You know those scenes in action movies where the hero rolls under the gigantic steel door just before it slams shut? That’s how I’m getting this April blog in….just under the wire. And not because I’ve been out saving the world. More like I’ve been saving myself. From what or for what has been unclear. So unclear that the only theme I considered for April was THE UNKNOWN. But since the unknown makes me uncomfortable, I scrapped that idea.
In last week’s newsletter, I asked readers to take a peek at my first article as guest author on DivorcedMoms.com. I was at 1,300 views and hoping to earn a bronze star on that site.
Fast forward (and I mean fast)… that blog was picked up and featured on the Huffington Post’s Divorce page, then picked up by HP Germany and today appeared in Australia’s IVillage.
The DM editor told me I’d gone viral. No wonder I’m feeling a little dizzy and having trouble catching my breath.
I just finished working with a wonderful story coach named Pat. We spent a month together shaping and defining my upcoming book. Pat was a pro about finding the arc of the story—the only hitch was that what I called the end, she said was the middle.
Ugh. Anyone who has tackled a long-term project knows that the last thing you want to hear is that you’re halfway there!
I didn’t want to write about my dad dying—too painful, or about the long overdue breakup with a boyfriend—too embarrassing.
Well it was a close one, waiting to see which would cave first, the Chicago Teachers Union, Mayor Rahm, or my sanity. After 7 glorious kid-filled, Norman Rockwell-esque strike days, the kids are back in school, and I have one less excuse to not be writing. Though there was that week of intense cramps, nausea, headaches and overall feminine maladies to remind me that no, I’m not getting any younger and that my hormones are, just like the teachers’ union, demanding more air conditioning and willing to shut down the system to get it.
I’m sitting in a room with 25 fourth graders and we are all shouting, “I am an author! I have something to say!” I have goosebumps. I’m much older than 10 and have written a novel, but never in my life have I shouted those words. Call me a slow learner. Add to that humbled volunteer. I’m a writing coach at an Open Books literacy field trip; my group and I have just spent 2 hours learning about character and creating our own from a photo of a nondescript brunette twenty-something. The kids decide she is Anna, a fashion designer in New York City with an on-again-off-again boyfriend. She’s trying to pay off student loans and doesn’t know if she can afford to stay in the city.
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions