Ten Inspirations

What inspires me today?

1. Thinking of the awesome people in my life.

2. Getting emails from my readers.

3. Reading inspirational quotes as I look for a quote for this post.

4. Creating my own inspirational quote. 😉

5. Letting inspiration flow through me while planning a new story.

6. Getting feedback from a first draft that will make my story better.

7. Walking with my old dog in the rain.

8. Daydreaming of my next travel adventure.

9. Anticipating the class I am starting tomorrow.

10. Getting a blog post up.

 

Where Did All The Losers Go?

Confession: I personally identified with the label “loser” for the vast majority of my life. It started when I was young, and didn’t relent even after I had success as a writer. Even with millions of copies of my novels printed, translated into other languages, and published by different publishers, I still considered myself to personally be a loser: my writing was successful, not me. It’s crazy the ways we can manipulate our thinking to stay in our current identity, or the way I do, anyway. I guess I can’t speak for anyone else, though honestly, I think most of us do the same.

So now that I’ve confessed that I had an extremely large negative ego, I am also going to confess that at my extreme core, I didn’t believe I was a loser. I felt connected, valuable, and even cherished. Unfortunately, I didn’t believe that inner voice as much as I believed what I picked up from others, and then adopted as my self-image. Not their bad… or mine for that matter. Though it was my choice to believe outside influences or not, I didn’t have the maturity or confidence back then to choose differently.

It’s been a long road from that mindset, with many hard experiences and difficult realizations that have changed me irrevocably. To write them all would be a book or two. However, I do want to share an inspiration about loserishness that I received a couple of months ago like a bolt from the blue.

There are no losers. They do not exist. Therefore, I can’t be one, and neither can anyone else.

Since that realization, I’ve been thinking about it, trying to understand and discover the why of it, and this is what I’ve come up with:

First, my definition of loser: Losers are found at the bottom of the “heap” and are those who display the opposite of a trait, characteristic, or image of value. The winners are at the top, and they personify the desired quality. Most people are somewhere in the middle. I think that’s a pretty common definition.

But what is the “heap”?

Rich/poor? Wise/foolish? Famous/obscure? Intelligent/slow? Kind/cruel? Is it based on political leaning, race, gender, sexual orientation?

The possible combinations are in the hundreds at the very least. And here is why losers don’t exist: no one is at the top of all the heaps, no one is at the bottom of everyone.

You may be thinking (as I did) that some heaps are more important than others. That brings up more questions… Who can arrange the heaps according to importance? Who has the wisdom and smarts and knowledge to judge the ranking of every trait and characteristic with complete accuracy?

Not me. Not anyone I know. What’s more, even if an all-knowing intelligence accurately labelled the most important heaps for us, few would accept the labels. The reason? We choose labels that reflect our own world view and experience. Each of us decides which are the most important heaps to us.

And this is hugely revealing – not revealing of those we position within our important heaps, but revealing of ourselves. The heaps we chose as our most important say more about us than about the people we categorize.

So, to sum up: Losers don’t truly exist, because we are all at the bottom, we are all at the top, we are all in the middle, of literally hundreds, if not thousands, of heaps, and the only judge of which heaps are important, is our own limited world view and experience. Even further, if we pay attention to who we label winners or losers, we have a clear window into the value system closest to our hearts.

Of course, you’ve probably noticed there’s another way to see this. Instead of saying losers don’t exist, you can insist that they do – and then we’re all losers. Either way, the result is the same: everyone is in the same boat.

If I could go back in time and tell myself something, it would be this: “Lighten up. Yeah, you suck, but you also rule, just like everyone else.” And going forward from here? It seems a whole new world.

You’re Invited Aboard My New Venture!

I’ve been writing juvenile novels for more than 15 years, while making occasional forays into non-fiction, literary works (short stories, postcard stories, and poetry), and magazine articles. Now I want to turn my hand to writing humorous adventure novels for adults and family friendly and comedy/adventure screenplays.

To do that, I need time – and you can give me that time. How, you wonder? By commiting $1 or more a month on my Patreon page.

In return, I hope to entertain you, to give you freebies, to send you autographed copies of my books, or if you have stories in you that are yearning to get out, I want to help you make them real!

If you’re hesitating because you don’t know the quality of my work, check out my two free e-books online: Winter of the Crystal Dances and Dark Fire. They’re both juvenile fiction, but they’ll give you an idea of why I’ve been called “one of the best writers of modern pony books around.” I strongly believe I can do the same in my two new genres.

I hope you believe the same and will join me on this journey!

