That voice in my head

It travels with me wherever I go; it is me, or at least it likes to think it is.  That voice in my head that is both me and a Judge/Jury/Critic of everything I do, or don’t do the way The Voice believes I should.  “You’re being lazy … think of all that you have to do.  The closets are a mess, there’s laundry to be done, you haven’t cleaned out your email inbox, and there you sit, sunk into the cushion of the lounge chair with a book in your hand, with all that you have to do going undone.  And can’t even write a measly 15 minutes a day.  Well, what good is it to aim for writing every day, anyway, given how poorly you write.  Is there anything you are good at?  Being lazy, it looks like to me.”

 Yes, that Voice.  Its incessant words are the background music to my life, stirring up a mix of anxiety always simmering, just waiting for the wrong word or red light or stressors to turn up the heat to boil.  I’m working on changing the words, turning down the volume, soothing its soul with compassion.  There’s enough anxiety waiting for me, I don’t need to create it for myself!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/09/source-of-anxiety/

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15 Minutes

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What can I do or say in 15 minutes that will interest you?  That will make my life memorable?  That will change the world?  Fifteen minutes is such a fleeting, easily wasted span of time.  I could … and too often do … flitter it away losing five Solitare games before I finally get the black and red cards in the right order and win.  Or checking my twitter account even when there’s no news breaking.  But 15 minutes — even less — is also all it takes to go from living a full, robust, influential life to death (Paul Walker’s five-minute spin around the block last week) or a woman to go from the pain of pushing to the joy of holding her warm, beautiful baby in her arms.  Fifteen minutes is the seemingly tiny amount of time I tell myself I can and should and WILL write each day.  Only I don’t.  

Use your 15 minutes wisely.  Be grateful for the minutes you’ve been granted.  And show compassion to yourself when you don’t accomplish all you had hoped to achieve.  Love yourself, fully and completely, and then love others in that very same way.  

Do one thing each day, even a small barely noticeable act, to make the world or the people in it just a little bit better.  Smile at the cashier, leave a 30% tip, hold the door for the slow-poke behind you, let the car that screwed up get in line in front of you, be patient with the annoying kid at the next table who isn’t letting you eat in peace, take a deep, full breath and appreciate life.  

Thank you for listening!


A Touch Goodbye

It was time to leave the only home I could remember.  Mom was yelling from the garage to “Come on, or we’re leaving without you!” as she hauled one last thing out to the pickup truck.  I stood in the middle of the room that had listened to my hopes, sheltered me from my nightmares, looked down on me as I grew from the four-year-old who got the room when her baby brother came along to the spindly-legged, frizzy-haired 12-year-old who realized her connection to this room only when she was told she had to leave it.  Just saying “goodbye, I’ll miss you” wasn’t enough.  Even if it meant I got in trouble for making us late, I had to take the time to press my palm against each wall of that room, creating a connection that only touch can provide.  Sharing my warmth with the drywall and white paint and 2’x4’s that created the space in which I’d grown up.  It’s that touch I remember even today, 42 years later.  It was touch that sealed it in my memory and made one moment last.



Editor or Writer?

My thoughts as well … sometimes my urge to create gets tired of being shunted aside and demands to be heard. Funny how it’s so easy to decide other things must be done leaving us so little time to do what our heart wants

The Writing Itch

I’m torn these days. I desperately want to get back to my writing, but I must edit for a living. As an editor, I work with writers to help them fashion the best story or book possible. I read their work and see the magic, and the weaknesses. This is how I make ends meet. Born without a silver spoon, I must earn my living.

But as I work, I wonder. What is my writing like these days? Do I write as powerfully and succinctly as I suggest others write? Am I still capable of telling a compelling story? Do I have a voice that will seduce?

My creative juices are banked to overflowing. How I’d love to have the chance to stop my editing and my writing coaching and concentrate on my own writing. I delight in my job, but I’d love the chance to put earning aside and…

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