One for each little Yoda.
REMEMBER
It may have begun somewhere in the late 1960s or early 1970s. We were winding down a seemingly endless war in Viet Nam. Women fought for equal rights. Segregation was still an issue. We had a national scandal which caused a president of the United States to resign. The comedians of the day were Phyllis Diller and Don Rickles who spent their monologues ragging on everyone. Movies now had “R” ratings. The sexual revolution was well underway. It seemed that the days of “Father Knows Best” were over and replaced with dysfunctional families with dads like Archie Bunker.
Folks became numbed with illicit drugs. The three martini lunch was the menu of the day to cinch a deal. Space exploration was still in the news, but now people were becoming more concerned about the state of our own planet and focusing on ways they could control things like climate change.
Somehow the basics of religion were tossed aside in favor of self-reliance. The Ten Commandments became outdated. The Bible was just a book of myths and stories. In fifty years, this would lead to a nation who no longer felt the need to go to church – a population that didn’t trust government officials – a land where family was a thing of the past – a country that no longer put their trust in God.
A nation united by years of struggle and war was showing signs of decline and a slow but sure death.
As we approach Memorial Day, we need to get a handle on what this country was founded on – Judeo/Christian principals, strong work ethic, the sanctity of marriage and family, the opportunity for anyone to succeed. We have truly been blessed to live here, but we cannot forget our history. It’s the story of who we are and how we came to this place in time. Good or bad, we learn from the past.
Blood was shed, lives lost and families made the ultimate sacrifice to defend the values that were set down by our forefathers. Memorial means remembering. Let’s never forget the price paid for our freedom.
THE FRAGILITY OF LIFE
A normal day in the life of me, usually consists of writing my daily blog at 6 AM. A few household chores follow. Yesterday I ventured out to do my weekly grocery shopping, which has become less than a fun task. Moving at my age has become less than fun. In the afternoon, Paul and I planted some flowers and laid some mulch in our backyard. By the time we finished, it was 3 PM and time to retrieve our granddaughter for a short visit. She would have supper with us and then be off to do some volunteer work with special needs kids.
I love being with this lovely sixteen year old who once referred to me as her favorite grandma – on her mother’s side. There are times, as with any sixteen year old, that those times aren’t so lovely, but that’s a whole different topic. As we sat down to dinner, the news was reporting an abortion ban protest taking place in our city. This sparked a conversation on the topic of that very thing. Our granddaughter goes to a secular high school and is exposed to both sides of the abortion coin. We discussed the fact that a woman had a right to make a decision about her own body, but also hers wasn’t the only body to consider. This young lady is very strong willed and I’m glad she is. It’s tough having opinions that conflict with your peers when you’re a teen. She truly believes in the right to life.
Shortly after dinner, we learned that a mutual friend was experiencing the trauma of having their granddad airlifted from a car accident with life threatening injuries.
It was nearing 7 PM and the effects of our gardening were wearing on Paul and my aging bodies. Aches and pains were settling in, as seems to be the norm these days.
This morning, friend Julie is on her way to be with her newborn grandson who was rushed to hospital with a high fever.
All of these incidents, occurring in just a matter of hours, has me thinking about how very fragile our lives are. Life is so short when you think about it. We take each day as it comes, but we rarely think about what difficulty we might face. For the Christian, we know that life never ends. Our death is merely the beginning of a perfect life. Still while we inhabit the earth, we struggle, we hurt, we get sad, we try and sometimes succeed while other times we fail and beat ourselves up.
Every day should be treasured, not because it’s a time to do things right, but because it’s a time of grace allowing us to share God’s love with others. In living our lives to that end, we’re doing what God wants us to do.
If you aren’t making use of every day, you’re losing massive amounts of opportunities. You’re simply existing. You’re just going through the motions. Starting today, think of each day as the first day of the rest of your life. Be ready to accept what is thrown at you and turn it into something beneficial for someone. God made each one of us with unique and wonderful talents and gifts. Our lifetime is designed for us to use each of those gifts for the benefit of others.
Thankfully, our God is in the midst of each day. He’s there to pull us through to pull up our boot straps, to push us forward and to stand beside us all the way. When we can no longer stand, He will carry us.
SURRENDER
When we think about the word “surrender” we naturally assume a sort of giving up – giving in – acceptance. When the white flag of surrender went up at Yorktown, it signaled the ending of the American Revolution. Almost a hundred years later the American Civil War came to an end as Generals Lee and Grant shook hands. I watched the last episode of the PBS series, “Les Miserables,” Victor Hugo’s tale of the beginnings of the French Revolution. The same thing occurred to Jean Val Jean and his nemesis as they both eventually surrendered to death.
