Category Archives: generosity

Turkey Day, Comfort Food, and Why I’m Grateful

   Hey, friends, welcome to a very festive, happy and grateful lagoon!

Why? Maybe I’m just blown away by the mega-words flowing from our mermaids’ talented fingers during the Month of Nano. Or, maybe it’s the new titles falling from the sky keyboards in the lagoon this year (too many to list here!) Maybe it’s Pintip, who will emcee the 2018 Golden Heart Awards at RWA in Denver!

Congratulations, Pintip!

And those Nano totals? YOW. Denny, Kim, Carlene, Alethea, Pintip. You finny sisters are my inspiration.

If I could just stop doing this in my own writing:

 

Eventually I’ll get to do something like this:

This is not getting us to the topic today, however!

We’re talking Comfort Food in this post, and a big shout-out to those of us who will be in the kitchen. Not me, friends. My only job on Thursday is to bring brownies to the home of my friend Colleen – who is also going twenty-first century with her Turkey Day feast. She ordered it from DeCicco’s in Yorktown, NY, and my plate will be heaped with those trouble-free dishes. No sweat here, we’re kicking the roasting pan to the curb!

I think this is the third year I haven’t made a Thanksgiving dinner, and I admit – there are a few things I miss.  Things I learned from Mom, recipes I love to make, share and eat. Smell and taste are tremendous memory triggers. When I make these dishes, she’s a little closer – in spite of the years since she sat at the kitchen table with the newspaper while the timer ticked away. Here are two of my favorite recipes for the Thanksgiving table:

Sweet Potato Casserole

You haven’t lived until you’ve had mine: fresh sweet potatoes (or, in my house, yams) are peeled, sectioned and microwaved until tender (but not mushy). Wield your vintage potato masher until the (yams) are broken down, but retain character (lumps)(chunks). Blend in a carton of evaporated milk. Add some melted butter. A teaspoon of vanilla. Break up some walnuts or pecans into the mix, if you like the texture and flavor. A teaspoon of cinnamon! And lots of brown sugar. Don’t be shy, toss in a handful or so. Turn it out into a buttered casserole dish and give it 30 minutes or so in the oven at 350°. Yum. 

Cranberry Sauce

I miss my homemade cranberry sauce more than anything. You’ll want just three ingredients: a bag of cranberries from the store, a cup of white sugar, and 3/4 cup orange juice. Dump the berries into a colander and rinse, then pick them over to find the icky ones. Toss those out. Now, in a medium saucepan (2 quart or so), blend the orange juice and sugar. Set over medium high heat, and wait for some drama. When the sugar/juice starts to boil, toss in the cranberries. Stir, then settle back and wait for the mixture to boil again. Boil for FIVE MINUTES. Set a timer, woman, and watch that your heat is high enough to boil and low enough to keep from boiling over! The fun is hearing the cranberries pop and crack as they cook. Move the pan to a cold burner when the timer dings and stir it for a few minutes. Set it aside to cool completely. A pretty crystal dish will show off the jewel color of your creation.

Other family favorites include dressing (not stuffing), made with herb bread baked in our bread machine, and a rice pudding recipe from the Southern Living Cookbook (Mom never made that one, but the cookbook was a Christmas gift soon after I married, and I treasure it – p. 77, Best Banana Bread Ever).

Some dishes became standards over the years as times changed and my own children grew up. Cup Salad (five ingredients: open, dump, stir, chill) replaced the Ambrosia (tediously hand-sectioned oranges and coconut) Mom made for my father.  A church cookbook I bought on a North Carolina beach vacation yielded a recipe that became a favorite each year at our transplanted New York table: a strange mix of lemon and lime Jello, mayonnaise, cottage cheese, chopped walnuts, and canned pineapple tidbits. When I set it on the table the first year, the assembled company recoiled at first. After their first tastes, however, they decided it was too delicious to have the plain-Jane name, “jello salad.” A raucous Turkey-day debate finally re-named it: Martian Salad.

And so it goes. Every generation finds its way to a new variation on the meet/greet/eat/drop theme of the day. In our own home, Andrews standards (creamed onions, creamed potatoes, turnips) never made it to the table. Hosford (maiden name) traditions like mince pie and green bean casserole were also set aside in favor of the new tastes and habits of our generation and our children’s.

