What to Expect When You're Expecting to Be Published

Yeeaah. I don't know what other soon-to-be-published authors feel with mere weeks to go before their first book is published, but, right now...

Ohhhh myyyy Godddddd! My first book is coming out soon and people, like, real people, are gonna read it!! What if they do read it??!! Uggghhh! What is that rumbling in the pit of my belly??!! Wait. What if...oh no! What if nobody wants to read it??!! What if people don't read it?! Or, what if they read it and they think it's crap??!!

What is that rumble?

Ah, yes. The fluttering of so many butterflies. And I'm constantly whipping them into V-formation.

Neither my image - nor my butterflies.

Seriously, it cannot be that others are as cool as a cucumber in times like this. No way. There must be a heavy dose of adrenaline coursing through the veins on any given day - and twice on Sunday.

Now and then I think, "I did it. I really did it." It may be crap, but it's my crap. (Umm, that didn't come out the way I had it in mind.) Point is, we are constantly bombarded by life-affirming and ability-affirming quotes and memes and books and speakers and influencers and and and... We hear and read so much about moving forward against the odds; facing your fears; winning; taking a leap; go for it, etc., etc. Inevitably, though, after we reach our goal, or, if after much effort we fall short, as night follows day, some will find something to pick at. It comes with the territory.

This is not to say that as creators, and humans doing, we should not be open to getting frank feedback about our work. Very few get it right the first time around. So, we "tek telling" as the Jamaican expression goes, and work toward better. It is to say, rather, that the naysayers we have always with us. "It's what it's" - as a funny tweep wrote the other day. Lol!

Fear. The fear of not getting it right. The fear of people laughing at what we've created. The fear of what people will say. Fear in some shape or form is what keeps us from starting, doing, finishing. Know what? Do your dream because: (1) It is yours to do. No one else in the world can do your dream like you. (2) Some people will always have negative things to say. It's like it's in their DNA. Plus, they don't matter. (3) You will feel good, real good, after beating the fear and doing what you set out to do! I promise.

This book is rather personal - and telling. As one reviewer had said, by the end, readers will feel like they know me. Still not sure whether I'm ready for that reality. But, it is written.

They will know this book is about life and love and heartbreaks and that...that I dared to get back up. Every. Single. Time. And hope. They will know that, although it often feels like Love has kicked the crap out of me, I'm still here. (I feel a voice-over coming on: We the unbeatable, do the "impossible", and remain hopeful "in the face of aridity and disenchantment.") I've made the choice to embrace the good and be inspired by the joy of those close and not so close; to hope that, come what may, I will always choose to live fully in each moment.

Hope.

I hope in God to lift me and set me up upon a rock; to make my feet like hinds' feet; to make me mount up with wings as eagles; to restore to me the years the locusts have eaten... Hope is a good thing. Where I place it is even more important. Many don't mix their creative work with worship. I do. I am, after all, blessed and highly flavoured. Chocolat. To God be all the glory for His favour and His hand upon me and this writing journey and this new book. And the new website. (It's getting there.) His thoughts and actions toward me are terrible, awesome, wondrous, and beautiful. He is about to blow my expectations of success - millions of copies sold worldwide; published in several languages - and my dreams of positively touching lives, out of the water! #ExceedingAbundantly. He loves me, and if I knew nothing else, that would be enough. But, I also know this: He is holding my heart. 

Funny, at this point in the post, I don't feel as anxious as when I'd started. :-)

Here's the thing: If I'm not gonna dream big, then what, pray tell, is the point of dreaming at all? I dream big (and in colour) to the point where it sounds ridiculous - and scary! And, I put in the work, too, and continue to do so. I'm not just referring to the decades of putting pen or pencil to paper. I'm talking about the more recent writing, and editing, and working with the publisher who said they'd like to work with me. I'm talking about finding... no, making time to write. I have a full-time job which, occasionally, has me travelling. I've whipped out my phone and got to writing during my morning and evening commute on the GO Train; at lunch; at work (shhh); on vacation; on the plane en route to my vacation destination; on staycation; at the park by the Lake; in the bathroom (don't ask); in bed... I have even been awoken by a vivid thought and scribbled notes while half asleep, and, come morning, tried to decipher what the heck I had written on the post-it pad.  But still I write. #writeorsuffocate

I learned to reach out for help. I even know what it feels like to woman up and ask a complete stranger for their take on an excerpt. Why? I try to keep my focus on that which cannot be seen by the naked eye. I keep telling myself, it's going to be beautiful. And, I want to leave behind something bigger than myself; something relatable; something new.

