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

Happy Dance In My Head

On the last day of April - which was a fantastic month, by the way - I was travelling home on the GO Train. I was seated in one of the upper level cars, in one of those rows that face another. On rush hour trains, the upper cars are designated Quiet Zone areas - short and quiet conversations are okay; passengers may plug in to their personal devices, as long as they don't disturb others, etc. 

It was a little after 4:30...okay, it was 4:36. I had checked, just as the thought crossed my mind to ask a favour of the woman seated across from me. She had been reading The Cruellest Month - a rather thick novel. I figured if she is a reader, then she could be relied upon to give valuable feedback on a totally new piece. Before I gave myself a chance to talk myself out of it (that sounds funny), I spoke up. I had read in Blake Snyder's Save The Cat that it's a good idea to ask someone at, say, a coffee shop, to look at you work or draft or idea. I totally get that. I imagine you'd likely get great feedback from a total stranger with no hangups about hurting the feelings of someone they'll probably never lay eyes on again. And, if they do, they'll probably change coffee shops. Or, you could change coffee shops. Okay! It's not about coffee shops.

So, as I was saying, before I interrupted myself, I spoke up. 

Me: Excuse me. I've never done this before. I'm writing an introduction to my anthology of poems. Would you mind reading it and letting me know what you think? 

She: Yes, of course. 

I handed her my phone. She bookmarked her page, then looked me in the eye, "I'd be happy to read it."

Me: Thank you!

I was positively beaming! I did my happy dance in my head! Heh heh.

When she was finished, she leaned toward me and I followed cue and leaned toward her. We were, after all, in the Quiet Zone. 

She: It's very real. It's very personal, and it's moving. It should go well with the poems as that's what they're about. It needs a bit of editing, but it's really good. 

Me: Thanks so much. Could you tell me where needs editing? 

She: That part where you talk about the relationship? His pillow? Is it a real person or someone you're imagining? The reader needs to be clear on that. Hopefully, that gives you enough to go on? 

Me: Yes! Thank you!

I'm glad I'd plucked up the courage to do it. I got good feedback. She was right, of course. I knew the context I had had in  mind when I wrote that section, but the reader would need more information to make sense of it. 

Can I tell you? That was a wonderful way to end April 2015! I had won the poetry competition at the Lit Café, and @CBCBooks had held a lil #CBCRhymes competition on Twitter one day - and I was one of two (or three) winners! I received a few poetry books as my prize. They came just in time, too. A few days earlier, my publisher had asked me to send the write-ups - acknowledgements, author bio, and so on - for my upcoming poetry book. I had decided on a cover, too. When I got those books in the mail, the first thing I did was pay attention to the covers; how the titles were written; whether the font sizes were too big, etc. And, yes, I will be reading them. :-)

Fourteen to Fortyish: The Formative Years is now in the production process. 

Again, #HappyDanceInMyHead! 

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

Poetry on the GO

There's always something to write about. It's amazing how, once you put pen to paper, or finger tips to keyboard, the words come. They sometimes come in poetry; they sometimes come in prose. But, however they do, they come.

Not too long ago, as I sat aboard a GO train headed for Union Station in Toronto, I noticed a familiar gesture. The woman who sat across from me stared out the window. Her reflection fused with oncoming trees, cars, and buildings. I faced the direction of the train; she did not.

It came to me then, as it had so many times before, that I could use even a seemingly mundane thing as a springboard for a story.
Plus, I take the train so often, I'm bound to fimd gems - if I take the time to notice.

That morning, the words came in poetry. I knew the title immediately. That I would call the collection "Poetry on the GO" came later.

And, while I do not yet have that collection, per se - actually, only one poem so far - I know the others will come. Here now is the first from the...collection.

Tears On A Train

She sat looking out the window 

Of the LSW Train 

Something must've been boiling 

Because, tears came.

She searched her back for tissue 

None was to be found 

So, instead of looking out 

She started looking down. 

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

The Journey

Six years. My dad has a saying, "The time is moving so fast, people don't have time to age." :-) I get that. My lil home here in cyberspace started six years ago today. And, it's still under construction. As I am. As we all are. Still here? You're still a work-in-progress.

I won't be long tonight. (Don't all rejoice at once. Heh heh.) More than anything, I wanted to say thanks for sticking around; for reading each post, or most of them...even a few. When I started this blog, it was so that I'd have an outlet. #writeorsuffocate. I still keep journals. They've metamorphosed into prayer journals. But, this place in cyberspace is kinda special. It helps keep me disciplined in my writing. To be honest, I've started to breathe easier. So, the writing here has helped. :-) The journals do have their place, of course. For Him, a place apart.

Funny. An insurance agent asked me recently about my prized possessions - Jewellry? I told him nope. I do have a favourite pair of earrings going 20 years now... The stuff I treasure are more of sentimental than monetary value. Like the journals I've been keeping since I was 14. If those go, I told him, they couldn't be replaced anyway, so let's move on. He agreed. We moved on.