One theme that remains, solid and unchanged, is the yearning for connection. Travelers make their way cross-country, clog highways or simply cross town to seek family and friends. New families form for the day, when distance and budget prevents travel. In another town, a church sets a table for “anyone who lacks a family today.”

This is why I’m grateful. In spite of the past year’s trials, I have friends who are eager to see me, and my brownies. My children will call home. One will probably celebrate with friends and his father; another is moving into a new home, and sitting down with her sweetheart’s family.

That connection, that love, those memories. They keep us grounded.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours this week, and blessings to you who set a place for “one more.”

 

 

My Weekend in A Bigger Pond

SusanMermaid

Greetings on a lovely Tuesday morning!  With all the rain behind us for the moment, I can calm down and think again about my fabulous weekend at WRWDC’s annual retreat, In the Company of Writers.

This is one of my favorite retreats. It’s small and relaxed, but still has the energy that comes from friends meeting for two full days to talk about writing and publishing, in every possible format.

What were my favorite parts of the retreat?

A serious moment - the Magic Crystal service award.

A serious moment – the Magic Crystal service award.

  • The food. Seriously. It just kept coming – although the Saturday night desserts caused a near stampede. One poor waiter saw his tray of cheesecake slices vanished before he could get them to the serving table.
  • The seminars – My favorites: Bella Andre’s Ten Tips to Indie Success, Elaine English on Copyright (yes, it really was interesting) and the Keynote speeches. I know I’m leaving something out, but everyone put on such a great presentation, and I couldn’t be everywhere at once!
  • The bar. Yes. Seriously. We all were given a ticket for a free drink to start the weekend off. Need I say more?
  • The Editor/Agent appointments – where we are ushered into a private room with our editors and have a chance to chat. I had a request!
  • RAFFLE2

    Mermaid Kerri’s first author basket – I won it!

    Raffle baskets. This is a big deal with WRW – the drawings took nearly an hour on Sunday afternoon. I won two baskets!

  • Camaraderie – Should I have listed this first? The dynamics of the retreat is that of meeting old friends, rekindling friendships, and making new friends. For me, it was my first retreat under my new pseudonym.  On one level, I expected someone to tell me, “Who are you kidding? That’s not your name!” Didn’t happen.

Last, the Elvis Romance Jeopardy game. Imagine 100 women, many dressed in varying degrees of Elvis-ness. You had to be there. You really did.

elvislives

Wild and Crazy at Elvis Romance Jeopardy – at least we didn’t lose!

Seriously. You had to be there.

susan

 

 

The Giving Season & Free Christmas Titles!

Happy Thursday, fishy friends!

Today there are two things I want to share with you and I just can’t decide which topic to blog about. After much deliberation, I’m taking the easy route and going with BOTH!

Firstly, it’s the Giving Season, and there’s this very special lady out there who is one of those people. You know, the kind who give and give and give but never want any attention brought to their generosity. And you try your very hardest to respect their wishes but eventually you just can’t take it any longer! This lady this past year for me has been the incomparable Dianna Love. I don’t even know where to start, to be honest. Do I tell you about her fabulous books? They’re out of this world, crazy good and I am salivating to crack open my copy of Demon Storm, Book 5 of the Belador series. So. Good.

Demon Storm

 

Or how she is hands down one of the most reader friendly authors I’ve ever met? Her thoughtfulness made my cross-country move this summer the bomb-diggity and she’s also one of the most fun people to pose for pictures with.

Dianna and Carlene 2010 Comic Con

Carlene Love’s “Dianna Love squee moment” at San Diego Comic Con 🙂

There’s all the great stuff she’s constantly doing to help fellow writers too. Her notes on how to write a short story continue to be lifesavers to me. For instance, start with a couple who have history together. Easy but poignant. Seriously, it would take several blog posts to properly gush about Dianna. And here’s the real kicker. I’m but one of thousands of fans she manages to touch like this on a daily basis. I’m going to ask you to trust me on all this because deep down, I really do want to respect her wishes to keep the behind-the-scenes things she does for her fans on the down low. Just know that she’s out there doing it and for that giving spirit of hers, I want to simply say, in a very public way, THANK YOU, DIANNA. You are an amazing human being and I wish all of life’s best blessings on you and yours.

