Monday, January 29, 2018

Evolution

In 2011 I staked my own flag in digital ground with a style blog masquerading under the moniker "Lifestyle". I was in the early stages of creative self-discovery following some major relationship shake ups. For the first time, I was exploring what I liked rather than what was expected of me. The blog was fun, and for a time it met a need for creative expression.

Interest (mine) waned toward the Fall of 2012. I was pregnant with my third child and working a full time corporate job. I discovered an inverse relationship with pregnancy and blogging: the baby grew and my interest in blogging about style shrunk. For the past two years, I had been under the leadership of a wonderful life coach and becoming steadily healthier. A focus on my inner world quickly overshadowed a focus on my outer world. The birth of my baby girl was what would eventually be the first death rattle of my style blog.

The years after baby 3 were born were sweet and simple. For the first time, I was able to stay home with my kids, and I gloried in all the baby-ness and stay-at-home-ness. I forgot all about the blog. In Spring 2014 I went back to work super part time.  I was still growing (counseling, groups, books) and getting healthier. Then we had two back-to-back difficult years that propelled me into a new season. To say they were "difficult" would be to diminish how punishing they were. We were tested bodily, spiritually, and financially in ways we felt approached biblical proportions. On top of that, the world had gone crazy-pants sideways. Between the social upheaval and political landscape of 2016, there was nowhere to run from the crazy. Having journaled every day for the better part of my life, I turned to writing.

It started as a series of essays helping me cope with the turmoil I saw in culture, a landscape that was becoming increasingly unrecognizable. Then I wrote a few embarrassingly bad short stories. During the time, I was training for a marathon doing a lot of running in the dark before children rose and the work day began. After I ran, I would get in my car and text myself the thoughts and ideas I had during the run.

One morning a scene like from a movie began playing in my head. I thought, "I should write that down." Then my inner critic - the one I was always fighting to recover from, the one who always told me I wasn't good enough or worth loving - piped in and told me I was crazy. Who was I to think I could write? But then another voice reminded me I had been writing every day for most of my life, and I could surely let it be a short story. So, I began. That was October 2016.

By January 2017 I had 18,000 words, and I was nowhere near finishing. I did some research. Novels start at 40,000 words, epics at 90,000.

I hit 40,000 words, and I decided to tell someone what I was doing. I told my husband.  Then I hit 60,000. A scene turned into a story. A story became a world. And a book was born.

By August 21, 2017 I had put the last sentence in novel that peaked over the top of 110,000 words. It was an incredible vista to stand upon, and on the horizon, I saw the tops of two more mountains. This book would be a trilogy.

It took over 14 years, but I finally figured out that a corporate job was never going to be a satisfying endeavor. Counseling, running and writing helped me get there. Fortunately, I have the support of a fantastic husband. I shudder to think of what it would be like if I didn't.

Here I am in 2018, resolved to see this book through to its full evolution. I have a first draft and am in the editing process. Meanwhile, I have started the next book, that sweet middle child. I have taken more steps to grow as a writer. Last year I joined a local writing group. Those writing friends were the first to hear some of my work. It was terrifying and exposing, and they were incredibly kind and encouraging. From time to time I write communion devotions for my church. With the encouragement of a dear writer friend, I applied and was accepted into a national writing group, The Redbud Writers Guild. Check them out! After some hemming and hawing all last year, I have decided to transition this space as a landing spot for ideas and meanderings of my mind. As before, I plan to keep it positive, loving, creative and encouraging. And honest. Always, even if it hurts, honest.

A handful of years ago, I had no idea I would be where I am now. In that vein, I have no idea what the future holds. I suppose this little digital time capsule will be useful for capturing the journey should any future selves want to look back and remember. In the meantime, welcome to the new Form & Function.



Sunday, January 3, 2016

The Year of Acceptance

I have been thinking a lot about what I would do with this little corner of the internet. I found this post from January of 2016 today, and I really liked it. The year of acceptance turned into one year of acceptance, and one year of radical self-acceptance. I'm looking forward to what 2018 has in store for me, and for this little blog...

The holidays are over and I am both relieved and a little sad.  I love the holidays and we have enjoyed this Christmas but I am relieved to be on the other side of the spending mania and media bombardment of what the holidays are supposed to look like.

Now that they are over and I am in their wake, I am reflecting on where I want to go this year, what I am supposed to focus on.  The idea of acceptance has been surfacing again and again since I ran my first marathon in November.  I have prayed about it, journaled about it, talked to mentors and friends about it and I am convinced that 2016 is the year of acceptance.  Acceptance, along with forgiveness, is the last stage of the grief process.  It is a powerful stage full of freedom.  This year I will move toward acceptance in many aspects of my life and I am fully looking forward to the journey.

I got my daughter a Ripstick for Christmas.  This is like a skateboard with 2 wheels instead of 4.  It is deceptively difficult to get the hang of it, but I decided to give it a try.

Part of learning something new, of acquiring a new skill, moving into a new emotional space, growing is accepting where you are in the process.  I lost count of how many times I have fallen down but I tried to stay patient with myself, accept myself for where I was and keep trying.



And I've picked it up.  Maybe not as well as my 8 year old but not too bad for an "old" lady.  It's fun: to learn something new, to prove that I can still learn new things, hard things, physical things.

That's a good start to this year.