Hello my #STARlings!
Today is Day Four in the SYTYCW15 voting window, and I thought perhaps today I should share a little bit about myself and my writing journey with you.
We all have dreams.
Hopes and aspirations.
Sometimes, if we're incredibly lucky - or if we work really, really hard - we may be blessed enough to grab hold of it. Achieve it. Realize it.
Mine is almost within my grasp. So close I can graze that glowing, thrilling triumph with my finger tips.
When I first entered into Harlequin's SYTYCW contest, I told myself that I was going to be in this to win it. Everything I did, every move and decision I made, was with the understanding I would reach this point. And now that i have, I don't think I honestly really believed I would - deep down in the darkest, most intimate corners of my self-doubt. I was afraid, terrified, to want something so intensely.
Because, God I do.
So, what's my secret?
I used to be shy. Painfully shy. So shy I couldn't look people in the eye. So shy that I always walked around with head down, eyes glued to the pavement. I had the art of invisibility cornered. You wouldn't see me, or remember me, unless I wanted you to. The only place felt safe and secure was tucked away in one of my stories (either the ones I was writing, or the ones I was reading).
I remember zoning out in class because a character had just come to life inside my head. There in an instant. Taking shape and flesh. Sort of like watching a flower bloom, petal by petal. I would flip to the back of my binder or notebook, frantically taking down notes, or drafting full scenes I would later run to the library to pound out on the computer.
My days were consumed with writing - for no other reason then I simply had to write. I thought I would go insane if I didn't. I was rabid, back then. Pounding out a book (a very rough book) a month, at least, for years. Despite being in full-time school and maintaining a solid GPA (honour roll graduate here!), I dedicated at least six solid hours a day to writing.
Writing is the only thing I knew, deep down in my gut, that I wanted to to do. Could ever see myself doing - and being happy with it.
This went on for YEARS. And it took me a long time to break away from behind that computer screen, to even look someone in the eye let alone my own reflection in the mirror.Until one day I took a look at myself and realized I had a freakin' tan line on my face (darker brow with ashen pale cheeks) because I ALWAYS kept my damn head down. I was shocked. That glaring realization slapped me straight and I told myself this had to stop. I had to change.
That was the first day I forced myself to hold my head up. Everywhere I went, I had the chant, "keep your chin up". It was a struggle. Every day a hurdle I had to overcome.
Naturally because I was so shy, it stands to reason that I also had a crippling case of stage freight.
Recognizing my own weaknesses, I systematically chipped away at them, signing up for intensive drama, befriending the 'cool' kids and socializing to break out of my own awkward shell. Dating! When I hit twenty-four, I thought I had succeeded in leaving that awkward, invisible girl behind, but after having my daughter (dealing with the issues of a post-pregnancy body) I slowly felt her creeping back in around the edges, eroding that carefully acquired self-confidence I'd struggled for years to find.
So I did something a little crazy. I became a bikini fitness model [And there's the pic above to prove it! LOL]. I competed in three fitness shows in the span of a year where I had to strut on stage, exuding poise and confidence, wearing the tiniest blinded out bikini imaginable, standing next to a dozen fit, gorgeous girls (most of whom had been in the game for YEARS) and sell myself to the judges. To the audience.
It was a revelation. I had never learned so much about myself, about my own capabilities and potential until that intense, gruelling year. Lessons that I have taken to heart and now forge the core of who I am today. Lessons that have changed not only me as a person, but as a writer.
Now I know what you're thinking, what the hell does strutting around on stage in a two piece and heels have to do with writing?
Well, I'll tell you.
Making the decision to start something so...consuming (of time, energy...of YOU), is easy. Executing it, is another. You have to commit to the task in ways you've never had to before if you want to succeed. My life had to change and drastically, starting with my priorities. My routine became all about time management and discipline.
Every day I was working out.
Every. Single Day.
And not just for an hour, but two and sometimes three, broken into one hour segments divided into morning, afternoon and evening. All while holding a full time job and raising a family.
Impossible, you say? Well I made it possible. Even if it meant waking up at four am, sacrificing my lunch hour to run HIIT cardio drills on the terrace of my work building and dragging myself back to the gym within the last hour of closing after making dinner and tucking my daughter into bed for eight-thirty every night.
Adhering to a strict no dairy, no sugar and limited diet that for a long time mainly consisted of egg whites, chicken, tilapia, leafy greens and the occasional (and revered) tablespoon of natural peanut butter while everyone around me gorged on everything I couldn't have. Attending birthday parties where my friends indulged in red velvet and I popped open meal three of six of whatever I had prepared for that day.
Learning how to rise above the throng of people who turned against me because they disagreed with my choices, decisions and actions. Many thought I was a derelict parent because surely my daughter and husband must have been suffering neglect if I was putting in so much time in the gym. Or that I was an awful wife for choosing to lift weights instead of a mop and bucket.
Everyone and their grandmother had an opinion about my foray into fitness and some of it was hostile, cruel and malicious. Friends, even some family, turned against me. And always the ones you'd least expect.
I didn't let that stop me or derail me. I went on to compete in three separate shows in the span of seven months. And I walked off that final stage as a CBBF bikini competitor who qualified to move on to nationals (IFBB pro league) if I so wished. And I would have, if I hadn't soon thereafter become pregnant with my now one year old son.
All of that in less than one year. Despite all of my responsibilities at home, work, in life and fitness, I continued to write. And completed not only just one book, but began drafting several more.
Impossible?
I made it possible.
Writing is no different to fitness. You have to believe in yourself when no one else does, when all the nay-sayers who are miserable and unmotivated see you forging ahead with your goals on the horizon. They see you as a mirror against which all of their short-coming, failures and lack of vision is reflected upon, and suddenly their excuses as to 'why not' are suddenly rendered moot.
Because here you are, doing it. And they don't like that one bit.
You have to tune out all of that negativity and focus, even when your mind doesn't want to cooperate, even if your body is telling you that you're tired and you want to do a million other things but the one that is needed to bring you that single step closer to the finish line.
You have to make the time. Not find it. Make it.
By cutting out a half hour at your lunch. Or waking an hour earlier (before the family) and taking advantage of the calm and quiet. Recording that show you really want to watch and saving it for another day so you can squeeze in that hour before bed.
Treat your writing like an imperative, not a choice. Otherwise time will stretch on between every chapter, every line and word until you lose sight of what it was you'd set out to do in the first place.
And that story just waiting within you, yearning to be told, will fall silent.
So you see, impossible is only impossible if you choose to let it be.
I understand what it means to push your mind and your body beyond its limits, to dig deep and find that sliver of strength you didn't even know you had - to push even when you think you can't possibly give another inch.
I don't think I would be here right now, a Top 10 finalist, had I not faced the kind of struggles and hurdles I went through during that year of training and competing. But now here I am, and all that stands between me and carpe diem'ing the crap out my lifelong ambition is votes.
So, here I am, pouring my heart and soul out into the internet.
Now, I won't ask for blind votes - I don't believe in twisting arms or playing on guilt. All I ask is that you follow the link - and take a look. If you like what you see, then you know what to do. If my work doesn't speak to you: okay. Browse the other contestants and you might find someone's entry who does. No harm, no foul. Go where your heart takes you. Vote according to your own conscience, I won't hold it against you. :)
I'm grateful to be here, and I'll push like heck to the bitter end.
So if I've inspired you, motivated you, brought a little spark to your own soul to make you say, "Okay. I can do this," then that alone makes me happy.
So get out there Peeps - and fight for your dreams. Every. Single Day.
Because I believe in you.
www.soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com/out-of-focus/