Many thanks to those who have already come aboard! You’re my heroes!

The Foundation of Success

I had a new blog post all written and ready to post, and then I came across this video. It’s only 10 minutes long, and I recommend it to anyone who wants success for themselves or their children. Yes, it’s that important!

Enjoy!

Crowd of Awesomeness

crowdI’m not complaining. Keep that in mind as you read this. It’s just I have too many ideas for books, movies, articles, and more, and choosing which to work on seems almost impossible some days.

Though it doesn’t seem like a curse, this is the bane of many writers: too many beautiful, compelling stories shouting out how engaging they are, how clever, how they’re the most fun, most striking, most worthy to be put into physical form. At this very moment, I have eight solid ideas in my head – five screenplays, a novella that may turn into a series, and two non-fiction books – and that doesn’t include the blog posts, short stories, poems, or memoir pieces that are malingering in my head or on my computer in various states of completion.

Out of sheer necessity, I’ve developed different ways to chose one story from my crowd of awesomeness to work on.

To begin with, I follow my passion and work on the project that calls the loudest. The problem with this can be that one project may be deafening on Day One, another on Day Two, another on Day Three – which means I have to practice crowd control. These are my crowd control tools:

Ask myself: which project is my top priority in relation to my long, or sometimes short, term goals? Short term trumps long term only if it’s a firm commitment, like a deadline. Why does long term usually have priority over short term? If a short term goal doesn’t support the long term goal, it shouldn’t be there to begin with.

Ask my writer support group what they think. The right writer support group is a profound resource. Hint for Success: If you don’t have one, get one. Then ask them.

Ask a writing mentor friend, someone who has been there and done that. If I don’t have a writing mentor friend in the discipline I need, I hire one, and talk to them about what project might have the most potential. And I really listen, even if it hurts. Note: it usually hurts.

Work on more than one project at a time. I can do two in a day, and sometimes three, with a couple hours on each project. Sometimes, to keep my brain from completely frying, I diversify the form of writing. For example, today I am writing a blog post, editing my current script, outlining my novella, and thinking about a non-fiction book. And though I’m not complaining about the writing related activities, I will complain about the bookkeeping I have to do. Ugh.

There is one more thing that I do, and not just as a last resort, simply because I like it so much. This activity solves all problems, not just this one: walking and talking… but that is an entirely new blog post, one I definitely want to write.

Someday.

When it starts shouting at me.

Star Trek and the Ego

kirk and spockI’ve been thinking a lot about ego lately, and just recently came to some intriguing thoughts. I think ego has been getting a bad rap in some ways. Let me explain:

Ego has an important and even life saving job: to protect us in a sometimes cruel world. In childhood the ego works overtime to build these protections around us, keeping our tender, beautiful selves safe from the harm that a sometimes unkind world may inflict. It does this with little direction from the interior self – because most of us are weak as children, whether that weakness is based on having no cultural power or being in an abusive situation or simply due to our own naiveté in a confusing world. To use a metaphor, the ego builds a structure around us to shelter us, a fortress, a house, or for those who grow up in a kinder environment, maybe a cottage.

Then, when we enter on a spiritual path, whatever that path may be, the ego – which has been doing the best it can to protect us – is suddenly the bad guy. We want to get rid of it, disenfranchise it, diminish it to the level of a barely tolerated pet, if we want it to continue existing at all. We tear down the structures it built around us as fast as we can (though it can take years or even decades), and think of the ego as opposed to soul.

I honestly think that for a while, ego might be opposed to soul. I mean, how would you feel if your lifetime’s work was being torn down by a boss who hasn’t been much of a boss until now. It would suck.

But I believe there comes a time when soul and ego can pretty much look at each other and realize they are stronger together. The ego’s job is to protect, and it can only do that job well under direction of the soul, the higher self, the spark or fire or blazing inferno within.

And where does Star Trek come into it?

Captain Picard and Riker. Captain Janeway and Tuvok. Captain Kirk and Spock.

The Captain and their Number One.

The ego is Riker, or Tuvok, or Spock. The Number One is the one who makes things happen in this world. Without it, the Captain is handicapped. The Captain is the one with the wisdom and vision. Without the Captain’s guidance, the Number One does things that are detrimental in the long, and sometimes short run. They need each other to be the strongest they can both be.

Just a weird thought that I thought I’d share. I’d love to hear what you think of the relationship between Soul and Ego – or whatever labels you use. I’ll use your labels too, if you tell me what they are. 🙂

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I am living this year with the view that ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. What this year may include: adventures in travel, career, personal growth, and more. If you are interested in following my haphazard posts, sign up here. Thank you!