I recently began reading a book – “The 21 – A Journey into the Land of Coptic Martyrs,” by Martin Mosebach. It refers to the mass execution of 21 Christians by ISIS on February 15, 2015. The book is published by Plough Publishing House. The event was video taped for the world to view. All of these elements point to one thing – surrender. The background on each individual killed that day is chronicled. We see how this inborn willingness to die for what they believed was instilled at a very early age.
As I think about this I wonder if I would have the strength, the courage, the willingness to give up my life – my all – to defend my faith. How about you? It’s easy to say we would die for such a cause, but to actually do so might be a different story. Jesus told His followers and us today, to take up our cross and follow Him. That is the first step to surrendering completely to God.
Our crosses in life can include things like broken relationships, depression and anxiety, fear of failure, lack of self confidence, inability to face the every day problems of life. We can be paralyzed by grief, lack of self control, desire, addiction and all things which weigh heavily on us – like the burden of an old rugged cross.
For Jesus, the cross included all the sin of mankind from the beginning until the end of humanity. He gave up His throne in heaven to carry that burden to His death. Shouldn’t we also be willing to die for Him? We know the outcome. He was resurrected on the third day and lives and reigns in all eternity. We have the same promise for our life after death.
Still, I can’t help but wonder, if push came to shove, would I be able to put my life on the line for my Jesus? As I discussed this with a friend the other day, she gave me some great insight. All of our suffering, whether physical, mental, spiritual is for just a short time. In the end there will be joy. That little while can be a few minutes or a lifetime.
1 Peter 5:10 says, “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” I would guess that the outcome would far outweigh the little while of suffering. We have the assurance that life doesn’t end at death.
Surrender doesn’t have to mean giving up. It can also mean letting go and allowing God to do what He has already planned for us.
AND HE DIED
Methuselah was an old, old man when God finally took him to heaven. For 969 years he stumbled around the planet. He raised a family, saw them grow into adults, had grandchildren and great grandchildren.
And then he died.
So what did this man accomplish in that time? We often look at a normal lifetime as between 70-80 years. We try to cram as much as possible into that short span. We attempt to make a name for ourselves, provide for our families, leave some kind of legacy.
And then we die.
Noah was 600 years old when he finished building the ark. Everyone thought he was a crazy man. They laughed at his project. They laughed when he talked about rain which would engulf the earth. They had never even experienced rain. They watched as he an his sons worked away on this giant ship which was to house two of every kind of living thing and all they could do was make fun of the old boy and wonder. Then the rain came.
And they died.
How much do you plan to pack into your lifetime? I’m getting close to the end of the line and I sometimes think I’m going to be the next one to kick the bucket, but I know that God has work yet for me to do. That being said, I also don’t know when He intends to end my life, so the work continues.
And then I’ll die.
But I will rise again!
SUNDAY MORNING
ORIGINALLY POSTED 06/17/2015
God set this day aside as a time to rest. He had a pretty busy week prior to the final day of creating the world, the universe, every living thing. He established night and day and placed all the stars, planets and constellations in the heavens. He divided the land from the sea and carved majestic landscapes, gardens and flourishing plant life within them. Then He created man in His own image and gave him a lifetime companion from the man’s rib.
For most of us, we’re lucky to get through a 40 hour work week, take care of household duties, make meals and spend time with family. We often complain when we have to put in overtime hours. Some of us can’t stay awake much past nine o’clock. When Sunday’s roll around, we’re ready for some rest.
If you really want to find some quiet time – a time to connect with the King of creation – spend an hour or so in His house. He’s waiting for you in His holy sacraments. He speaks to you through the Bible. The beautiful music, the glorious sanctuary, all the trappings of a church enhance the experience, but the truth is this is a time reserved just for you to be with God.
Why not try it? Once you make up your mind to give God that early Sunday morning time, you will find true rest. The coming week will take on new meaning. You can face it with the confidence that God lives in you, through His Holy Spirit.
MY WRITING JOURNAL
I am learning a lot about myself through this writing process. I’ve discovered that I’m very goal oriented when I put my mind to it. I’m also realizing that some of the things I write are totally off the wall and out of character for me. Is that normal?