One of the reasons I'd wanted to publish this anthology at this time, is that I wanted to...make room, if you will, for the new phase of love in my life. And, the new phase of me, too - ready to be loved thickly in return. Pretty brave of me to come right out and say that, but, given that this book is a go, well, I must get used to the idea of allowing those words to leave my lips. Plus, as I've learned, love alone is not enough. Deciding to be with someone for the rest of your life takes, among other things, courage.

Another reason is: I wanted for my mom to behold this completed work. She has been one of my main cheerleaders, and it would give me joy and pleasure to see her reading my book. Tee hee. And, just so you know, all my birth family and close friends have been supportive. They rock! Muahh!

Yet another reason: For one, or two, or three people - a girl can hope - who will be able to say, "I can relate." Yeah. Relatabilty.

Today marks the 7th anniversary of my blog. I've said it in this space a few times before, Usain Bolt's performance on the track at the Beijing 2008 Olympics helped to light a fire within. On Sunday, August 23, he sprinted to victory in the 100m at the World Championships - again in Beijing. He wasn't in top form, physically, and there'd been much talk of a Bolt/Gatlin face-off. At the finish, he came through in 9.79s to his main rival's 9.80s. Someone made the point on Twitter that he is mentally strong. I agree. One needs to be able to silence the demons and the negative voices in one's head; rise above the fray, and persist to succeed. I smiled in agreement and admiration as Bolt articulated this bit in a recent Puma ad: "...when he says, "On your mark," and I take a deep breath, look down the lane and...it's time to go." Love that. Live that.

In the end, I did it for me. It was time to share this part of myself. As I've said in the intro to my book, I do not have a story. I am a story. I have a voice.

Fourteen to Fortyish: The Formative Years speaks volumes. I truly hope that you will give a listen.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Mandela's Death is All About Me. And You. And Him.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela died last week Thursday, the fifth of December. Mr. Mandela was the main icon of the anti-apartheid revolution and one of the greatest fighters for freedom in modern times. Much has been written about his life and, upon his death, his legacy and impact and inspiration. It is a universally accepted truth that, indeed, the world has lost one of the greatest human beings ever.

It's All About Me
I held Mr. Mandela in high esteem. I recall the moment in Jamaica when friends and I heard he was released from prison in February, 1990. The clanging of pot covers, shouts of joy from hither and yon, and music filled the air - for a long time. At the time, I could not yet wrap my head around the enormity of the significance that his stand, his imprisonment and, then, his release, meant. After all, many of the historic moments were yet to follow. Still, I knew in my own heart I admired this man who stood for something, for so long, against so many strong and unrelenting odds. To overcome all of that, to the point of presidency of South Africa; to the point of continuing to work on behalf of others (even when he had done far more than enough by then), and to the point of inspiring countless lives, all that was a demonstration of an enviable measure of strength, resilience, persistence, humility, graciousness, forgiveness and kindness that few possess. And that is what moved me about his life: He was put through the furnace of affliction and he came out as pure gold.

I honestly don't wish to regurgitate everything we've seen in newspapers from around the globe and in books and so on. (The Toronto Star carried a timeline.) Information is now at our fingertips. What is not at our fingertips; what may not be touched on screen, is the impact and inspiration he was, just by doing what he did with his life. For me, he made the world a better place. He certainly left it better than the way he found it. And, I am so very thankful that our lifetimes intersected. True, I was saddened on hearing the news, but, after quick acceptance, gratitude took over.

It's All About You
There can be, and will ever be, only one Nelson Mandela. You are not him. I imagine that's the balancing act some people, now faced with the breadth and depth of the life of Mr. Mandela, have suddenly found themselves trying to manage. Of course, Mr. Mandela was around for a long time. For some people, the length of time he'd spent in prison was equal to or greater than how long they'd been alive. Since his passing, however, and the fact that news outlets everywhere have been at pains constantly to feed us with all things Mandela, it may be hard for some not to feel overwhelmed, under-valued and unfulfilled. All of a sudden, those folks are thinking that their not-perfect-but-ok life has taken a turn for the inadequate. I'd have one thing to say to them: Stop it. Ok, more than one thing. Remember that bit I'd written a few months ago, encouraging us to arise and shine? Funny, the excerpt by Marianne Williamson is usually attributed to, you guessed it, Nelson Mandela. I saw a tweet with the misappropriated attribution just yesterday. The truth of it still holds, however. And, how fitting that the same sentiment is used to reinforce the point I'm making:

From her book, A Return to Love, this is Marianne’s piece, the excerpt popularly known as: Our Deepest Fear.  (And, no, I don’t know her like that, but I don’t think she’d mind.)