So, back to the outlet. This has been great. And, it continues to be great. I get to write whatever the heck I want. You've seen the posts - or not. If you're new to this blog, welcome. Feel free to scroll though the years. It's important to me that I write whatever I want. So, the subject matter and content - and, occasionally, style - do vary. From Buju to Baby Shower; from McLuhan to Marley. In the end, I would have written what was on my heart and mind. And, out of 220 posts, I'd say one - no more than two - left me a bit bothered about whether I'd said exactly what I'd set out to say.

On the cusp of the seventh year, I am thankful. I am thankful to God for this blessing to create and write. I am thankful for my life. I have been wondering how, my life being spared, the next year of writing will be shaped. What new experiences will inform my writing; whether there will be more passion about certain things; to give or not to give even more of myself and share a few testimonials, all for the sake of lending a hand. As I've said many times, one of the best things someone could possibly say to me, having read my writing - be it prose or poem - is how well they can relate. Relateability. (I keep using that spelling...)

Don't you ever wonder why it's so important for someone else to know they're not the only one who's going through a particular time of despair; a certain trial; a rough patch that seems unending? That someone else has, too? I've wondered about that. Why is it important for someone to know a certain bad situation is not unique to them? Why does it matter that Tom, Dick and Harry have made it through this? Or, are going through it as well. Good for them. This is me, and I know how it feels and they couldn't have felt this way and things could never have been so bad and so on and so forth. As I thought about it, all I came up with was hope. It's a simple answer, really. Hope that if someone else made it through, maybe you can, too. If someone else is strong enough to continue enduring, maybe you can, too. Relateability makes my heart glad, because it says, someone read my work and saw themselves in it, and were encouraged or inspired by the how I came through/am going through a similar mess; bore/is bearing a comparable cross. And yet, I'm still here! And how.

We all have something. No one has "got it all together". Some don't say much; some find an outlet and some, well, with them it's TMI. Point is, one doesn't have to be an expert in any field of study to offer a hand to hold. It's a human thing. I'm big on hand-holding in a time of despair or anxiety. Hold my hand. No words. I've found it to be comforting. I suppose that's the other thing with relateability (a tweep assured me it is a word). Hope is one thing; the other thing is comfort. Perhaps that's one way of looking at it. I'd also like my writing to be seen as offering my hand to hold.

This paragraph is dedicated to family and friends who've held my hand - figuratively and literally - on this journey.

Now, the writing doesn't have to say, "There, there," to be comforting. Even if it simply evokes a feeling of, "You know what, the way she writes? All is not lost in today's world. I'm inclined to believe everything is going to be alright." That'd make my heart glad.

The recent passing of a few famous people has reminded us that the journey of this life does not go on forever. Robin Williams' passing saddened me - for a number of reasons. Lauren Bacall's evoked tributes that reminded the world of her love for Bogey. (I also finally figured out the lyrics to Key Largo. Don't ask!) And, today, Roger Clarke, Jamaica's Minister of Agriculture, passed away in Florida, as he prepared to travel to Jamaica. Walk good, Roger Clarke.

As that line from Wear Sunscreen says, "The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself."

Here's to more creating, more writing, and more glad hearts on the journey.



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

Arise, shine.

Sometimes you read a piece of writing and it just sticks.  The piece of writing by Marianne Williamson I share toward the end of this post, has stuck with me ever since I first read it. Like many other great pieces, it was, for a while, incorrectly attributed to a famous person. Such is the case when the world finds it difficult to believe that profound work can come from a not-known or lesser-known human being. 

I did not have this piece in mind when I started this blog – a part of my Create Your Own Productions move – five years ago. Neither did I have in mind the fact that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr had delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech on August 28, 1963. As I thought about this anniversary piece, however, I knew it had to reiterate the foundational “Arise, shine” as Isaiah 60: 1-3 moved me in 2008. It was my kick-in-the-pants; my shot-in-the-arm; my it-has-started-hurting-bad-enough moment. And, that year, with my mother’s encouragement, “Why not create your own…?” and Usain Bolt and #TeamJamaica’s inspirational achievements in Bejing, I had to act. It took far more courage than I thought I had in me – I’d be open to public ridicule for poor writing, is what I thought – but I did it. I was on the verge of suffocating from too many words caught in my throat. I simply had to write – or suffocate.

In that moment, too, I grabbed hold of the support that was the truth of that passage:

Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the LORD is risen upon thee.

For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the LORD shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee.

And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.

So, it was an elongated moment where many sources of inspiration came together. Looking back, had I not been stewing in a state of despair; feeling oh so forlorn, that gave way to seeking hope and strength and inspiration, I might not have made that one simple courageous step.

I imagine that many will look on and ask, “Sooo, ummm, where’s the fruit of your work?” Ummm, you’re reading it; make that, a piece of it. I am not about to give my résumé of pieces I’ve written; pieces I’m writing. Simply put, I feel happy – who would’ve thunk it? – that I am doing what I set out to do. Still desire to be published but, in the meantime, it is important to me to keep this date of the 8ths – 8^th; 18^th and 28^th for posting – and I have not broken that promise to myself.  And, of course, my out-of-the-public’s-eye writing goes on. 