This week I took someone’s suggestion and let the novel lay for a while. For three months I’ve been at it every day. It consumed a greater part of my time, which was OK, because at the moment I have a lot of that commodity. Soon things will pick up again as rehearsals begin next week for a show I’m performing in July. During this time of letting things rest temporarily, I’ve been exploring different possibilities for publishing my masterpiece. I have received a few suggestions on that, but seem to get more and more confused as to what’s best.
I’m sure every writer is convinced that their work is great. I’m not there yet. I have been through the book so many times, that I often forget where I am and lose chunks of time and chronological order. That’s another reason I had to set myself apart from it for a while. In the meantime, I’ve sent the manuscript to my sister in Tennessee. She will give me her honest opinion, I hope. One reason for sending it to her was to make sure I didn’t lose it again. She is the only one I trust to read it at the moment, because she also has encouraged me to follow this path all my life.
There is a feeling of accomplishment with each step of the writing journey. The final goal is to get it into print so people can read it. I try not to get hung up on grammar and all its rules. I try to write dialogue as it would be spoken. Yet there are so many things I’m probably doing wrong, but maybe doing it wrong isn’t wrong at all.
I have a group of friends I meet each week and they’ve done a tremendous amount of encouraging. They are my powerhouse of motivation. That and the fact that I’d really like to succeed at this writing stuff. So stay tuned. Please feel free to share your own journey. I need all the help I can get.
WHO DO YOU TRUST?
In the late 1950’s a television show hosted by Edgar Bergan, the ventriloquist, made its debut. After a few months a young Johnny Carson took over the job. The show was designed to pit three married couples against each other as contestants. Each of the couples had unusual occupations or interests. The show was originally called “Do You Trust Your Wife?” The emcee for the program was Ed McMahon. The working relationship between Carson and McMahon would go on for the remainder of their careers.
Trust is a huge word, that is much too often flung around carelessly. Phrases like, “You can trust us to get the job done,” or “Trust me,” or Why don’t you trust me?” are spoken daily. We’re often told to trust our own judgment – trust our instincts – trust someone completely – place our total confidence in another because we trust them. Our government wants us to trust them with our health care, our education, our laws, our military, our every day cares and many of us have lost trust in that same government.
So who do you trust? Even in our personal relationships trust can be crushed or totally eliminated by one word, one thought, one false move. When I was teaching theatre classes, it was extremely important to build trust within the acting ensemble. We did so with various “trust” games. One person would lead a group of blindfolded followers. The leader had to maintain that sense of trust to the others, so they would follow knowing they would not be led into danger. Another would require one person to stand in front of the other and without looking back, fall backwards into the waiting arms of the other. Once the circle of trust is broken, it’s almost impossible to repair. These same games are used by corporations to build a tight network within their organizations.
We go through life believing in things, in people, in philosophies, in religion, in the tangible and intangible. We were created to help one another, but once sin took over, that was shattered as well. The bond that once was solid is now crumbled like a piece of paper that has lost its value. We feel useless, helpless, bullied and unimportant.
So who can we trust? The world’s religions have become diluted to suit the needs and desires of the flesh. Relationships don’t always last, because people don’t seem interested in working at them. Respect for life on both ends of the spectrum has become a joke. Socialism has become the soup du jour. All of these things and more have been slowly disintegrating our values over the years.
When things get so out of control there’s only One we can trust completely. He never changes. He’s consistent to the end. He loves unconditionally. We can believe fully in what He’s done and will do in our lives. He won’t give up on us, even when we turn on Him. He won’t disappoint, discourage, destroy. He has always been there and always will be when we ask for His intercession. I wouldn’t have a problem falling backwards into His arms, because I know He will always catch me.
HOW SHALL WE WASTE A DAY?
I gave up ranting for Lent this year, thus I’ve tried staying away from the news, talk radio and anything that stirs me up. Our country has been on a rant for almost two years now. It’s divided our nation. It’s turned friend against friend, relative against relative. It has shown us the foolishness of man and the idiocy of our current congress. My reason for giving up ranting is that it gives me a headache to even think about the nonsense going on in Washington.
In the past decade or more, we’ve seen a rise in reality shows. People seem to enjoy watching others fail. They enjoy feeling superior because of it. The thing about these shows is they are far from real. If they were true reality, I would expect that my life is absolutely boring, uneventful and pointless. Somehow that thinking has trickled into our lifestyle – our way of thinking about each other – our selfishness – our government. Mark Twain always had a lot to say about the Congress so I don’t imagine things have changed much over time.