Magic Realism Realized

I knew Gabriel Garcia Marquez was from Colombia, but until I went there, I didn’t realize how his homeland must have influenced his work. They call Colombia the land of magic realism, and it’s very fitting. Colombia is very REAL, and by capitalizing it, I mean more expressive, more colourful, bigger, and louder than the understated colours and culture I’m accustomed to. But it also has an otherworldly magic to it, a surreal energy that is entirely it’s own and very hard to describe – so I’ll describe it with an event.

On the jungle hike, we had a half day to do whatever we wanted. Instead of swimming or accompanying Brad on adventures, I wandered down the Buritaca River and found a big boulder that had been sculpted and smoothed by centuries of river currents. I meditated for a while, then lay back, fitting my body into the boulder’s gentle curves, shut my eyes, and allowed the rush and tumble of the river to carry my thoughts away.

I’m not yellow butterflysure what made me look up but minutes later, I did, just in time to see a flash of butterscotch yellow. A butterfly.

A moment later, a second butterfly, this one creamy yellow. Then another, again yellow, but brighter.

I sat up. Facing upstream, I saw them coming. Not in hordes or flocks or whatever you call masses of butterflies, but one by one, like sparkling yellow jewels, each one precious, each unique, each incredibly luminous in the sunlight as they flew toward me.

Brad’s morning wanderings eventually carried him downstream as well, and we sat on the boulder that was as much art as rock – and we watched dozens, then hundreds of yellow butterflies pass by, letting the updraft from the rushing water carry them along. A butterfly highway.

To this day, when I think back to that morning, the entire world seems just a bit more lovely, a touch more wondrous – but there’s more to the experience than remembering the beauty. When I’m feeling down or going through a difficult situation, and I remember that in the jungle, glowing yellow butterflies fly en mass along a rushing river, it is as if each butterfly picks up a bit of my sadness and stress, and flutters away with it.

Magic realism? Residual magic? I don’t know. But it is REAL, at least to me. And I am infinitely grateful for that experience.

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I am living this year with the view that ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. What this year may include: adventures in travel, career, personal growth, and more. If you are interested in following my haphazard posts, sign up here. Thank you!

The Hazards of Personal Mind Games

Aztec RuinsThere once was a person who wanted to create stories, and so she did. Her first novel was purchased by a publisher who liked it so much they asked for more. Overjoyed, she wrote more novels for them that they also loved. Other publishers in other countries published her books as well and soon she quit her “day job” and became a full time writer. Happy day!

The publishers wanted new books quickly, so she wrote two or three books a year. She developed tricks to manipulate herself into doing the writing required and never missed a deadline for years… for a decade… and then longer.

But what she didn’t realize as she tricked and cajoled and rewarded herself through writing those books (stories that she loved, BTW) was that she was reacting to these manipulations of self the same way she would if anyone else was manipulating her – and because she, the creator, was being used and dominated and treated as less important than what she created, she eventually lost the desire to write.

Yet she couldn’t stop writing. This was now her job. She had contracts. Obligations. Fans.

To ease the pain of sitting down to write every day, and because it was her habit, she continued for a time to try coercing herself out of not liking to write, plus she took on a writing partner to do half the work and to keep her on track. But of course, nothing worked because she wasn’t addressing the core issue.

She decided to work on getting back the joy she once had for writing. It was difficult at first. She started small, like appreciating a certain combination of words she’d written, or enjoying a character in her mind. Baby steps. Next she stopped using the timer and the schedules. If she made the deadline, good. If not, she’d be close enough.

And so it went, step by step, dropping rule after rule, until one day she truly felt the joy again, and with the joy came the realization that the root of her angst was that she didn’t like to be manipulated, even by herself. Maybe even especially by herself. She understood that the creator is more important than the created. She was more important than her novels. Her uniqueness, her individuality and spark were what made it all happen, and that was what she needed to value and cherish and encourage. Only then would she reach her full potential as a creator.

And that, my friends, is why there haven’t been many blog posts lately. However, there is a NEW MOVIE IDEA! I’m sure the joy will return to the blogging again, just as it did this morning, with this little story.

Blessings to you on your own creative journey!

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I am living this year with the view that ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. What this year may include: adventures in travel, career, personal growth, and more. If you are interested in following my haphazard posts, sign up here. Thank you!