One other piece of the fruit – and the sweeter part – is the intangible. (For, you can always print these posts. Just please remember to ask permission first. Feel free to link back to them, though.) Now and again I’ll get a comment from someone saying how much it touched/moved/inspired them; how much they appreciated it; how they experienced a lift in their spirit, and so on. Sigh. When you don’t know the difference you make… That right there is the juice and the succulence and the joy and the warmth of it that makes me feel humbled and blessed, that God would use me to do this. (And, yes, I was kinda thinking about millie mango when I wrote that. J)

Thank God – not a phrase, really – I thank God, that I am no longer suffocating. There are new media through which I write and, one of the things that keep me grounded; keep me home; keep me shielded; keep me unscathed from the cynical and the bitter and the sub-tweets and sub-posters and sub-texts, is the fact that I am honest in my writing. Some things get through, and I like that. I’d rather not have a skin so thick that the helpful criticism is kept out with the unkind. But, for the most part, I am at home and sheltered, in the honesty. Remember the bit I shared by C.S. Lewis the other day?

Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that’s the whole art and joy of words.

Yeah. So, I re-read and go, yes, that is what I wanted to say. (Except for that one time the other day when I skirted an issue for fear of being dragged into a brouhaha… But, let’s not revisit that, ok?) I honestly believe that, since people are people wherever you go, being honest from the depth of my heart on an issue will resonate with at least one other human being; will have relatability. My feelings have to be centered somewhere. And, it shows where, when I share them.

This gets its own paragraph: I don’t know why other writers write. But, one of the highlights of my writing is someone saying, “I know exactly what you mean. I can relate to that.” It is not necessarily in that order. They say it however they want, but, you know what I mean.

And, before I close this post, I thank you, all of you, who take the time to read these posts. Thank you, all of you, who take the time to comment on the content or simply to encourage me.  To those who’ve been there from the start – my mother, my youngest sis and other members of my birth family – thank you for your support. 

Continuing with the theme of shining in this anniversary month, it is my pleasure to share the following with you.  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.

Let's use it all up. Arise; shine!

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

A Rescuer of Things

There's a quote I came across last October. It goes:

“You know what getting married is? It's agreeing to taking this person who right now is at the top of his form, full of hopes and ideas, feeling good, looking good, wildly interested in you because you're the same way, and sticking by him while he slowly disintegrates. And he does the same for you. You're his responsibility now and he's yours. If no one else will take care of him, you will. If everyone else rejects you, he won't. What do you think love is? Going to bed all the time?”
- Jane Smiley

I loved it the moment I read it. Shared it in a few consecutive tweets, too. When I got to the end, I kinda wanted to answer, "So, ummm, wait...what?" Lol! As a friend of mine said to me sometime last year, love alone isn't enough [for marriage]. And, whaddya know? Turns out that the make-up of the love itself might be different than what you had long envisioned.

All these things. (As a sis would say.) My thoughts turned to "these things" as I pored over almost two decades of writing the other night. Like, seriously. I'm gonna have to stop writing! ....... Hahahahahahahaha! I crack me up! Too funny! Okay. By that I mean... Actually, nothing comes to mind. Here's the thing. Perhaps I could just keep doing what I'm doing and, after a while, see what needs to go. Fast. And, unceremoniously. Because, well, I tend to keep it all. I'm gonna resist the temptation to list some of the things I've kept since nineteen long time.

I'm not a hoarder, per se. Hmm. Reminds me of a preview of "Hoarders" that was being shown repeatedly in the run-up to the broadcast date. As the woman in the clip cast a glance at the mountain of stuff in her house, she summed up her life's philosophy in this memorable piece: "I wouldn't say I'm a hoarder. I'm a rescuer of things."  Uh-huh.

My defence? I hold on to, and take care of, the things that mean a lot to me. Those "things" would include the pages and pages of thoughts on my friendships and relationships and interactions and passing fancies... When I came across the ones spanning about four months in 1996, I just knew that their retention period was up. And, it's not as if I had ever planned to have a retention period for these reams and wads and stacks of paper and books. I just figured I'd keep writing until I could no longer hold a pen or pencil to paper (including napkins, restaurant receipts...). What would family I'd have left behind do with the lot? No idea. I imagine, my life being spared, that it might be a good idea to put some instructions down somewhere. I mean, I still dream of becoming a world-renowned writer. In years to come, perhaps long after I'm gone, those pieces may very well become highly sought-after relics.

So, what caused me to ditch that batch? Quite simply, it was ugly. I felt like I was fingering a scar that I had somehow discovered a new fascination for. And, as I passed my finger over it, I couldn't resist picking at it then digging away at it. Like I was trying to figure out why and how I got that mark in the first place. And, for those twenty or so minutes that I dug and read - after a while I skimmed - I began to feel sickish. I no longer held it dear and it meant nothing to me now. There was no answer coming to complete the "I need to hold on to this because...". I did have a very ready answer for why it needed to go. There was no longer a place for such ugly in the beauty of the now.

There were no second thoughts. It was one of those things that, when you're doing it, or about to do it, you just know it's right. It's even beyond the realm of knowing to just being right. No long prayer, just time to act. So, I rolled up the papers, put 'em in my bag and took them to my workplace the following day. (Felt I needed to use the shredder that minces paper.) And, quite unceremoniously, I pulverized them!