What we’re seeing in Washington today, bears no resemblance to sanity. It has become a circus, a sideshow, a playground sandbox where little ones have more sense than the adults. Today, an astute body of Democrats will spend twelve hours reading the Mueller Report aloud. Isn’t that special? Is that all these people have to do? Aren’t there laws to pass, remove, change? Isn’t there the business of the people to attend to? It seems the only one getting anything done in Washington is our president.
This investigation has been ongoing for what seems like forever. It finally came to an end, but that wasn’t good enough for our esteemed democrats. Taking the attention away from real issues seems to be their forte. This has to stop. I’m ashamed at what’s going on in our nation. We have become a laughing stock. The reality of the work that needs to get done has been obliterated by name calling, back biting, scandal after scandal and investigation after investigation. It’s time for them to do the jobs they were elected to do.
There! I’m done for now. Now what’s all this I hear about violins on TV? Just call me an old lady with a lot to get off her chest and a raging rant that had to explode. Now I need an aspirin.
CATCH OF THE DAY
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
Hugging the shoreline with anchor full stay,
Watching the sunrise on this perfect day,
Reflections of light dance wildly around,
Slapping the water not making a sound.
You throw in your line, you sit there and wait,
You’ve planned out your day, you’ve plenty of bait,
The weather is perfect the sky so blue,
No clouds up above, to obstruct the view.
You look and listen, for some little sign,
For a pull or tug on your fishing line,
At last it happens, your bobber sinks down,
The upside down smile – no longer a frown.
Your reel now spinning, you grab for a net,
You know a huge fish is getting you wet,
You think of it filling your frying pan,
You’ve truly become a real fisherman.
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ACT YOUR AGE
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” C. S. Lewis
Wouldn’t it be nice if we never had to age – if we could remain children forever – if we never had to experience all the aches and pains that grown ups do? Wouldn’t it be grand if all our worldly needs were take care of by someone else – we had no responsibility – we could simply play all day and do the things we wanted to do?
I’ve often thought of myself as the proverbial child. The thought of growing old was never appealing. Doing childish things wasn’t a choice, it was an obligation. In so doing, I never really did grow up. I try finding the joy in the silly things. I stand tall even when my weary frame is folding and shrinking. I put on a happy face when my heart is full of tears. A Pollyanna sort of philosophy, I guess. However, aging is truly over-rated.
I was reminded of that yesterday as I had the opportunity to sit in on a rehearsal of young actors. When I revealed my age, there were sighs of wonder and amazement. How did I live this long? How could I still be moving on my own effort? It got me thinking about how much I need the energy of young people to keep me energized.
When we reach these elder years of life, it’s easy to sit in a recliner and watch the world slip into oblivion. The road less traveled becomes appealing. The quiet moments and times of solitude are fine for a while, but then what? More quiet moments, leading to more inactivity, resulting in lack of enthusiasm and zest for living.
It’s easy to see a pattern within my life. I don’t consider myself to be a workaholic, but I am not one to shirk work either. I’ve discovered over time that I cannot not work. I was raised with a strong work ethic. I’ve discovered through raising a family, that I’m not the important one in my life and that doesn’t bother me. I love seeing others flourish and grow. If I can be an element in that growth, I’ve gained more than they have.
God gives each of us gifts to use throughout our lives – even when we feel we may no longer serve a purpose – even when our bones creak, our voices crack, our skin wrinkles and most of our bulk is now hanging down around the waist and hips. As long as we have life – as long as breath is surging through our nostrils – as long as God allows us time on this planet – we have a job to do.
We don’t have to grow up. Life can be a blast if we allow it to be, or it can become drudgery if we let it. When we think that way, we need to start thinking like children again.
HAUNTING
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
A ship through swirly water glides, no rest upon its deck,
For this old craft of yesteryear is nothing but a wreck,
Its crew has long since passed away, its captain is gone too,
So all alone it sails the sea, over the waters blue.
This once pristine and mighty boat, was master of the sea,
But now there’s no one to sail her, a pirate ship was she,
She raided the ships around her, kidnapped and plundered too,
Still no one comes to rescue her, she’s met her Waterloo.
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SO, THIS IS HAPPENING AGAIN
Last October, I embarked on an old career. I stepped on the stage to perform again. The play was, “Southern Fried Funeral,” in which I portrayed Ozella Meeks, the church lady who tended to all the funeral arrangements. I guess you could say I was typecast, since everyone knows I’m a church lady. It was a true challenge to myself to see if I still had the ability to memorize lines and bring a character to life.
