My mind is still abuzz with the editing and book cover design for my soon-to-be-released YA paranormal (the book cover, by the way, is being created by Crystalyn Abercrombie, natural-born artist and expert inker, who should be known the world over - OMG, OMG, OMG – it is fabulous!!!), so for today’s post, I decided to clean out the mental closet – a nice break from the routine.
Following in the footsteps of my fellow bloggers, August McLaughlin, Amber West, Tim O’Brien, Natalie Hartford, and Tameri Etherton, each who have done posts similar to this, I thought it would be fun to do a little Q & A session with you all, at Tameri’s urging, to see if you knew how much of a Goody-Goody I was/am (or not).
Here’s how this works: I’ll list some things that I may or may not have done. Your challenge is to let me know in the comments section which items you think are true or false. In a couple of days, I’ll give you the answers.
This should be interesting. I wonder what impression you have of me, given the previous soul-revealing posts I’ve written.
So, let’s get started:
1. In high school, I was a forgery expert.
2. In the 1980s I made Tijuana runs and snuck bottles of Everclear grain alcohol back across the border.
3. I helped organize a relief effort for Hurricane Katrina survivors in 2005.
4. I snuck backstage at a UFO concert back in the 1980s.
5. In college I cut my hair within inches of my scalp as a dare from my sorority sisters.
6. I slept in the gutter outside of my college dorm after a particularly wild night.
7. While working in the Security Department in college, I was a model employee.
8. I stole a moped.
9. I used to make cookies and distribute them to residents in retirement homes.
10. My college roommates and I had were very thrifty and furnished our apartment with stolen furniture.
There you have it. How well do you think you know me? Educated guesses and stabs in the dark are totally allowed.
I promise to hold myself up to the light of truth, to acknowledge my worthiness, and to know that I am not somehow flawed, but a work in progress.
I promise to go easy on myself on days when my reserves are low and to make it okay to say no.
I promise to praise myself as much as I praise others.
I promise to be grateful for all that I have accomplished and know what I have not yet accomplished is on its way.
I promise to see the woman in the mirror and always find something to be grateful for.
I promise to love without restraint if only for the sole reason that I am capable of doing so.
I promise to trust my inner voice, for I truly do know the best decision to make – the one that works for me.
I promise to use my experiences to my advantage, to learn from them, not berate or minimize them.
I promise not to take myself too seriously, to laugh a bit more, to take a few more risks, and to do things because I want to, not because I should.
I promise not to settle for less than I deserve.
I promise to believe that I can and will accomplish what I intend.
I promise to fix my nail polish if it gets chipped. It might seem trivial, but it’s also the little things that make the big difference in how I feel about myself.
The End was penned a couple of months ago, but those two words only signaled the beginning. After 14 months of writing, the words that had been pouring out of my imagination had finally solidified into the 70,000+ manuscript that is now going through the fluff and fold and nip and tuck process.
For me, editing this YA Paranormal has been all-consuming, taking up enough space in my brain to push a few things out. As input from my betas keep coming in, my mind is continuously working out the possibilities and changes my novel could take. I’ve forgotten to pay bills on time, left the market with only half of what I’ve gone in for, and lost a lot of time from work because I’m running through scenes in my head instead of typing medical reports. I get through my days only half there and it’s a struggle to bring myself to the moment and focus on the task at hand.
I’ve got the attention span of blade of grass and if a point is not made within five seconds from the beginning of a conversation or whatever it is that I’m reading, you can be pretty sure I’ve checked out and moved on to something else. Oftentimes I wake up that way, breathing in the adrenaline of the home stretch.
With my tattoo artist now sketching out the cover of the novel – which, by the way, will be one of the next images of art to be inked on my body – the actual completion of my second novel is quickly becoming a reality…and I can’t wait!
So forgive me as I deviate from my usual blog path, because quite honestly, I can’t think of much else. You may not see me much in the blogosphere or in Twitterverse in the next few weeks, but I’ll be around – sort of.
Body art is not for everyone. Many people tsk-tsk the symbols and flashy colors on every conceivable area of the body, shaking their head in wonderment at those of us who adorn our body with varying levels of self expression. Perhaps it’s the perceived defacing of the clean slate of our skin that shocks them. Perhaps it’s the fear of committing to something as permanent as ink nestled underneath the top layer of the skin. Perhaps they feel it somehow diminishes a person’s worthiness. I don’t know, and I don’t think they do either. Whenever I ask the reason behind their reluctance to embrace the art of tattooing, the answer is usually “I just don’t like it.”
But every tattoo has a story. Wherever a person was in their life, they had chosen a symbol to reflect that particular moment. It was the missing piece of the puzzle that fit perfectly into their soul at that moment in time. Tangible documentation – something a person can point to, touch, and remember it by. And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who told me that they regretted their choice.
Jill, an incredible woman, very close to my heart, has allowed me to share the story of her tattoos with you:
A good friend of my oldest son, got his first tattoo when he turned 17 – a tradition amongst the males in his family. They’ve had the family crest inked onto their chest, reflecting the pride in their clan.
As for me, my first tattoo was about 11 years ago. I had always wanted to get a one because I recognized I was reaching a point in my life when I was feeling a little bit bolder, a little bit rebellious, but was yet unable to make a stand. An armband with the yin-yang symbol represented my emerging side, but the names of my sons and then-husband reminded me of the commitments I had made.
My second was about a year and a half ago, when I released my first novel, Again. I had integrated the triskele into my story, and since the entire writing process was such a huge part of my life, I wanted to honor my efforts by having the same symbol inked on my right shoulder.
My third was actually yesterday. The decision to get another tattoo came right out of the blue. I was doing the day job thing, wishing that I wasn’t, sneaking peeks at Twitter and blogs, writing and reading comments – basically getting all wrapped up in the writing experience – and I was happy. Really, really happy. Not that I’m not normally happy. I mean, I have two incredible boys and a steady paycheck. I live in a nice community with incredible friends and beautiful surroundings. So, yeah. I’m good. But immersing myself in the world of writers and other artsy-type people just puts me in my really happy place and resonates deep within. Like I was born to do this. By diving into this world of writers, by writing my novel, I am one of them.
I wanted to stamp that on my hand, across my forehead, to remind myself of who I am,and to put it out to the universe and anyone else who will listen (anyone, that is, not already within my own circle of supportive, awesome, incredible brothers and sisters of Twitterville, Facebookland, and Blogopia). Mostly, though, it was for me. It was something I needed to do. So I did it. Thank you Crystalyn!
I share with you now my journey of yesterday. Photos, courtesy of my writing partner, Kathleen Mulroy. Ink job courtesy of Crystalyn.
So stay tuned for my next story. I’m in the process of designing my next tattoo, a symbol that is coming right out from my next novel. I just need to figure out where I’m going to put it…
So, tell me…do you like body art? Do you have many friends who have at least one? Would you ever consider getting one yourself (if you don’t already have one). I’d love to know!