Anymore Room in the World?

It is hard to say if this is just me, as I only know my own thoughts and sometimes they are very loud and may drown out someone else's, but I seem to have a lot of strange notions about the world and my place in it. About twelve years ago I began to see my first big dream possibly becoming a reality. (Don't let me bore you if you already know the story, just skip on down to the new part.) I wanted to move to Colorado. When I was growing up I wanted to go there so badly I could taste it. Almost every calendar I chose for myself was of scenes dipicting America's landscape and I would wear out the crease on the pictures of Colorado. I bought a coffee table book, when I was in college and had no coffee table to place it on, of America. The oversized heavy book would fall open to the Colorado pages. I knew in my heart I had to go there, but not just visit, I wanted my address to read, Any City in COLORADO.

I got a job in Atlanta with a computer company who had an office in Denver. My first day on the job, as a temp, I knew I had to become a permanent employee with this company so I could be transferred to Colorado. My permanent position was supposed to come four weeks after I started, but it turned into five months. I never doubted that I would have the permanent position in Atlanta and I continued to dream and make plans for my move, even though I could not imagine what job I would get, as I only knew how to be an admin. I couldn't imagine the admin there ever giving up her job. Then I began to doubt, seeing myself as small and insignificant compared to the big, busy world full of so many people, would there be room for me in Colorado? Would someone meet me at the state line and tell me NO VACANCIES? Maybe people would think I didn't belong there, this was their territory and I had no business, with as little experience I had in the world, to think I could just move there and set up camp by myself without any other reason to be there except I wanted to be there. I used to worry about that like it was a real possibilty. I know that sounds weird, but that was how I thought. I remember I freaked out before college graduation thinking when I walked up on that stage to receive my diploma, that the president would make me take a test and turn me away if I answered any question wrong. I didn't believe I knew enough to have earned that diploma. I didn't feel I knew enough to start a journey on my own in the world and I thought the world knew it. So five months after I began to work for that company in Atlanta, I found out the admin in the Colorado office was moving and I couldn't believe it my dream was coming true. I knew there had to be room for me. I'd just have to trust that there would be room for me. Seven months later on my thirtieth birthday I found my new apartment in Lakewood and I lived in Colorado for eight years and I learned my fear had been so silly.

For a couple of years now I have revisited that same silly fear, knowing full well this time, how silly it is, but never-the-less, here I have been eating meals with it and sleeping beside it at night. I believed the rejection letters I received and I did not make any further effort to send my manuscript out again. I felt I needed to make changes to conform it to today's most competitive markets. It sat in my room for four more years. Then this summer, I thought, why am I believing them? Did I not learn anything from moving to Colorado? In my silly mixed up notions, I had subconciously been waiting for a man to come into my life and we would get married and move to Colorado and live happily ever after. But waiting for something to happen on someone else's terms can be a long wait. If I wanted something to happen, I had to start it on my own. So this summer, I took a leap of faith and decided to self-publish my book.

The Dating Dilemmas of Delilah Dunnfield is the title of my book. Delilah is a woman who is looking for a man and finds herself instead. The cover design is in its second revision and I just received the manscript back two days ago with their revisions. The editor gave me a little review and said my book is "funny, touching, and inspiring." She gave me hope that there is room in this world for me and my books. I love my friends and family so much and appreciate their encouragement that got me this far, but sometimes it is the stranger who can break through a wall of doubt.