ROAD TRIP and FREE BOOKS

Winnies1 FrontCoverSo excited to be off on a new adventure in the morning. I am full of anticipation and dread, a lovely road trip combined with being the only driver for almost 8,000 km. Yikes! But hey, all things are possible, right?

Before I go, I want to do a shout out about my good friend, Ev Bishop, who happens to also be a very talented writer. If you’re into warm hearted romance, I can’t recommend her books enough. Her understanding of human nature simply brings her books to life. 🙂  Even sweeter, the first in her RIVERS SIGH B&B series, Wedding Bands, is now FREE as an e-book, so you can give it a try without risking a penny.

And hey, I guess I should tell you about my book too. The first book in the WHINNIES ON THE WIND series is FREE right now at most e-book sellers. Search for it – Winter of the Crystal Dances – on your favorite e-book site, and if it isn’t free, let me know. I’m happy to contact the seller.

Wishing you all a joyous  spring, and for those of you who are travelling, maybe I’ll see you on the road!

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I am living this year with the view that ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. What this year may include: adventures in travel, career, personal growth, and more. If you didn’t catch my first impressions of beautiful Colombia, click here.

Ciudad Perdida

Two days later, we hiked into Ciudad Perdida. The trip up to that point had been amazing: the cloud forest vegetation and flowers, the river, the indigenous dwellings, coca plants, and so much more.

The second day of hiking, we passed an elderly indigenous woman on the trail. She asked with hand signals for a hiking stick from a woman in our group, then with stick in hand, flipped a scorpion out from beside the rock at her feet, and proceeded to pound it to death.

Weird Catepillar

Weird Neon Catepillar

Another time, Quapak, our guide, told us that a snake had bitten a mule right there – and he pointed to the creek bank I was standing on. Two days later, when Quapak hiked back, the mule was still at the water’s edge, but it was dead. Needless to say, I crossed with exceptional care.

I was pretty happy to not see a snake close up, or a tarantula, but I was a bit disappointed that there were none to be seen from a distance. However, we did see this strange creature, which to me, looks like it could be related to a nudibranch if we’d found it underwater.

A few of the 1,200 stairs up to Ciudad Perdida.

A few of the 1,200 stairs up to Ciudad Perdida.

 

Finally, on the morning of the third day, we crossed the Rio Buritaca, and climbed the 1,200 stone steps into Ciudad Perdida, gaining 400 meters (over 1,300 feet) in less than a kilometer.  It was a brisk climb but not as challenging as that first day when we climbed 640 meters (2,100 feet) beneath the blasting afternoon sun. Now, trees, some with hundreds of pounds of epiphytes attached, towered over us, vines hanging to the ground.

At the entrance to the city, we made an “offering” to show respect to the indigenous culture. I gently tossed a leaf into the sacred circle, and after a shared minute of silence, we walked into the city, which consisted of stone walled circles, filled with earth, the platform foundations of the houses that had once been there.

The city was abandoned about 400 years ago, though the local people continued to use the site for ceremonial purposes. Only the Mamo (the medicine man) and his family continue to live there, a short distance from the main circles.

Circles and stairs.

Circles and stairs.

These days, thirty more people also live nearby – soldiers. An observation post is on the mountain above the highest circle, and the soldiers keep watch, fully armed and ready to protect the visitors.

The stone circles became bigger as we moved higher on the ridge. As in countless civilizations around the world, the more successful families had the biggest circles and the best views. When the rest of the group stopped at the biggest circle, the one reserved for community gatherings, Brad and I kept climbing, up and up, from circle to circle.

Finally at the top, with only the military post higher, we looked back to see our group grown small below. Oropendolas built hanging nests in some tall palms nearby, their tail feathers flashing yellow in the sun. A pair of green parrots flew by, and then a red bird, and one so blue it looked startling against the blue of the sky. Beyond the stone city itself, the expanse of mountains and valley stretched to the horizon, the first mist of the day starting to gather among the trees.

I was standing in a lost city in South America, something that a year ago I would’ve thought was impossible and, considering our financial situation, irresponsible. Okay, so maybe that part hadn’t changed.

A beautiful view.

A beautiful view.

 

 

But the sight before me, the almost audible hum of energy in the air, the cry of the birds as they enacted their eternal dance, the vines swaying rhythmically to the hot breaths of wind, even a hiker’s laugh from down below – they combined to make that experience far more “real” than the cost, and in that moment, the cost became permanently irrelevant.

So I guess at the end of my life, I’ll die a few thousand dollars poorer, but that’s okay, because I have no doubt that I became much, much richer during these few hours at Ciudad Perdida. And that’s what I call good value.