrong book to write? At least, the wrong book to write at this time? Feeling the urge to write the new book idea then and there, I knew I’d found my way out of that writing darkness.

At first, I was irritated that I couldn’t jump on that story immediately. I was with my kids, in the snow, nowhere close to a writing tool. So, I had to sit with that story building away in my head.

But, looking back on that moment of inspiration, I’m thankful I was forced to wait to write. Something about letting the story marinate in my creative juices helped me to formulate a plot – a new experience for me, and one that made a difference.

As a traditional pantser, I have never before figured out the beginning, middle, and end before I started writing. The pull to get words written was always too strong, too intoxicating. I didn’t want to stop and plan when I could immerse myself in another world.

That’s how I wrote my first novel and all of my NaNo novels and my short stories. Pantsing always seemed to work. I mean, I got stories out of it, didn’t I?

The fact I couldn’t write this rediscovered story immediately is probably the only reason I started thinking about changing my writing ways. I mean, I could have started writing after we came in from the snow, or later that night, or heck, even at 4 the next morning. But I didn’t.

And that was the point I started redefining my writing self, even started this Writer…Uninterrupted series because in some ways, I became a new person, a new writer.

Before this life-changing event, I never knew that writers could get stuck because they might be working on the wrong story. This isn’t to say that I’ll never work on my NaNo novel again, but that I know now isn’t the right time for it.

As writers we need to pay attention to our muses, because they will revolt if they’re unhappy. We can’t force them, and while we can bribe them with IPAs or chocolate, the effects don’t last forever. The effort, the desire to write has to be genuine, rooted inside you. When we’re stuck, it’s important to step back and give ourselves space, time. If we trust ourselves, trust our creative centers, then we’re more likely to see where we’ve gone wrong.

How about you? Have you ever realized you were working on the wrong story?

Writer…Uninterrupted, Part 3

Posted by 4amWriter

Most of us writers have inner critics. That little voice inside you that tells you that you’re a terrible writer. That you have no business crafting a story.

My inner critic first visited me when I was in junior high school, and she has never left. I christened her ‘Eris’ after I took a mythology course; I thought it was appropriate.

Eris and I have chats. In the beginning, the chats were generally one-sided. By Eris. I didn’t have enough gumption to talk back, refute her messages, or even ignore her. She seemed to know me inside and out. Knew my history, all my weaknesses, my failures.

After I had kids, things started to flip a little in my favor. I think it was because as a mother I had to teach my kids how to be strong and self-confident and to be dream-pursuers. And to do that effectively, I had to be a role model.

Time to start talking back to Eris.

Initially, this was about as easy as deciding what to wear for New England weather. But I persisted, and eventually some concessions were made. By Eris. For a nice long while, we got along pretty well. I’d write. She’d harrumph or snicker. I turned my back on her, and she’d simmer down.

During my recent writing slump, one of the worst ones ever, I realized I hadn’t had a check-in with Eris on my terms. So, a few weeks ago when I became determined to get back on the writing saddle, I wrote Eris a letter.

Dear Eris,

I appreciate your reasons for hovering over me, judging my every move. But your constant lack of faith has turned me into a writing drop-out when things get tough. I know you step in to protect me from getting hurt, but I have to see my dream through. It’s definitely been an uphill battle for the last few years, but look at all the progress I have made and the lessons I have learned.

My point is that crushing my self-esteem is not stopping me. You might be slowing me down, but if I keep picking myself up then why bother?

Step aside, Eris, and let me do my job. I may be rejected. I may be insulted. I may be ridiculed. But the only way I will ever know if I can do this is to do this.

I wrote some other points, but the gist of the letter is above. I confronted Eris, and she backed off.

I really do think that our Inner Critics, whatever we want to call them, are our way of protecting ourselves from getting hurt. Think about it. If we already think we’re going to fail, then it won’t be that much of a disappointment if we do fail.

I saw the above image at My Random Muse, and I thought it was appropriate for this post, too. The Inner Critics compel us to play it safe. They keep us trapped in our comfort zones. We won’t try as hard if we think we’re going to fail. We won’t take that ultimate risk if we think we’re going to fail. We stop writing, or stop querying, or stop marketing. Magic can’t happen if we don’t stray from what we know. And if we play it safe, do we reach our desired goals?

Rather than fighting our ICs, because they’re going to be hell-on-wheels if they want, sometimes it’s easier to make a compromise. Understanding why your IC says the things it does will make it easier to put its messages into perspective. If you can compromise with your IC, you’ll find that balance between your comfort zone and making magic.

And you can go back to your writing uninterrupted.

Do you have an Inner Critic? How do you handle it?