Blogging

Cover via Amazon

Hello again. I think I may be the worst blogger. I think I may benefit from reading Blogging for Dummies. I think I may be bad at this because well, of course one, I have not set aside time each day to write. The number one thing a writer should do is...write. There's a concept. But I think also, it may help to have an idea, or a centralized theme. I think I have exhausted my Edward theme. That wasn't planned by the way. That just happened. I am hearing a voice in my head telling me, "Don't let life happen to you. Make life happen for you." I'm creative, I should be able to think of something, right? I am good at projects. I am kind of lost without them- I just kind of wander around aimlessly. I am an artist, but I never sketch. I do projects. Paint a canvas, paint a stool, etc. I used to write in a journal every day, starting when I was thirteen. But then in my twenties, I got depressed and decided I didn't even want to relive what happened. I stopped journaling. I started writing a novel. A project. One that took me ten years to complete. If you ask me though, it is still not quite complete. It needs some revision. I hear a lot of authors had a "practice" novel. One that at the time they wrote it - they thought it was great. But then after they wrote a second one, it turns out their opinion changed. The first one was only practice. So I am moving on from that ten year project and am working on another one. I got the title in 2004. Does that mean this is another ten year project? I did not start writing it until last year. I have a long ways to go. But since I do not want to write my novel on my blog...I decided I will work my way through writing books. I have heard for years, if you want to be a writer, then you must read Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird. I purchased a copy of it years ago. Have I broken-in the spine yet? No.

Last year I turned 40 and decided to spend my fortieth year doing things I have never done before. Not really a 'bucket list', but if something comes up, I promise myself not to turn down an opportunity. I rode a Ferris wheel the first time ever in my 39th year, but I think that was the only thing I could claim as a first. This year, I ate a raw oyster. (It also helped that I was rewarded $20 for doing it.) I took a boot camp class and lost 10 pounds. Goodness, I know there was more to it than eating an oyster and sweating myself into my first bladder infection. When I think of the others I will let you know. Anyway...my point is that I will read Anne Lamott's book and then I will read another writing book, etc.

I went to a concert! I saw The GooGoo Dolls last fall. My first real in this day and age concert. I don't count going to see "Earth, Wind, and Fire" in 2000 a real concert because they are an oldies band.

I will try to be here at least once a week blogging about my thoughts on writing and the books I am reading. Maybe you'll be here too?

Good night.

Vampire Diaries Theme Night

I missed the whole first season of "The Vampire Diaries" last year, because I didn't get the channel.  However, my friend who lived across the river watched it and always talked about it. She invited me over for the premiere, as I now live across the river too.  When we saw the theme for the next week, Carnival, we decided to do a theme night every Thursday.  I'll change her name to protect the innocent, now I can't think of a name, hold on, I'll call and ask her what it should be... okay! Bambi made pizza and I brought cotton candy and hellium balloons for the four of us. (Her two teenagers daughters carve out every Thursday to spend with me and their mom.) The next week was when the wolves were introduced, so I bought buttons that said things like "Wolf Girl." My memory is fading and I can't remember what Bambi made for dinner, but she gave each of us Vampire Blood hand sanitizer. The next week was doubles, so we had double decker sandwiches and I brought 4 headbands, two had devil horns and two had cat ears and we each wore one. The next week was the past, Bambi made up stories giving each of us a past life and we read them aloud at the dinner table.  The next week was a repeat, I believe that was the night we had breakfast- as in a repeat of the past meal. So good! I brought maple syrup for Bambi's pancakes. We watched a movie instead of the show.  Last week we decided the theme would be moonstone. None of us could think of anything to bring, (unless we bought expensive moonstone rings) so I looked online and found a restaurant in California called Moonstone and they served Moonstone Clam Chowder.  So I made clam chowder, except Bambi and her girls were driving in from a vacation and got stuck in traffic. A neighbor let me in the house and I started dinner. I watched the first twenty minutes of the show alone, except for their dog Coco, who loves to jump on me.  Finally they arrived. We ate Moonpies for dessert. 

I know this is a lame ending, but I need to get ready for the Masquerade Ball tonight and I have nothing to wear! (Vampire Diary theme tonight.)

