Forever adjusting my attitude
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| These calendulas were flattened by a tree but one would never guess from their amazing recovery. Certainly something for me to remember. |
Last night I was perusing blogs, one of my own long forgotten and a few quilting sites that brought me to where I am today in the sewing. Two quotes gave me plenty of pause for thought, one about fabrics, the other more personal. Yet Sarah Ruiz's statement concerning quilting struck a deep chord, that after a decade she still isn't sure about who or what she wished to be in the quilting world.
I SO NEEDED TO READ THAT, although my insecurities are wholly related to the noveling. As a quilter, I am totally an amateur. Sewing triangles scares me, I have no desire to learn partial seams, and y-seams are great only if I can baste paper pieces and sew them by hand. But as an author, jeez Louise.... Yes I write books. And some of them are pretty good, if I might say so myself. However what does a career as an author mean to me, indie or traditionally published? I have had a stop-start go with it since my first novel was released by a small press in early 2009. Family issues didn't derail the process until my mom died in 2018, then I closed up a somewhat active Wordpress blog, going into hibernation. I don't regret those few years of living under the radar, not that I had a large social media footprint. But restarting a blog this year, the going is slow. Which is OKAY. Because the second quote I discovered made me realize that regardless of how together I think I have my act going, there is always room for improvement.
Maybe I'm afraid of myself at peace, content, not worried, and even more, SHOWING that joy. Not allowing the world to get under my skin, and being just FINE with that sort of attitude.
Whoa! Those are my sentiments from 15 July, 2009. I was forty-three, man that seems young. I was trying to grasp what I wanted from a writing career, but more importantly I was mulling over some pretty intense internal struggles that TO THIS DAY continue to dog my steps. Well, all right then. Personal growth doesn't happen overnight, and not over a decade either. My childhood was fairly chaotic, but whose wasn't? Yet damage lingers, even after a few stints of therapy. I like to say that by writing heaps of melodrama, my personal life remains fairly stress free. That's a nice quip, and maybe it's partially true. But how do I live out that joyful demeanor, especially in current times? And from where do I find the path that gives me the most inner peace....
Well, writing brings me joy, except when I can't decide what next to write or what to do with it when I'm done. Do I wish to continue releasing novels independently, fully aware their scope is limited or will I query whatever it is that emerges next, and if so, does that mean I'm actively seeking representation? Well, I guess it does, if I spend time fashioning query letters. Recently I joked with a friend that it's like playing a lottery, only costing me time and energy. But what if an agent wanted to take on my next novel. DUDE.... I really can't contemplate that, yet it's an element that requires consideration when my next story comes into being. Before that occurs, perhaps I should try wrapping my head around those words in italics: Not allowing the world to get under my skin, and being just FINE with that sort of attitude.
Lots of commas in the entire statement; I love using them in an initial version, whittling them down considerably through various edits. What within me needs to be altered so that desired joy is fully grasped and shared with others? I try to do that in my writing, drafting uplifting themes, proffering messages of hope. I shed a few tears in discovering those sentiments because it's not to my own creations I need to turn to find inner peace. A less tangible force that requires quiet contemplation is where I need to go. But prayer is a lot like my current career, hidden away from most. It's like reading a book or removing errant stitches, pulling oneself into necessary solitude that initially feels like being put into time-out. Yet the results can be like no other satisfaction in this world.
My faith has been a lifetime in the nurturing and only through that faith do I truly get anything worthwhile accomplished. And while I have quilts to complete and book ideas to ponder, perhaps my biggest TO DO is to set myself into hands far greater than mine will ever be, trusting in a love so encompassing that all my hedging and whinging is not only set aside, but turned into something that I can then share in a novel or quilt to do good for another. Maybe this post is nothing more than a long-winded way to say to myself: You first need to take care of YOU before thinking you can write or quilt to help anybody else. Huh, well yes, that's very true. I want to thank Sarah Ruiz for her honesty, and thank past me for similar truisms. And hope that future me can one day be less worried about what is beyond my control. And that present me will make a cup of tea, then take a walk without my phone, a book, a notepad and pen and certainly nothing sewing related. Maybe I don't even need the cuppa. Just time to breathe, pray, and listen. Then do it all again.