And this brings me to the second and equally awesome part of today’s blog post. I’ve just come across a few brand new, free Christmas romance titles from my publisher! These are short, quick and sexy reads and I’ve already downloaded my copies. Hoping you’ll find something you fall in love with too. If you’d like to download, you can click on the book covers.

christmasfantasy__00248.1417643695.432.648From my dear friend who is equally generous and talented, Sandra Bunino, Christmas Fantasy: Dahlia and Tristan…

Take a sexy trip to your next Christmas fantasy…

A late night train ride kick starts Alexis Winters’ holiday spirit when she finds a seat next to a sexy stranger. Will she get off at the next stop or stay aboard and fulfill the fantasy of a lifetime?

 

 

 

 

 

 

illicitactivityFrom sexy contemporary author, J.R. Gray, Illicit Activity…

The Christmas season is fast approaching. Jesse and George try to keep their connection alive with stolen late night dinners and secret meetings, which never seem to be enough.
Zac doesn’t take no for an answer, and has set his sights on George’s slave Elliot as his newest conquest. Determined to see Elliot and bring him some holiday spirit, Zac starts a battle of wits with George. But Will George be able to outsmart Zac, and keep him away from Elliot, for long?

 

 

 

 

 

 

anhcAnd from the lovely and talented Angelique Voisen, A New Haven Christmas…

While the rest of his pack mates are celebrating the holiday season with their newfound mates, Peter Sanders is miserably counting off the minutes until he can head home. Pete knows he’s no one’s ideal mate. He’s mediocre, sells video games for a living, and still lives with his mother. Pete begins to think it’s going to be another miserable Christmas when his dream hunk strikes up a conversation with him.

Fabio Luigi may be new to the New Haven pack, but he isn’t blind to the glances a certain submissive wolf has been giving him all season long. Pete may believe they come from two different worlds for sparks to fly, but Fabio intends to prove Pete wrong.

 

 

 

 

And they’re all FREE! Happy Giving Season, fishy friends! So now I’d like to know, is there anyone special out there who goes the extra mile but perhaps doesn’t take the credit they deserve? Tell us about them!

Fishy Kisses,

Carlene Mermaid

 

 

 

Getting My Butt Kicked

Susan-Mermaid-avatar As I’ve always said before, I generally avoid New Year’s resolutions.  This year, for a change, I made several:

–       I will join a critique group

–       I will allow myself to mentor someone, and ask for a mentor

–       I will submit material for publication

At the January meeting of CTRWA, I was right there with the club’s critique group.  We found much to say about each other’s work (both pro and con) and left feeling we’d encouraged each other in the best ways.  Resolution One:  check.

Also in January, responded to the semi-annual offer of matching Yodas and Grasshoppers.  Don’t laugh – our most accomplished writers are called Obi-Wans.  However, with the snag of a badly typed email address, I didn’t make the deadline for getting matched.  The coordinator felt badly for me and offered herself up, saying she didn’t feel she was Yoda status yet, but was willing to try.

Resolution Two: check.  Mentor achieved, and by the skin of my teeth.  But what an experience.  It has already changed my life.

You see, Joy asked an interesting question: what did I want from a Yoda? She had already joined the critique group, so she knew my writing.  (A side-resolution: I would be honest in my answer)

“I want someone to kick my butt.”

She wanted to see the synopsis for the book I was closest to finishing (not the one I was working on).  The next day, I had an email:  “We must meet.  This week.  When are you available?”  We settled on Sunday afternoon.

As luck would have it, I had a car accident on Friday.  Spent Saturday feeling like someone had squeezed all my back and shoulder muscles into one big knot (I’mostly fine now.  Really).  On Sunday, I asked Himself to drive me to the meeting spot in Connecticut, where my mentor was going to kick said butt.

I’d already told him he was NOT to sit with us.  Even though he’s a writer.

Thus, my husband of nearly 34 years found a table nearby, placed his lunch order and opened his Kindle.

Ninety minutes later, Joy said something I don’t remember ever hearing:  “I don’t need to see your chapters.  I already know from what I read in critique group, and from your synopsis, that you can write.”  And she asked a question I’d never had to answer before:  “Why are you writing?”

Oh dear.  A question I didn’t know how to answer.  Did I want to be published again?  Sure.  Was I willing to do what it takes to make that happen?