Edward's Return

Last Thursday I was invited to a Chamber of Commerce Mixer on the roof of our parking garage. The hotel next door was providing the hors d'oeuvres.  I did not have long to spend as I was on my way to a friend's house for another Vampire Diary night. (I'm really not into vampires.) I arrived on the rooftop at 5:20pm because I had to work late.  I found the person who extended the invitation to me (none other than my friend The Mayor of East Ridge) and he insisted I go help myself to some snacks. I came to an abrupt halt when I saw "Edward" standing before me. He was wearing madras shorts with brown Nikes, tennis socks and a blue short sleeved button down shirt- untucked and wrinkled. He topped it off with Ray-Bans. I followed along behind him and watched him load his little 6" paper plate up with cheese cubes and little sandwiches. I waited for him to leave the sandwich plate, he was talking to the hostess. He looked up at me startled I was there (though not because he recognized me as his almost stalker) and said, "Oh, I'm sorry," and smiled. I smiled back and said, "That's okay." I wanted to ask where he was working now, but as that is the type of question a stalker would ask, I refrained. And now I feel I have been exonerated from appearing like a stalker. I'm free!!! I smiled all the way home.  As also, I snickered a little too at the memory of 'Edward' in shorts. He looked more like a cross between Edward and Macaulay Culkin.

Doubt is a Dirty Word

I didn't write any of my story last weekend. I didn't write all week. I looked at a couple of my research books, but only to see when they were due back at the library. (This Saturday.)  I was given a chance at some real help from a woman who writes and edits books out in California. So grateful and extremely excited, I busted out plots, a summary and a tag line. When I got to the part of the outline that required me to write what happens in each chapter, I wrote a tiny sketch of the first four, not even sure those would be the first four chapters.  Then I froze up and now here I am. I gave myself ten days to get this done. If I want to be finished with my book before next spring, I need to get on it right? But I am in doubt that I am any good at this.  I doubt that my characters will be strong. I doubt the plot. The funny thing about doubt is that you can't just (well, I can't anyway) doubt one thing, eventually it all breaks down and you end up even doubting your existance.

Ever since I could put sentences together I have been writing stories or volumes of journals, an endless sea of letters to friends and family.  I have enough practice under my belt.  I know what I like to read. I know the difference between good and bad writing. Why would I write badly if I know the difference? I won a writing contest that involved publishers and screenwriters judging the stories. I know deep in my soul, I'm onto something here. My success seems to always stop at second best. Why am I afraid to try for first place? What could happen that would be so bad? Why am I afraid to write on this blog every day? Afraid you can't relate? You'll be bored? You wouldn't be coming back, I think, if I bored you by now. My love for writing is just an example of anyone's dream. I could be writing about becoming a chef. It's all the same. Insert your dream here.

Yesterday I went a-wandering. (as the song goes) and I found myself at the discount bookstore. I wandered over to the writers help section. One book caught my eye. The Fire in Fiction. It was only after my interest in the book that I noticed the author's name. Donald Maass. I knew it was a sign my wandering wasn't just an accident. Do you know that one of the prizes at that writing contest (back in Colorado in 2005) was to have Donald Maass take a look at your book and provide you with helpful feedback? He has a literary agency in New York. I didn't win his prize, but I'll never forget his name. It was like he was the prize to strive for; his was the top prize of the evening. So I began reading some of the book last night. I skipped around and found the reason why I was lead to that wonderful book.

The story I am working on now is so close to my heart. I have been hiding it in there for years. Doubting I could justify my feelings or portray them accurately. Doubting anyone would believe it or care. Then I read this paragraph from Mr. Maass' book: 

Think about it. Hackneyed plots and stereotypical characters don't work. We brush them off. Stories that stretch our minds and charaters who challenge our view of ourselves...ah, those are the ones we remember. They are the stuff of which classics are made. So start by making sure that you put yourself into your novel: your views, your hurts, your questions, your convictions, your crazy-weird take on it all. Give all that to your characters or simply give it to yourself when you write. You've kept it inside for too long. It is time to let it out and to let it make a noise.

What is the truth that you most wish the rest of us would see? That is the purpose of your novel. That is your message. I wish more manuscripts had them. A great many do not.