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Hey, you are who you are. And, you are neither called, nor expected, to be anyone else. Shall I start quoting Dr. Seuss up in here?

Today you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is you-er than you. ~ Dr. Seuss

In the light of Mr. Mandela's life and death and legacy, it would be remiss of you to miss the point of his life. I'm positive that there are many lessons to learn from him. I found this AP report of athletes paying tribute to him particularly heartwarming. But, I believe the essence of his life was this: Do for others. That was it. Do for others. It may be looked at and dissected to reveal: Do something. Stand for something. Help others. Forgive. Be kind. And, so on and so forth. I believe that if we start feeling small in his light, we dishonour his memory and prove ourselves to be bad students. Let it not come true in our own lives - that we learn from history we do not learn from history. (So it has to repeat itself, is the idea.) Let's take the torch and continue the work. It will be alright, in the end. And, as that saying goes, since everything is not yet alright, I can assure you, it is not yet the end.

It's All About Mr. Mandela
After all - and we're not in any way deifying the man - he was one of the great ones. We cannot deny that there was something about him and in him; something that coursed through his veins and heart that made him continue the fight. He deserves the kudos and the accolades and the honours and the esteem and the pedestal and and and. Yes, he had support. But, he, himself, had to - and did - make the choice not to give up. And, after coming forth as pure gold, how magnanimous he was toward his former oppressors; how he lived the exemplary life of forgiveness and kindness. I like that quote from the AP article: "If I hate, I would not be a free man anymore." So thankful for his life and what he did with it.

Remember, remember, the fifth of December. What a life on which the sun set that day.

Walk good, Mr. Mandela.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"Leap and Annette will appear!"

I've mentioned in this space, more than a few times, that I love Monk.  Yes, the television series that came to an end...was it last year?  I watch the DVDs all the time so, for me, it's still on.  Gonna have to Google it.  (Has anyone ever said, I'm gonna "Bing it"?  Anyone?)  The year when it last aired is all a blur - pretty much like the final scenes on the tele as I watched through tears.  Yep.  I cried when Monk ended.  Bawled.  Ok.  Cried and sobbed.  I was heart-broken that there would be no more new experiences to go through with him, his quirks, his persnicketiness and his sheer brilliance.  The creator (Andy Breckman) and writers were gooood.  Tony Shalhoub was impeccably stellar as he headed a great cast.  I was a tad miffed when Bitty Schram was replaced...wait.  Where am I going with this?  This is not even about Monk!  I really want to get to one line - ONE - from one of the episodes. One.  But, it's kinda like that when I start talking about Monk.  Ahhhhhh.

Anywaaaaay, in one of the episodes, "Mr. Monk, Private Eye", Monk's assistant, Natalie, forces him and opens up a Private Investigation office.  Monk is not amused. He doesn't think they will do well.  Natalie encourages him, telling him that her "Grandpa Neville used to say, "Leap, and a net will appear!""  Monk asks, "Who's Annette?"  Later on, she has reason to ask him whether he can swim.  He tells her, "I took a correspondence course.  They sent me a certificate."   Well, toward the end of the episode, as he tries to escape "the guy" by jumping overboard from a speeding boat, he consults the wallet-sized card with swimming tips, and repeats the mantra, before chucking off into the blue.

Leap and a net will appear. 

I realize that there is a little similarity in tone between this post and the ending of my previous post.  But, I really wanted to expound on this idea here.  The month of August - in by-gone years so unrecognized, so under-the-radar - has become a special one for me.  It marks the anniversary of the start of this blog.  I was inspired by my mom - I needed quite a bit of encouragement that year.  To a large extent, I was also inspired by Usain Bolt and his sizzling 9.69s run to win the Men's 100M in the Olympics in Beijing in 2008.  It was a shot-in-the-arm to poop or get off the pot.  For a while, I was scared to death about writing for public viewing/criticism.  But, the fear of NOT writing; the horror and suffocation I felt in not having an outlet to publish, beat the crap out of the fear of criticism or ridicule.  It was write or suffocate.  So, even though I had not yet - and, up to this point, still have not - published a book (one of my dreams), I took the leap and began publishing in cyberspace.  I set up a personal schedule of posting three times per month: the 8th, the 18th and the 28th.  I keep to it, even if it means hitting "publish" at 11:58PM, because, well, I simply must.  "Serious writers write, inspired or not.  Over time they discover that routine is a better friend to them than inspiration." (Keyes)

The net appeared.

Whaddya know?  I didn't die.  I didn't sink.  I didn't fail.  Instead, I was caught up in the bouyancy of sheer pleasure and delight; the kind brought on by making a creative adventure of that which you know is yours to do.

I'm big on being inspired (even if, for the writing, routine is regarded as a better friend).  For, inspiration is not just applicable to writing or other creative work.  It's applicable to life; how we live. And, I firmly believe that sometimes, you just need to be inspired to get up and do what is yours to do!  I'm occasionally reminded of a few lines from "8 Mile" starring Eminem (you heard me): "So here I go it's my shot/ Feet fail me not/ This may be the only opportunity that I got."  Then, "You better lose yourself in the music, the moment/ You own it, you better never let it go/ You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow/ This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo."   (No, I didn't "Bing it".)

The athletes are at it again in the XXX Olympiad in London.  This time around, Usain Bolt delivered a "scorching" 9.63s in the Men's 100M (as one paper reported it), setting a new OR.  Olympic Games newcomer, Yohan Blake, did Jamaica proud in 9.75s.  Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce won the Women's100M in 10.75s.  Asafa Powell - the man who started this round of Jamaica's track domination - and Veronica Campbell-Brown made their presence felt, too.  Indeed, most times, you only get one shot!

 Now, guess we just need to figure out the other part of the duo.  We've heard of "Annette".  But, as my sis asked the other day when I used the same encouragement on her, "Who is "Leap", again?"  LOL!



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"Go, Kiki! Go!"

My siblings, my niece, and I, had just got to the car in the underground parking garage. A couple of us went to one side of the car, and the others waited on the other side for the familiar “chirp! chirp!” disarming sound. Once I disarmed the alarm, I held my niece’s hand and led her to the back door. I opened the door for her and was about to lift her up and secure her in the car seat when she said, “No. I want to do it by myself!” She had recently celebrated…make that, we had recently celebrated her second birthday, and she was all Miss-Independent-up-in-here.

While my sis and I waited, she leaned her torso against the floor of the car, by the edge.  (What's that part called, anyway?  I could Google it, but, where's the fun in that?)  She placed her left elbow, then forearm, on the floor of the car as far in as she could reach, then paused for a second as if contemplating her next move. She then held on to the seat with her right hand and raised her right knee – her left leg was still sticking out –  as she tried with all her might to climb in.   My 2-yo niece then made a little grunt "mmh!" and followed that up with: “Go, Kiki! Go! Go, Kiki! Go!” This moment of self-motivation and inspiration came as such a surprise, it knocked us over! We got in quite a bit of laughter before we went to the poignant message within. Of course, she made it! She accomplished the feat, on her own, and, cheered herself on – to boot!

After we secured her in her car seat, we had to talk about the big lesson we had just witnessed from that little girl. And, every time I remember it, it motivates me – sometimes a lot, sometimes just enough.

I could wax on about how sometimes we need to cheer our own selves on; how at times it might feel as if there’s no one else in our corner and so we just need to chant our self-cheer out loud to hear it in our own voice; how a bit of self-cheer would likely motivate us to finish what we’ve started, especially when we allow ourselves to venture into “what’s the point?” territory.  I could, but, there’s no need, is there?

Now, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. And, I seriously doubt whether you’ll want to knock it after trying it. If you don’t already have one, give yourself a nice two-syllable affectionate name. (You could work in a three-syllable one if you fill in the half-beat. Yes, I’m serious.) Voilà!!! Next time you need a picker-upper, start your chant already:

“Go [your name]! Go! Go [your name]! Go!”



Claudia
http://www.cyopro.com/
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Of best days and inspiration

Got up this morning believing that today was going to be one of the best days of my life!

And it was!

Did anything spectacular happen? Well, that depends on how you (say it with me) define spectacular. Actually, a few wonderful miracles came my way. And, I guess, sometimes you ought to just stop and count them there blessings.

- I got a very cheap fare to visit with family in October, GW. It's a surprise for my sis and her family (in celebration of my niece's first birthday)! My other siblings know about it - and I'll mention it to our parents later on. In the meantime, just hoping I say or do nothing to give it away in all my anticipation. Tee hee.

- Shone at an interview tonight for a volunteer position for which I applied last week. It's for a Board Director position with a community organization. Here's hoping I get the position.

- I heard from "Cupid" and believe that he conveyed my number. I'm expecting a call :)

- A year to the date on Sunday, and then yesterday, Usain Bolt and Shelly-Ann Fraser gave inspiring performances at the 12th IAAF World Championships in Athletics in Berlin, Germany. Bolt with his scintillating 9.58 in the 100M men's and Fraser with her glorious 10.73 in the women's 100M.

Inspiration reigns.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro