Sometimes I get so caught up in being the best at something I lose my focus on what’s really important. Of course, being the Type A that I am, I’m usually killing myself striving to be the best at everything. And it’s here that I get into trouble.
Striving to be my own personal best and striving to be the best is the difference between the scenic journey of healthy living and the fast lane to insanity.
When I’ve accomplished something in my writing career, I find I want to be better. After all, J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, Patricia Cornwell and J. R. R. Tolkien have all topped the lists, so why shouldn’t I be able to?
When I’m doing my day job well, I find myself thinking of those who make millions at their job and wonder why I’m not able to be that successful. (Think Oprah Winfrey, Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg.)
When I see other blogs that have thousands of followers to my 354, I doubt my ability to be “good enough.”
And on and on and on…and thus begins the proverbial squirrel cage thinking, the squirrel being fed from comparing myself to others.
Gratitude, pure and simple, is the answer to putting the squirrel to rest.
Gratitude that I’ve accomplished something that I love to do so much, appreciating that I’ve been blessed with a talent that breathes life into me.
Gratitude for having a day job with work that I enjoy, and pay that allows to me live comfortably, while experiencing satisfaction at being able to make a positive difference to victims of crime at a time when their entire world has been turned upside down and inside out.
Gratitude for each and every person who my blog has touched, each one individually. As long as I’ve been writing, which has been since the age of four when I wrote “words” on the living room wall with crayon :), my goal has never been to make millions, but to make a difference. If even to just one.
Every life touched, every one, matters.
In the words of Spock, played by the late, great Leonard Nimoy (may he RIP):
“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” — Spock, Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan
But may we never forget the needs of one for the needs of the few or the many.
Tropical fish and the Greek alphabet aren’t the only categories that include betas. “What else?” you ask… beta readers, of course!
As writers, we need to enlist the help of beta readers to identify any potential problems before we unleash our story on the world. For the months that we spend writing, we hear from others just how creative we are and what a cool idea our current work is progress is. But when we ask for beta readers, we hear crickets.
Oftentimes, people really don’t have the time to commit to reading a book. But for many people, I believe the reason they don’t volunteer is because they have no clue what is expected of them. So for those people, I give you, this post.
A beta reader is essentially a test pilot (or unfortunately sometimes a crash dummy). As a beta reader, you are not expected to be…
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The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,100 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.
An entertaining writing lesson. 🙂
Writers, you have got to watch this! Normally I am not a fan of Al’s (at all!), but this definitely kept my attention… and made me laugh. Trust me. The less than four minute investment will be worth it.
Time to talk: Are you guilty of any of the crimes depicted in this video? Which do you appreciate more: the lyrics or the graphic art that went into the making of this video? Do you like anything by Al?
As I prepare to take on the whirlwind joy ride of NaNoWriMo Friday at midnight, I’m finding joy in taking deep breaths of relaxation this week.
Beautiful and poignant. Michelle certainly has way with words.
We’re down here searching the night sky for your star.
I say we.
I know I’m not alone in this.
Do you hear our eyes asking? Is it this one? That one?
Do you see our faces confused and wondering?
Can you hear the hope in our pounding hearts?
I pick one and make a wish on light that left the source a million years before breath filled my lungs.
What else is there to do but wait another million years to stop searching? To stop wishing against reality?
In a world of endless sequels and reruns, accepting that a story has ended is nearly impossible.
So we tell your story as best we remember it,
And we look for stars.