You’re writing, she told me, because you want to see your book published.  You want to know people can read your book.  You want them to see it and know how amazing this story is.  And the way to do that is to submit.  And the way to submit is to

Finish

The

Book

writing space susan 2010

Amazing, how this women – in less than two hours – cuts though the all the crud of my denial and strips away my excuses.  Since our meeting on Sunday, I’ve read through the first ten chapters of THE LAKE EFFECT.  I see lots decent writing, and some of it is terrific.  I also see disjointed scenes, clumsy scenes, awkward phrases, bad word choices and incomplete sentences.  This, I realize, will be my first second draft.  What an idea!  It’s almost something to look forward to – like a strange and unexpected adventure.

Which brings me to the question:  what scares you most about writing?  What would you discover if you dared?

SusanMermaid

Writing Lessons: What a New Shirt Taught Me About the Muse

I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Susan-Mermaid-avatar   I had a “fashion” moment last Saturday.

I’d been to the hair salon for a cut and color – an absolute must before a major holiday!  I’d driven with bestie Colleen to Danbury for shopping.  First, I said, let’s stop for a bite to eat.  Then, I promised, we would attack the mall and our Christmas lists.

But, as I crossed the parking lot, I realized:

  • The shirt I was wearing didn’t feel “good” on my body anymore,
  • It was too short for the current styles,
  • And it was faded.

We must detour, I insisted.  Just a quick stop at JCPenney, I promised.  Yes, I typically take several hours to decide on anything, but this will be different!  Zipped in, scanned the offerings, tried on three shirts, selected one.  I wore it to the cashier and held out of the tag dangling from my wrist:

“I realized the shirt I was wearing is too old to be decent.” (Colleen holds up the shirt I’d arrived in as proof) “So I found this shirt, and I want to wear it right now – can you ring it up without me taking it off?”

Like this, but prettier.

Do you know, this might be my favorite shirt now?  It got me out of a fashion pickle, allowing me to shop for several more hours without that sneaking sense of frumpdom.  I even cuddled the other shirt, safely wadded up in the JCPenney bag the sales associate had offered us, gave it a farewell pat… and stuffed it in a Food Court garbage can.

That’s how determined I was not to be lured into wearing it again.  Its twin (same print, different color) is still at home, but in the bag for Goodwill.  Let someone else deal with it.

You might wonder what this has to do with writing?  Well, when opportunity knocks, you answer.  You don’t hesitate, you act!

When it’s time to write, you don’t wait.  You don’t tell yourself  “Oh, I’ll remember that!  It’s such a good idea, how could I forget it?”  You can!  You can forget it!  Give your brain five milliseconds of distraction and your inspiration is gone!

You don’t tell the Muse to hang on.  When you have the idea, it’s time to buckle down and get your work done.

I hit JCPenney with an idea in mind.  I was determined to act on the idea.  It happened.  Not because I dithered.  Because I acted!

So, here’s the lesson.  Grab your Muse, shake it loose and tell it to get off its sweet hiney and give you material.  Then, don’t wait around for that fickle bitch to show up.   Make the material happen.  She’ll figure it out.

You can do this!  It’s your choice.  Are you gonna wear that tacky old shirt and hope the writing shows up?

I’m saying that the right man for you might be out there right now and if you don’t grab him, someone else will, and you’ll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband.”

You can do better.  If you choose to be a writer, find it in yourself to step away from the tacky old shirts, the worn-out excuses, the distractions, and the do-overs.

The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe you’re either (a) not at home, (b) home but don’t want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy. If it’s either (a) or (c), please call me back.

Stupid delay tactics.  They neve work!  Which is why Harry had to run across New York to find Sally and claim her, at last, on New Year’s Eve.

Good for him.

A Time For Thanksgiving…

th-1It’s November… The days are getting colder, it gets darker earlier and Christmas is just around the corner.

What do you think of when you think of November? NaNoWriMo? The time change? Veteran’s Day? Thanksgiving? For me, November is a time for giving thanks. Here are a few of the things I am thankful for in my life:

  1. I am thankful for my family. Without the support I receive from my husband and children it would be impossible for me to work a full time job, take care of the day-to-day stuff and still find time to write.
  2. I’m thankful that my family is healthy and that we have a roof over our heads and food on our table.
  3. And I am thankful for my job and my co-workers. Just like most of the rest of the world, I’d rather win the lottery and spend my days lounging on a sandy beach somewhere. Preferably with a hot cabana boy to bring me fabulous fruity drinks, but since that sadly doesn’t seem to be an option, I am thankful that my job allows me to take care of my family and save for college, and that my coworkers make that cursed day job tolerable most days.
  4. I am thankful for my friends. I feel so fortunate to be blessed with so many wonderful angels in my life, like every single one of the Waterworld Mermaids. These people lift me up when I am down and challenge me to be better person everyday.
  5. And finally, I am thankful that I live in a time and place where my accomplishments are directly related to how hard I’m willing to work. I have found that the things that are the most valuable in life are those things you have to strive for. I’m glad I get the opportunity to follow my dreams.

So, now that I’ve shared my top five, it’s your turn. Please take a moment to share some of the things that you’re thankful for.

From The Heart

Susan-Mermaid-avatarSeveral weeks ago I sort of volunteered to give a talk at our school’s annual faculty retreat. The day is filled with breakout sessions, much like the typical romance writing conference.  Usually, the experienced teachers are quick to propose their pilgrimages, their prayer retreats, their journey of faith through the study of art… anything that might help fill a day of Teacher Detention.  They’re the wise ones of the faculty:  they know how to fill time.  I’m not a popular teacher:  I sit in the peanut gallery.

So why, this time, did I put myself in the hot seat?  My work BFF, raised in the evangelical Christian tradition, summed it up:  “You have been Called. Do It.”  I thought for a second, told myself stop thinking, and shot off a possible topic to the organizer.

My proposal, on Finding God in the Midst of Suffering, was accepted immediately.  What? No argument?  No questioning?  No “gee, we appreciate your thought, but…”  Nope.  In this game of Tag, I was It.

Librarian that I am, I started with marathon research, viewing the topic from every conceivable angle. The results were depressing.  With good reason:  how could the human experience of suffering, with all its dimensions of pain, anxiety, despair, and agony not be depressing? We’re not talking about build-your-own sundaes here.

I printed out pages and pages of learned examinations of suffering.  Those genius brains had written volumes that avalanched down the high hills of history and buried unassuming teachers alive.

Every single time I tried to read these papers, my eyes glazed over.  I couldn’t do it.  I had nothing.  Do you hear me, world?  Nothing!

Worse, I was facing off against a more experienced teacher.  His talk was on Gratitude.  Great, I complained at home.  I get the widows and orphans.  He gets the cool people, the ones who are easy to please.  Who doesn’t want to be happy?  Having been programmed against the Catholic high school equivalent of Kristan Higgins or Nora Roberts, I printed out 15 handouts.  Nobody would come, I figured.  I stopped trying.

When the hour of doom came, people trickled in, picked up the handouts from the chairs, and, to my surprise, didn’t get up and rush to find a seat at the (better) (happier) (more fun) celebrity talk. More people came in. We ran out of handouts. The room filled. What were they thinking?  Didn’t they know they were in the wrong room?

Raymond introduced me.  I was petrified, mortified,  A Beautiful Mind come to life.  “It’s not my job to make you feel better,” I said, to start. “ Or solve your problems. And everything that goes wrong in this talk—“ I pointed at the friend who’d put me here “– is all his fault.”

They laughed.  Then, as I assured them we didn’t have time to cover all my stories of suffering, they began to quiet.  When I touched on my problems with post-partum depression, the room went dead still.  Nothing I said was complex or earthshaking.  It was me sharing, my own sad, stupid experiences.  My own struggles to find my way back to the light.  And three verses of Scripture I hoped would guide them, and me, through the shit-storm.

And somehow, it worked.  This presentation, weak and ill-prepared, this testimony, touched my peers. Not just immediately, but every day for a full week, people shared their own experiences privately.  And thanked me. Praise can be humbling.  Disconcerting.  Confusing.

I found myself in a conversation with a fellow teacher, a woman I admired and feared.  Her congratulations were difficult to take, and I’m afraid I blurted out how bewildered I was.

“Are you kidding?” she said.  “It was so completely different from anything we’ve ever had at retreat before.  And you said what you felt, and you were honest.  And you said things that were real.

Now, taking this back to the perpetual Mermaid topic, how does this story speak to writing?  We writers put ourselves out there, every day.  We kill ourselves to tell stories.  Our audiences compare us to award-winners, childhood favorites, geniuses of the craft, and the other writers who inspired us to take up our pens.  I can’t compete with the Greats.  But I can tell stories and this is what readers look for…  the fresh, new, personal voice.  We can’t compete with the Noras and Kristans in RomanceLand, but we can entertain.  We can share our stories and touch people.  All we need to do is speak from the heart.

Learning to Keep Your Balance

Did you ever have a moment where a challenge you’ve known of for a long time seemed seemed to suddenly, magically resolve?Susan Mermaid

My lovely, talented, rapscallion son, Skitch, graduated from college two years ago.  He needed five years to complete his studies in engineering.  I was happy to give him that extra year – he chose a very affordable state school and I had (at the time) sufficient funds to help out.  We were thrilled when he was ready to fly the coop, get a job and spread his wings.

squidolin6But the graduation gift…  what to give this only son, who spread himself among so many interests and passions?  He suggested, and hubby liked the idea of, an electric violin.  But the best electric violins cost many thousands of dollars.  They need accessories, expensive ones.  We don’t know anything (much) (nothing) about electric violins.  And even Skitch wasn’t sure which one he might want.  Or how much he would use it.  Did an elementary school viola career equal (merit) the cost of such an expensive instrument?

Plus, the family was now short on cash (thank you, recession).  Our dearest son didn’t press, and the idea was dropped.  His father fretted from time to time, feeling we were being ungenerous.  A graduation gift is customary.  We’d let it slide.  Were we good parents?  Over and over, I assured him that we were, our son loved us unconditionally, and a gift would eventually be discovered, procured and delivered.  And we would forget all about it again for several months.

Last month, I exited CVS with my usual mix of necessary (toilet paper) and unnecessary (lipstick) items.  New York, for once, was enjoying a perfect blend of sunshine and mild weather.  I glanced left and, as usual, and saw the rows of bikes outside the village bike shop.  Bikes.  Surely, after all this time… Could it be so easy?

My request was simple:  bike for 25-year old man.  Needs more than a sidewalk cruiser, but not that $2000 cliff jumper over there.  No tricks, or challenging courses, no big drops.   Young man in question still gets crazy ideas, so it needs to be able to take a beating.  And he still lives in a college town, so any lock or cable needs to be able to survive that caliber of thief.

bike

Forty minutes later, I was texting my son with questions and sending photos.  Two weeks after that, we arrived at his apartment with a bike, carrier, helmet, tire pump and (most important) a gnarly cable lock.  Since then, he’s gone riding several times a week, hoping to build up enough mileage to cycle-commute to work and back.

Happy boy, happy and relieved father, brilliant mom.  Thus, the saga of “what do we get Skitch for graduation?” closes.

Which brings me to the real topic today:  how many grand plans for our writing have we made that go unattended?  How many minor disappointments do we harbor?  In some ways we allow ourselves to construct these disappointments, all on our own, simply by allowing the time or opportunity to slip past.  Okay, circumstance occassionally visits them upon us and we watch, helpless, as all our lovely plans are shattered.  The editor or agent request gone stale.  The rejection that continues to sting and fester.  The rewrite that goes so badly we give up – and can’t forgive ourselves, even when we know it was for the best.  Or, the story that’s dry, parched, neglected and, sadly, left alone (thank you, dearest husband for that addition). Sometimes we allow ourselves a little moan but, mostly, we let ourselves “live poor.”

In Skitch’s case, the lack of knowledge, compounded by lack of money bred the lack of gift – a kind of “living poor” that wouldn’t let go.  We don’t have the money for a violin.  We don’t know how to buy a violin.  Hubby let this fester and I tried, very hard, not to absorb his disappointment as my own.  I had to believe that one day we would be able to solve the problem.

Enter Bikeway!  I do have the money for a bike, Skitch already knows how to ride a bike, I can afford a bike!  Once I had the Smaller Gift idea it happened.  I even used my new “live with the money you have” mantra and paid cash.  Well, debit card, but it really was “cash.”  My bank account knows the truth…

Having gone through this now, I want to bring this lesson to my writing.  Enough disappointment with what I have not accomplished.  More celebrating the tiny steps.  The finished (begun) paragraphs, pages, outlines, scrawled notes, gathered ideas.

This journey as a writer is a process of discovery all its own.  The more I know about my writing, the more I try (and fail), the better I know myself.  How can I mine this newly realized (lesson) (discovery) knowledge of “small victories” and use it to conquer “living poor?”

What would you do with this discovery?

SusanMermaid