Having something to say or something you wish us to experience, is what gives your novel its power. Identify it. Make it loud. Do not be afraid of what's burning in your heart. When it comes through on the page, you will be a true storyteller.

When I read that, I wanted to leap for joy. I am those thoughts. I am that writer. I just have never written that story on paper. But that is what I am doing now. I can do this. I know I can because it is me. I never tried before, because I was never good at making a loud noise in front of others. If backed into a corner I'm sure I made noise, but I don't remember ever volunteering a real glimpse into my heart and soul. Maybe bits and pieces, but nothing loud enough that anyone would take notice. I keep saying over and over. I want to be noticed. I want to be someone in the world. I want to leave my mark upon it; something that says Victoria Thurman did exist here. Now is my time.

I will come back to these words when I doubt myself. This is not an untangible goal, writing a good story, because it is already inside of me. I need to just feel that freedom to let it go.

A Project Larger Than Life & Edward

Forget that fake Edward at the hotel next door to my work.  The REAL Edward stayed at the Read House in downtown Chattanooga, TN over the weekend, 4 blocks down from my work.  Of course I went to visit the set of "Water for Elephants." 

I want to know what's like a real movie set. I had happened to have the day off, so on July 30th and drove down to the location site of the house where they would be filming. I parked way back from the property but there were cars all the way up to the gate. There were quite a few people, but at the most fifty. Well, we waited. The security guard told us Rob was on his way and would be there soon.
I ran back to my car to get something and met three girls. They called out to me and asked if Rob had been by yet. I said as I walked back from my car, "No." Then they said, "Yes, he did. We were right behind him." I stopped and said, "What?" I was whispering. They didn't want anyone else to know. So they told me the whole deal. I said, "I'm gonna hang with y'all." :) So this is what they did. They followed his car all the way to the location. They drove straight past all of us, past the house to a site that was well lit across from the catering area.
So by this time we were back at the gate with all the people who were still waiting, but we walked down toward the catering tent. Then security came and told all of us we had to get in our cars and leave right now. Here came the black SUV. This time I knew Rob was in it. And, I didn't smile. I was deflated by then and it didn't occur to me that he could see me even if I couldn't see him.

Their car turned in the gate to the house and when we walked by a movie lady was trying to get us to leave. She said, "He appreciates you being here, but he has to work."

Then someone said they were filming the scene at sunrise, so they needed to get started. I thought holy cow, I don't want to ruin the movie. Sunrise doesn't last that long. I hope they got the shot. Also, by 6:50am on my way home- I saw the sun. It was round and orange, red, pink and brillant- it was an amazing sun. I really hope they captured it. They shot another scene on the railroad tracks at the TN Valley Railroad Museum. 

Even though I feel disappointed that I did not go back to watch filming.  I hope Rob has a good time in Chattanooga. The newspaper this morning reported that he loves it here in Chattanooga and thinks its awesome.

I went to find the train instead of going back to the house on Friday and got a picture.  I am going to frame it and hang it above my writing area to remind me of the power of the pen (or keyboard).  One woman wrote that story and out of her story became this movie that affected and involved so many people's lives.  It was a project larger than herself and that is what I would like to be a part of someday. 

I wrote three more pages yesterday and began some research for my latest project.  It all begins with one woman and a story.

Fixing To Write

I'm fixing to play mice with Bell so he can run off some energy and know I'm not neglecting him.  I'm fixing to then close him out of my brand new writing room.  I'm fixing to write a blog for the first time in months.  I'm fixing to ... well...I don't know.  Maybe it's too soon to start writing a blog.  Do I even have anything worth saying?

I set up a new design on my blog to give my new entries a bit a flair.  So when I start writing blogs (hopefully) this week, it will be fun to visit my site. 

I am fixing to log off and write a novel.  A short story.  A letter?  Maybe...after I answer the phone.

Thank you for coming to visit me.  I promise not to be boring the nexrt time you chose my site. :)