After all, there are new things that are springing forth; new things for me to hold dear and take care of.  The beauty of the now shall be clutter-free. I gotta make room for the new things to grow. For, apparently, love is more than "going to bed all the time."


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

Working at Relaxing

For those of us who are constantly on the go; the ones who are always working, working, working - for real, that is - it takes that much longer to unwind. Am I right or am I right? I told my friend Debbie that I am trying to "sit still" while on vacation. She didn't miss a beat in telling me that "they'd have to tie you down." Lol!

Reluctantly, but knowingly, I had to agree with her. It just takes a while to bring my thoughts to slow motion; to a pace where I can take a second look at each one and decide whether to entertain it. More often than not, even when I do not have the time, I milk a thought to its logical or illogical end. And, most of those times, it's about solving a problem. Imagine, then, when I have several problems on the go!

I use the word "problems" loosely. Simply, a situation that needs to be addressed and which presents more than one option. Because, that's essentially what they all come down to. The thing is, sometimes it's a matter of not liking the better or right solution. Usually, the better or right solution comes packaged with a longer waiting period; higher cost; more work/effort and so on. But, it is what it is. And, kicking and screaming or going gently into that good night, we eventually have to make a decision.

Being on vacation of course does not mean being away from situations that require clarity of thought, good judgement and workable solutions. But, thankfully, the day-to-day is different - mostly for the better. It offers a prolonged moment of not having to deal with the stress of work and commuting and the like. "Time away" is usually time spent - or, invested, if you like - with family and/or friends. If you do get away from it (and them) all, and, if you're "tight like that", you may find that your mind is constantly on it (and them), anyway. Ever get that?

I've been working at relaxing and trying to convince myself that it's okay, (no, really), not to have the answer for a million and one things; that no one really expects me to and I can de-clutter that space in my mind that stores answers for the just-in-case questions and situations. (As if you don't do that, too!) Nature abhors a vacuum, though. So, what do I do with the new space I eke out? Well, vacation-type stuff may arise. On the stress metre, those are at a manageable level. Outside of that, hardly anything else is of concern. Of course, there's always time for writing. I'm either thinking of writing or #amwriting. The biggest "problem" that presents is something along the lines of deciding what to title a blog post. ;-)

And that level of relaxation is okay. It's okay. No, really.



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

The WriMo and the Reason

I'm back in NaNoWriMo. That's National Novel Writing Month for the uninitiated. :-) It's my third year where I get to write a novel/novella of at least 50,000 words in the month of November. Zowie! Yeah, I'm that overjoyed. No, really. You may have heard the saying. "Writers don't need time, what we need is a deadline"? Well, it's kinda like that.

And, that's why I'm back - to feed off that push; that oomph! NaNoWriMo has helped me with the discipline for routine writing. There's a target word count per day - or night, in my case - and it helps keep me on track. (I had extra words in my "word bank" on the US presidential election night! Didn't let it interfere with the writing, though. But, I had 'em, just in case. By the way, congratulations, Mr. President! All the best to you and the US of A.)

From the past two WriMo events, I've had practice in how to craft a story and hold it together over a longer stretch. This time, I have a feeling I'm gonna go past the word count goal. And, if not, I'm thinking I'll have a bit more to write even after it's done. I've basically tuned out the writing advice on Twitter, etc. The last bit I faved said, "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." (Ernest Hemingway) And I thought, if I write one true sentence after another, this should be good. The other before that was, "Work on a computer that is disconnected from the Internet." (Zadie Smith). Brilliant. So, that's what I do.

When I mentioned to a friend of mine that I was doing NaNoWriMo again this year, he said stteo: "I believe you still have that #1 Best Seller in you. Just write with your heart and soul. You have been writing with your heart and hand; write with your heart and soul." Just...wow!

So, having prayed about it and asked the Holy Spirit to write through me, that's what I've been doing since November 1.  I imagine it won't be an easy read for some. But, I believe it will be a must read for many.

Cover me, oh God. I'm going in.


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

Writers' Heaven

How often do we get the opportunity to occupy our comfort zone? (Not thinking in the sense of Occupy Wall, Bay, Main and other streets now.  Stay with me.)  I mean occupy as in filling up our entire comfort zone  with, and being engaged in, something that is so satisfying, it moves us.  Hmm.  Occupy to the point of being moved.  And, we might have a few comfort zones but, I'm talking about that special one; the one you'd refer to as the zone.  Truth is, depending on our particular situations, we don't get such an opportunity very often.  What to do?  What to do?  If it means that much to us, we have to make these opportunities; make the time to indulge in and bask in and revel in that zone.

I don't know whether this has ever happened to you, but, over the past couple of years - and, more so, in the past few months - it has happened to me.  It's that phenomenon where, you publicly express your desire or preference for something and, all of a sudden, you become aware of like things around you.  Once I finally knocked some sense into my head and woke up conscious to the fact that my not being a published writer does not make me any less of a writer; once I recognized the fact (read: fact) that I had to write or suffocate; once I nodded my head in agreement with my handsome inner editor that I was not in love with the idea of writing (though, what a lovely idea, eh?) but the act of writing - and that the act is hard, grueling, at times frustrating work that might not even be rewarding except in the relief and satisfaction that the words on the page are exactly the words you wanted to get out; the story you wanted to tell...  Once I got all that out, or done, or in, I began to see opportunities to help me on this journey.  Folks around me - beside my sis @MizDurie, my harshest and gentlest critic, and my mother @jawil7, my biggest fan, in whose eyes none of my writing is ever crap (Language! Sorry, mother!) - started talking to me, and getting me to talk, about my writing.  In time, encouragement came from other quarters like Twitter - people whom  I'd never met before, but seemed to realize what my writing meant to me. Imagine my joy when I saw a comment on one of my posts from @grammakaye the other day!  Precious little things like that...

And, bigger things, too!  I long ago signed up for alerts to communications courses organized by my workplace.  Imagine my delight when I saw one for Creative Communicators! I registered. The long and the short, turns out I had registered for writers' heaven!  And I didn't have to die or anything!  It was a glorious day spent occupying my comfort zone.  And, people who "get it"; who get "this writing thing" were there.  Do you know how much of a relief it is not to have to explain the wherefores (read: whys) of yourself as a writer?  It's surprising how light that makes you feel. The facilitators, @imruthwalker and @gwynnscheltema, gently helped me discover, hitherto yet unknown (to me, anyway) abilities within.  (It was like that time I went to audition for that ad, and the casting director asked me to convey a particular emotion.  It was not until that moment that I knew I could cry on cue!)  So, there we were, in writers' heaven.  It was a mixed group - folks at different places on their own journeys.  We shut the doors; shut out the rest of the workplace - and the world.  We locked ourselves away and made ourselves at home.  Home.  Just looking at that word, knowing the weight of the meaning it holds in relation to my writing, brings tears.  I have a bit of a reference to a Robert Frost's poem on my Twitter account.  But, the desired quote from "The Death of the Hired Man" says, "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in."  I live in writing.  It's a haven for me. (The Lord knows what I mean; He gets it.) It's that place where, if they don't take me in, I'd be homeless...

I'm glad they've taken me in.  Who's "they"?  Doesn't matter.  At this moment, though, "they" just might be my alter ego which has an alter ego - which isn't me!  The little voices in my head must be them plotting how to get out.  Periodically, I pay them some mind, introduce them to my handsome inner editor, and, as soon as we transcribe their stories, they go quiet again.

'Til next time.


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

Focused Writing Helps Build Brand

I've heard and read that so many times.  People come to regard you as an expert, or respect your opinion on a topic, when you have established credibility on said topic.   Whether the credibility has been established through formal training, studies, research or experience, if and when you put yourself out there, and do it often enough, people will start listening.  It doesn't matter if yours is an audience of two or two thousand, people will start seeking you out for your input.

FROM THE HEART
One of the key things, of course, is the "put yourself out there" part.  And many are afraid of doing just that.  'Cause, you know, you might get criticized and rejected and what not.  But, let's say you manage to get past that and one person, then another, then another starts noticing.  Before you know it, you're regarded as knowing quite a bit about 'x' topic.  And, in most cases, it helps if you keep abreast with what's happening in that area, of course. Goes to show that you really hold the matter close to your heart.  And where better from which to speak in a convincing and passionate way?

BUILDING 'STREET CRED'
Still, it's not the size of the audience that I'm looking at now.  It's the matter of you, a brand-builder, building your own brand. You, wanting to be taken as a serious voice on 'x' topic, had better know how to stay on topic every time you open your mouth or write about said topic.  You've been keeping abreast and staying informed - backed by your solid experience or any of the above-mentioned credibility-building avenues - making it worth your audience's and readers' while to tune in to you; to connect.  Make it so that they learn something from your utterances; your presentation; your interview.  Whatever.  Doing so will build your 'street cred' even more, more than likely getting you several more connections and bookings and readers and listeners along the way.

One other important part is to stay in touch.  Remain visible.  Well, as long as you care about that sort of thing.  Too many connectivity devices and media out there now to disappear into thin air once you've got the ball a-rolling.  I think people get that you are human.  They get that life happens and things don't always go according to plan.  But, don't take 'em for granted.  Check in every so often with those who are listening, reading, or just simply expecting that you're still "that guy" who knows so much and is so passionate about 'x'.  Who knows?  For all you know, instead of the two people who, occasionally, might express an interest in what you write; in what you say, there might be two hundred.  Sometimes the moment you miss a beat - blog not posted, tweet not ...tweeted - they call you out on it.  Nice.

So, keep at it already.  And do try to stay on message.

THE CHALLENGE
I am so preaching to myself right now.  It's quite challenging, really.  I saw a tweet the other day that said stteo: If you want to go ahead and write about anything you want, go ahead.  But don't complain when the world doesn't beat a path to your door.  Truth is, at this time, I'm more interested in keeping courageous and getting the stuff out of me, than I am about the world beating a path to my door.   That's why my posts are about whatever I want to write.  'Cause there's a myriad thoughts occupying my mind at any one time - like most people, I'm sure.  And sometimes, I get the urge to write every one of them down in a post.  But, alas, that would be counter-productive to the whole brand-building thing, as I've heard it.  And so I am, at times, conflicted.  I want to say something.  But, do I write what I'm thinking about? Or do I go for what, at that point in time, is closest to the topic I'm regarded as being 'good at.'  ("It's what I do, and I'm good at it."  Love that line from Monk.) Do I write about "The lipstick impression left on my window after two (Superworks!) car washes"?  Or do I go for "The community within a community:  How Shout Outs in the t.o. newspaper have interconnected the commuting community on the GO"? (Can hardly believe I'm linking to the site, given how I felt about them when they first came on the scene September 2009.  But, I check 'em out now for the SOs - usually funny and help to pass the time on the GO train.)

Why, oh why can't I do both?   I mean, I don't have to write about writing or communications all the time, right?  Perhaps the experts would say that after I've built the brand, and people have come to know what to expect, and I have that dedicated 'following', then I can take the liberty to venture out every so often into an off-topic, without surrendering any of that street cred.

BEING FEARLESS
This is me fighting the theory; the 'beat a path to your door' admonition.  *smh* At this time, like I said, it's more important to keep the courage in getting the stuff out.  So, I'll  write, speak, tweet to satisfy the longing that comes to the fore at that point in time. The world can beat a path now or later, but, I gotta be fearless and write what I want.

If not, I'll suffocate.


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

This is gonna be good

Well, what other outlook could I possibly have at this point except that of the positive kind? 

My personal challenge to read four novels for the month of December 2010 has only three days left to be fulfilled.  Admittedly,  I'm two-and-a-half novels behind.  Nevertheless, I shall continue reading while starting the challenge for January 2011, (life spared).  A bit of an overlap there but, it's a necessary one, I imagine.  Remember, the idea was to read a few novels, learn a thing or two, then re-visit the novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo?  So, still on that.

The challenge has proven to be even more of a challenge in the dedicated month of December.  So much stuff to do in the month. But, as it turns out, it's the one that follows November; the month of the adrenaline-pumping (for the most part) novel-writing in 30 days.

A few things I've learnt so far?

• Don't be afraid to name all the people that show up - even in some small way - in your novel
• Bring in humour when it's least expected
• Assume your readers are intelligent
• You can get away with "stock phrases"; commonly-used terms, but compensate with really, really good twists and turns

Still learning. Still looking forward to January's editing.  Perhaps that should be, "looking forward to starting the editing in January".  All that, along with the plethora of fantastic outcomes I'm anticipating for the new year.  Ahhh!  I'm definitely a New Year kind o' girl!

In any case, I'm on it!  You with me?


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

Wrote a novel in 25 days

Purposely omitted the exclamation sign in the title. For, by now, it's not about an announcement, per se. (OK.  One more peek at my Winner badge...)

It really is more like a quiet and sobering realization. Imagine taking up the challenge to write a novel of at least 50,000 words in 30 days, on the 5th day in! At the start, I was behind, but knew I wanted to do it anyway. I went at it with the appropriate number if butterflies in my stomach.

The organizers (NaNoWriMo)knew what they were talking about wrt the reliable muse of public humiliation. That helped. But, in the end, what did I learn? About writing? About my ability? About relationships?


ABOUT WRITING
Writing a novel is hard. It is like ... well, it's UNlike anything else I've ever done. (I hear it's like giving birth, but I don't have first hand experience of that yet.) First, you wonder, why did I set out to do this again? And, after you've convinced yourself that it makes sense to do it, (for whatever your reason), you find that it's harder than you imagined. You then pause, having begun, (and knowing that others are watching you try to accomplish the feat), to ask yourself whether you really like writing or whether you like the IDEA of writing or being a writer. (Gotta say, it's a lovely idea.)

Once you've convinced yourself that you are indeed a writer and you don't just like the idea of writing or being a writer, you proceed. And, at some point, it hits you, you are not alone in whatever state you may find yourself. Even the best of the best; the New York Times-bestselling authors; the Scotiabank Giller prize winners; former WriMos et al, have gone through similar gut-wrenching, daunting, black-hole-engulfing feelings. It's a myriad questions and anxieties and what not. And you still have to keep at it, even when you feel you're making 10 steps backward for every one page finished; disliking the very story you're writing...


ABOUT MY ABILITY
I was careful not to write "about self-discovery" - with good reason. This, however, deals with discovering - and not in a Chris Columbus kind of way - that I do in fact have that thing in me to complete a book. Well, it's not one thing, (although there is one thing that is essential without which I couldn't do it), but a number of things working in tandem. Having believed for a looong time that I am a writer - so many people have told me, they couldn't all be wrong; I began to embrace the evidence myself a while back, too - I knew I could achieve that feat in one fell swoop. So, it was a personal challenge; an extraordinary 'note-to-self'. And, in the end, it was done. I discovered the ability to do something I had never done before.

What does that mean? For one, I now feel way more confident in helping my dad write his book. That one has been a long time coming. Two, I am confident that I can write another novel and another. Having opened my eyes and mind to the lessons and tips along the way, I have even begun to think that perhaps a collection of short stories is (finally) in order. The moral of the story? They're all within reach. Just need to extend my hand - even if it means a bit o' tip toe effort - and grab 'em!

I recently changed my @cyopro Twitter profile text (Yes. Again.) to read something along the lines of 'only you will ever be you and let's use our talent to the last drop.' I think it's important - and possibly, life saving - to resolve and take the necessary steps not to die with it inside. So, even before all this when I was encouraging people to be the best they can; say what they have to; breathe... and all that, it was against the backdrop of leading by example. Not just talking the talk. To roll the sleeves up and do it can be so inspiring to others. Now, I smile when I realize that I've done that. And, sometimes, we just need to be inspired.


ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS
Ummm...these don't end just because you're writing. Relationships, like life, continue irrespective of whether you are writing, thinking about writing or thinking about what to write. The quality of them might change just a tad. By that I mean frequency of calls and get-together (and knowing that the people from the gym might call, again, 'cause long-time-no-see!) and such. But, the ones that really matter? The relationships with your mom, your dad, your siblings, your tightest friends (not the 500+ on fb - not knocking it, just sayin'), remain solid. 'Cause they know you. Well. They understand that your 'free' time is devoted to writing and schedules are made around the writing. They occasionally enquire on how it's going but not so often you feel annoyed, especially when you haven't met your word-count for the day. They are supportive and helpful and are your biggest cheerleaders and critics - sometimes embodied in the same person. (Right @MizDurie?)

In short. They get it. They get you. And there is glorious comfort in that.


SHOW UP; LISTEN UP; BRUSH UP
So, I've tweeted about my little challenge for December - to read one novel per week for the month. The idea is to tap into the beautiful works of my fav authors and see where and how mine falls short.  I'm on it. Now reading Robin Cook's "Vital Signs".


The idea of my novel stemmed from my idea for a play. So, there are three things I'm working on now, as I seek to use my God-given talent well - the novel, the play and the book of short stories. This doesn't mean other projects are excluded. Nope. Like I said, "to the last drop."

And, as has long been my main concern about that to which I put my hands: "Do I make Him proud?"


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com

My two reasons for joining the NaNoWriMo 2010 competition

Have you ever decided to do something, knowing that other people would be watching or somehow become aware of the outcome? You know you’d be on the hook? Think back. Did you do it, eventually? Why? Why not?

I don’t have stats to support the percentage of people who procrastinate on a daily basis; take up challenges in public and never finish; do finish…that sort of thing. I mean, where would I find those anyway? Yahoo it? (LO real L!)

Imagine that you’ve decided to enter a marathon – doesn’t matter which or where. Maybe, say, 99% of the people don’t know you; have never heard of you; don’t care. However, your inner circle of family members, friends, relatives, you know? The people who really matter? They know! Oh my gosh! They so know. They’ve witnessed you practising and, especially if it’s for a ‘cause – have hit up their own friends to sponsor you in your venture. So, even more people know.

Well, more often than not, those within your inner circle – and a few others – will be lined up or watching on TV or linked by BBM, Twitter, FB etc. to remain tuned in to how you are doing. Or, shortly after, to find out how you’ve done.

NO PRESSURE
The NaNoWriMo, which I learned about after the month of NaNoWriMo-madness had begun, is kinda like that. I’ve already told a few people in the inner circle, the 40-odd FB friends, and the 20-odd connections on Twitter. (Way too much pressure to embrace the concept of people following me. Reminds me of a saying by Alexandre Auguste Ledru-Rollin: “There go my people. I must find out where they are going so I can lead them!”) Anyway, that’s the lot. Oh! And now you, the reader of this post.

Now, having started, I have to continue.

THE REASONS (in no particular order)
1. I rock
I try to keep in mind a few tips that the organizers wrote in their confirmation email after I signed up: “You rock for even trying!” That doesn’t give me an out; a sugar-coated pat on the back to say, “There there! It’s okay if you don’t finish in time.” No, what it says to me is that they get it. They get that writing is sometimes as easy as breathing and for the other 99% of the time, it’s as tough as a diamond. (Yes. On purpose – ‘cause I imagine the oohs and aahs when it gets done.) Someone said they wouldn’t wish it on their worst enemy; another, that it’s 3% talent and 97% staying away from the Internet. You get it.

2. The discipline
This venture is actually helping me hone the discipline I need to write better. So many times I’ve had to make a note to self: “You’re a writer.” True. There have durations of quiet; silence; stillness on the writing front. Nothing for the public. My best attempt at publicly keeping the consistency and regularity has been this blog. And, that was after I convinced myself that while I wouldn’t be pressured into saying just anything simply because I blog, I must have a point of view on something!

I’ve written books of poetry, short stories; a book – all unpublished. I’ll get ‘em out. Somehow. The writing I hold most dear, however, is my journal/prayer journal (it metamorphosed) spanning the last 25 years or so. Still at it; still loving it.

November 5, 2010 was my start date for my novel. The thing began on November 1, 2010. No worries. Instead of the 1600+ words recommended to make the deadline, I need to be doing more than that now to catch up. As it is (joyfully) turning out, I’m writing an average of about 2200 words per day. At that rate, I should be back on track in about 12 – 14 days. Do the math. No, serious, do the math.


3. The competition
Especially that I’m competing against myself. That’s how I put it, anyway. I just need to finish this novel. According to the rules – “Unless, I’m wrong, which, you know, I’m not” (Moooooonk!) – to finish (writing a novel of at least 50,000 words) is to win.

I like the part where they talk about shutting up your “inner editor”. He can be so noisy –and I don’t know why mine is a ‘he’. They remind us that December is for editing; just write with “wild abandon!”

Now, did I say two reasons? Anyone who knows me well, knows I’m math-challenged. As I tweeted the other day, I no longer cringe when I make those (especially obvious) mistakes. Now, I could have just gone ahead and replaced the two with three, but, where’s the fun in that? How would I have got that beauty of an opportunity to refer to my tweet? (Heh heh.)

To NaNoWriMo! To Victory! Haroo!


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

V-formation

Depending on what we set out to do, and how much doing it, (and the result of doing it) mean to us, we tend to feel a bit queasy. I know it's not just me. (Right?)

Well, so it is with my writing. I set out to do it; do it, then wonder about the after-effects as soon as it takes flight and becomes subject to the "reader's interpretation". Each stage offers up its own degree of anxiety, but I imagine it's that last bit that offers up the most.

I wrote a letter to the Editors of the two main newspapers in Jamaica two days ago. Essentially, I tried to get folks to focus on the possibility that their online profiles might be doing them more harm than good.

The butterflies were flying in V-formation. I wrote my full name, inhaled, exhaled, acknowledged the possibility of rejection (again!) said a quick prayer and hit "submit". No hiding behind my pseudonym "Cee Dubya". Just sent it. Out there.

The Jamaica Gleaner published it as the "Letter of the Day" today! Last time I checked, it was 'recommended' and 'liked' - someone referred to it as an "excellent article." (Thank you!)

And, to boot, what a memorable way to mark the second anniversary of this blog!


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

...and counting!

Well, whaddya know? The previous post was the 50th one! I'm like, wow, who would've thunk it? I'm pretty psyched about that, as you can guess, as it means I've held the commitment to writing.

I would be the first to admit it (if asked:) Sometimes the writing isn't the most interesting piece of work I put out there, but, always, it's honest. And that has to count for sopm, right?

In my book it does :) (OK. Lemme tone down the self aggrandizement a bit :) Truth is, though, I'm glad I've kept at it. That's 50 posts and counting...right into the new year, too!

What a glorious way to start 2010? I love, (did I mention this before?) just loooove the beginning of a new year! It's like, the scales of the old year (I somehow always think of it using this metaphor) are immediately peeled off and reveals a fresh, new, vibrant, exciting, radiant, shiny, bright and hopeful time. It's as if I'm given a brand-spanking new canvass and I have the opportunity to do excellent work with it!

And so I shall! I rang in 2010 at a church service and what a way to do it, too?! I s'pose that also adds to my feeling of "starting out on the right foot". I now look forward to the new position/role I will be filling come next week. I've been assured that it's an exciting one ("not your usual government desk job"); one that promises to draw from my strong communication, education and outreach suite of skills.

My mission? To perform my job with excellence, doing it as unto God.

For right now, though, I shall continue to enjoy the company of my niece in the last few days of my 3-wk vacation. Her parents have been kind enough to allow her to sleep over :-) and it's been a blast.

Oh, one of my Rotties, Tara, had pups. I got here when they were still under a week old. Mother and pups are doing well. Haven't yet introduced them to papa. In time. In time. Now, they're growling and barking up a storm.

And, maybe, just maybe, this is the year when I'll fall in love. Again. This time, meet the man who's right for me, at the right time...

It'd be nice to fall in love, actually.


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

In place of the writing

Do you know what today is? Today is the one-year anniversary of this blog. Hm. Feelin’ pretty good about that, actually. It has been a labour of…well, not so much love as desire for continuity, stick-to-it-edness and longevity.

I do love to write, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I do it more in a personal space (read: Journal) than anywhere else. Having stuck with this blog for a year now, I believe I’ve move past writing it being a “great idea” to the writing itself.

The good thing is that I’ve kept it true to what I wanted. It’s about anything I wish to write. No scrutiny, no critique, no evaluation. S’just what I want to say on whatever subject I want to say it.

Of course, I can hardly mark the anniversary without mentioning the inspiration that jolted me last year; the shot in the arm, if you will. It was the inspiring achievements that the Jamaican athletes made at the 29th Olympiad held in Beijing last year. The likes of Shelly Ann Fraser, Usain Bolt, Asafa Powell, Veronica Campbell Brown, Kerron Stewart and the other team members, made our hearts swell. And, for some, like myself, spurred us into action. This year at the 12th IAAF World Championships held in Berlin, they were at it again. A year to the date, Bolt broke the 100M record he set in Beijing - 9.69s to 9.58s and on the anniversary of the 200M, he broke that one as well – 19.30s to 19.19s.

Like many people, I do think now and then about my legacy. What would I have left for longevity to be remembered by; to benefit my loved ones, long after they bury me?

A few things come to mind – none takes the place of the writing.


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