As you see in the photograph, I was the recipient of a pie in the face at the end of each performance. Let me tell you, this is something that has to be choreographed as precisely as a fight scene. At first I tried to defend myself and the pie went in all directions. As I anticipated getting that slippery confection, it took a lot of restraint to just let it hit me without looking like I was expecting it.
Well, the same theatre which produced this show last year discovered that there’s a sequel called, “Southern Fried Nuptials.” It was decided to put this on the docket for July of this year, so this is how I’ll be spending my summer evenings from now on. Most all of the original cast will be on hand to create more laughter. This time, there are no flying pie missiles, but who knows.
As I embark on this adventure again, I am again plagued with self doubt. I’ll be 77 years old in a month. I tire out when I take more than twenty steps. My memory has taken a big dive in the past six months. Last time, I kept rewriting my lines and delivered them in my own words. Who knows what will happen this time? Thank goodness I have a director with lots of patience.
So here I go again. There’s no stopping me. I wonder if there’s room for performers in heaven?
I’M SORRY
There are times when the phrase, “I’m sorry” is just a phrase of empty insincere words. The words mean nothing, because they’re said out of obligation. Being truly contrite means that we know we’ve done something wrong and feel guilt over it. Because of the shame we feel, we ask for forgiveness. Sometimes we receive it – other times our repentance is ignored. As I mentioned the other day, we often spew words that have no real value. We say them because we feel obliged to do so. We put a sad face emoji on an email and expect everything to be fine.
The way we react to another’s sadness over something that made us unhappy – the hurt we feel when attacked by another’s tongue – the depths of despair when someone wrongly accuses us – shows how very human we are.
God, on the other hand, can’t wait for our repentance. It seems such a small thing, but when we sincerely ask for forgiveness, He is overjoyed. It makes me wonder why we’re so afraid to ask forgiveness from one another. Maybe because we know that our fellow man doesn’t possess that unconditional love required to forgive. Maybe we fear being rejected. Maybe we simply don’t like to admit we’ve done something wrong.
What does God say about repentance? He expects it. In order for us to receive all the benefits of His kingdom, we must come before Him with contrite hearts – begging for forgiveness – truly regretting our ability to keep His commandments – but also fully confident that He has given us a way out of that dilemma. He sent His only Son to be our Rescuer – our Champion – the One whose body was slain for our salvation.
When we forgive another person, it frees us from anger, hatred and a whole assortment of emotions, When God forgives us – we are the ones we no longer carry the weight of sin. He gives us that freedom without cost. He gives it because we say we’re sorry.
God I know that I’ve fallen short of your commandments. I also know that your love for me is limitless. You ask only one thing of me – my sincere repentance. I’m sorry for not placing my complete trust in You. I can’t even begin to say all the things I’m sorry for, but I know that your have invited me to lay my sins on Jesus and that through Him I will receive your forgiveness. Help me always to follow His example in my life and though I am free, allow me to be a servant for your name’s sake. Amen!
BREATHLESS
I suffer from asthma and many other breathing disorders. As my life progresses, each breath I take becomes harder. I find myself getting short of breath after just a small amount of exertion. When I need to use my inhaler I’m usually gasping for air. It’s a feeling of helplessness that I can’t really explain. Once I’ve breathed in the medicine, my symptoms usually subside and my breath returns.
Do you ever feel like you’re suffocating under the pressure of every day living? The weight of getting through it all can be oppressive. When our breath is taken away and our airway seems to have tightly closed, we become helpless, out of control and fearful.
There are obstacles that seem to close in on us. We walk the walk, follow the rules, stay on the righteous path, yet there are still problems. We get an overdue bill. Our relationships are a mess. We can’t’ seem to muster up the energy to get through a normal day. We get a bad report from the doc. We hear of friends who are ill and passing away. Gloom and doom surrounds us. At times it feels like we can’t breathe. There are no instant cures for momenta like that. Sucking in some oxygen or taking a pill is not going to resuscitate you. What we all need at that moment, is the life giving breath that only God provides.
His Holy Word is filled with remedies for every malady. He has erased the sin from our sick souls. He has redeemed us by is precious blood. We have the confidence that these old bodies will be renewed when we reach heaven. We are more than special to Him, because He laid down His life for us. If God loves us that much, we need to start having a better opinion of ourselves.
We can be crushed by the problems or we can push them aside with the power of God. Alone we will feel breathless, overtaken and hopeless, but with Him at our side, we can conquer anything that comes our way. He is our lifeline and the things we face today will be gone in just a little while.
BREAK OF DAY
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
Within the mountain’s early dawn, His majesty is seen,
The skies fill up with brilliance, and glorious golden sheen,
His breath is seen in morning mist, His voice through eagles’ song,
His power displays in sunlit rays, He shines the whole day long,
His love for us unspoken, but seen in every rock,
He leads us like a shepherd protects his wandering flock,
I am so weak and fragile, like many a stubborn sheep,
My trust oft wanes, my fears o’er take, I toss through dream filled sleep,
My tears won’t stop, my faith grows weak, I stumble all the way,
But He’s right there, surrounding me, protecting me each day,
I’ll never grow to understand His unconditional love,
But thank Him that He grants it from His throne high up above,
My God, you are my fortress, my strength when I am weak,
You carry me through deserts, you lead me when you speak,
Through pastures green and waters clean, fulfilling every need,
You fill my heart with gratitude, my soul your Word does feed.
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HOW ARE YOU?
When you get to be my age, this is a question you usually don’t ask much anymore. If you’re asked the question, expect a long drawn out answer which you had no intention or the hours required to hear.
In the world today, we can post an emoji to show how we feel, without going into a lot of detail. Sometimes those emoji tell it all and it takes no time to spill your true feelings. You may have a plethora of emoji which indicate a true state of confusion. However, we are not a people of little, yellow, round faces with various emotions pasted on them. At least not yet.
Getting older, as I and most of my friends are, when asked, “how are you doing?” the answers can be as simple as, “I’m still horizontal,” or “Still standing.” They can be as witty as “At least I’m above ground.” If you’re told, “It’s good to see you,” you can always respond with, “It’s better to be seen than viewed.”
Enough of the silly comebacks. If we were to really tell someone how we feel, we would need more than a few hours to describe everything that’s going on in our lives. Most of the time, we’re afraid to ask for that very reason. No one really wants to know how you’re doing.
When this phrase was first spoken, it must’ve been in all sincerity. The person asking would wait for a response, perhaps because the person had been in poor health before their meeting. I assume as time went by and people got tired of enduring the long answers, it just developed into a catch phrase and eventually wound up becoming the slang, “How ya doin’,” which is more like a simple greeting today.
These words have gone by the wayside and seem almost uncaring and meaningless. The same can be true of the phrase, “I’ll pray for you.” How often have you said that as a catch phrase or cop out for someone who is going through difficulty? How many times have you sincerely prayed for that person? How many have stopped what they were doing to actually pray with that person?
When we throw words around, they should have something solid to support behind them. In all our prayers and petitions, we should be sincere and honest with those we are praying for, otherwise it becomes another meaningless set of words.
Prayer is our communication with God. This has been granted to us by the work Jesus did and what the Holy Spirit continues to do within us. This gift is our way to go directly to the source with all our needs and cares. We need to mean it when we say, “I’m praying for you.”
“And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words.” Matthew 6:7
MY WRITING JOURNEY
With all the fiction in the political scene, it probably would be more lucrative to put your writing skills into that market.
I’ve finished my mandatory 60,000+ plus words. I’m adding a few more as I begin the editing process. You can’t imagine my excitement as I saw the word count hit that mark. It was liking watching the odometer on your car turning to 100,000 miles. There’s a feeling of accomplishment. There’s a certain amount of pride for reaching the goal. There’s the anticipation of what comes next – fear of rejection and hope that people will love your work as much as you.
That fear of rejection has always been my nemesis. I’ve written countless short stories, plays, poems, screen plays, blog posts and always come to that final pinnacle. the time actually submitting my work. I can’t push myself beyond wanting to get it done. I know that the hardest door to open is my own, but still fear the entire process. Maybe it goes back to my eighth grade teacher’s discouraging words about my writing. As I look back now, it could have deterred me from ever writing again, but it actually acted as an impetus to go on. Even though there were a couple of wasted years because of it. After many tears, self inflicted feelings of inferiority and lack of courage, I continued to write because I felt I had to.
I still wonder about self-publishing. Is this the best way to market your work? I’d like some feedback on that. I self-published my biography a few years ago, but that was mainly for the benefit of my family and its history. There is money involved in self-publishing as well. When you’re a starving artist and married to one to boot, money is tight.
There are many of you out there in Blogsville who know a lot more about this process than I do. I’d appreciate any help I can get. In the meantime, I will continue the editing process and let you know how it’s coming.
atimetoshare.me 