The Thing That Scares You!

So - this is a little something different! Make sure you read ALL THE WAY thru for some amazing blogs and prizes! YES! Prizes! 

In SPIRAL, Nessa confronts her fears about getting close to Aron by reminding herself of her father's motto: "Always do the thing that scares you." 

It's probably a saying all of us could use from time to time, and in the spirit of Mila's new book, "SPIRAL," I've joined some friends to write about the thing I did that scared me. 

Um, this is sort of hard. I've done a lot of things that have scared the sweet be-jesus out of me, but I was too dumb, stubborn busy to notice. But the last one - ahhh. That was both well calculated and absolutely terrifying.

So, let me start off by saying I have NOT had the best of luck with men. Or maybe I should say I've had too much luck with men. I've sort of been married too much. Yeah. Me and Liz. *sigh*

However - when I met The Man Behind The Curtain, things changed. He was wonderful, amazing, generous, kind, supportive. Yeah, all that and a hunk. We met at work, and my work meant I travelled a lot. Like, for months on end. The first three years we were together, I was gone more than I was home. I went to Texas (three times), Connecticut (twice), San Diego (four times), Philadelphia (seven times), Miami (twice) and Jacksonville (three times). I travelled A LOT. 

Then, I moved into a new position at work and I was home. A LOT. I even worked from home two days a week. Of course, when I did go in to the office, I worked way too many hours. He would call me at 6 p.m. (having been there since 6 a.m.) and tell me to turn off the computer and come home. And he'd have dinner waiting. 

I know, right? What a guy! 

And I left him again. 

And that's what I did that scared me.

We were really, really happy. We'd been together longer than any two of my previous marriages combined. It was all sooooo good. And I was offered a job all the way across the country. Like, move from right coast to left coast across the country. 

I had made a point of telling The Man Behind The Curtain that I was going back to California someday. My entire family was there, including my son who had just left the military. And the job was in San Diego. SAN DIEGO!!! 

It was an amazing opportunity; I was being given the chance to be the Quality Manager at a major shipyard. I was being given the chance to be the FIRST woman Quality Manager of a shipyard that anyone had ever known. Me! Little Ol' Me! But there was a catch (isn't there always): My company was sending me six months on temp assignment, and if it didn't work out, they would "find something for me to work on." This meant no relocation expenses and no guarantees. Pretty scary, right? 

No, that was not the scariest part. 

See, The Man Behind The Curtain was all for me taking the chance. He was all about me taking advantage of this opportunity, even though there was no safety net. And folks, we didn't exactly have any other kind of safety net, financial or otherwise. And he told me (prepare to mist) that he had his career, it was my turn. Really. He said that.

So, we loaded up the Honda  and drove across the country. We enjoyed the drive. We enjoyed spending time together. We enjoyed the three days in California together before he had to fly back. To our house. Our dog. Our friends. His job - which had no possibility of transferring. 

And the hardest thing? The thing that scared me the most? Leaving him at the airport for his flight back to Virginia. See, that was the point, the exact moment in time when I realized I was leaving the one thing I never wanted to leave: Him. 

I was good at leaving. I was a professional, actually. Like the main character in my first novel, I was the one who always left when things got too difficult, too complicated or too painful. But this time, this time I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to run away and end things. And I was terrified that I had just screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was so scared and so upset, I had to pull over on the side of the freeway and bang my hands on the steering wheel and cry. Really cry. I don't cry, folks. But I did then. 

It was awful. The job was more challenging than I ever imagined. I was working crazy mad hours, not sleeping well, not eating well, not taking care of myself. But everyday, at the same time, I would get these amazing phone calls, and I would be reminded that I could do this. I could live three-thousand miles away from the only person I ever really wanted in my life. I could do the job no one else wanted and I could make a difference in a company that almost shut down because of Quality and I could come out the other end a better person. Because he believed in me. And in us. 

And now, seven years later, here we are. We made it. I made it, because I took a chance on the thing that scared me the most - commitment. Commitment to him, no matter how far apart we were. Commitment to his belief in me. Commitment to being the person he saw in me. 

And you know what's really cool? I mean, besides the fact that he still cooks dinner and is still a hunk? He believes in my writing, in this whole "book" thing I'm trying to do. He even shushes me and sends me up to the computer to write. And you know what? I'm not scared anymore!

Here's more about Mila's amazing new book, "SPIRAL"

Nessa Cavanaugh, psychology student, knows how to stay on an even keel. Despite the urging of her mother and her academic advisor to get a life and have some fun, “all work and no play” sums up her plan to survive her grueling internship year at a children's hospital. She doesn't want to end up like her father, whose constant ups and downs broke her family, and avoiding unnecessary emotional entanglements is a must.

Then she (literally) runs into Dr. Aron Lindstrom in the middle of her disastrous first day on the job. The attraction is instant—and terrifying. Nessa knows she should stay away—especially when she finds out he has a reputation for being a player—but Aron is brilliant, intense, and as sexy as they come. When he challenges her to take a chance on him, her plans to stay focused on work start to crumble.

But what begins as passion takes on a dangerous edge, becoming an emotional roller coaster that’s frighteningly familiar. As things spiral out of control, Nessa must decide whether she should hold on for the ride or run … even if it means leaving her heart behind.

Now - check out the other bloggers revelations of things they were a'scared of, as well as a chance to win a $50 gift card, copies of Mila's new book and some sweet swag!!!

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"C" is for Creativity...

Today's post is a "two-fer"; as part of the A to Z blog challenge, it begins with the letter "C." As part of the Insecure Writer's Group, it addresses a common concern/fear amongst us mere mortals: creativity and the lack there of.

If you've been following, you know that Monday I blogged about abundance - the abundance of ideas flowing from my head. And you also read about my fear that I would lose some of those thoughts, thus a need to catch the ideas in some way, shape or form. You may also remember my "BOLA" post from March 20th ... a humorous and honest post about my need to write it down NOW.

Creativity is a funny thing - dancing in and out of life when we least expect it, most need it and can't find it. We've all had days where we've stared at a blank sheet of paper or a stark, white screen on the computer and the little pointer blinks. And blinks. And blinks. And nothing comes to us. And we've had those days were our fingers can't possibly keep up with the flow of words trying to make their way from our brains to whatever mechanism we use for capture. The problem is, there's no way to predict or identify what sort of day we'll have.

It's not like the weather (which, by the way, I wouldn't mind having a job where I got paid for a 60% accuracy rate) - we can't forecast "good" or "bad" writing days. They just happen, and we have to cope with them.

I've had stories hit me like a lightening strike while walking the dog. My first novel came to me over Christmas and was complete (first draft, anyways) in a little over two weeks. And I've had ideas for stories that I don't even seem able to begin, even though I captured the premise on a sticky-note and stare at it daily. Then there are the days where you know where the story needs to go, but the only thing you manage to write is a string of periods. Not even ellipses! Just period, after period, after period.

That's where I'm at with my latest WIP. I'm probably two or three chapters from finishing, and I can't seem to get it done. I sit at the computer and review the preceding chapter or two. I play at editing the front end. I tweet, facebook, blog and surf. And it's still waiting for me. The main characters hang suspended, frozen in time in awkward positions, waiting for me to tell them what happens next. And I tweet. Surf. Facebook.

I shouldn't be surprised - the WIP began with me typing "what if" over and over on a clean sheet of electronic paper. Apparently, creativity has chosen this moment to go on her own vacation, leaving me high and dry. All I can do is keep trying. Keep sitting in front of the computer each evening, drinking Glenlivet and hoping she'll come back to me, or the Scotch will kick in. Of course, with Glen keeping me company, I'm not sure how much I miss that muse!

Bonus Post!

First, Happy St. Paddy's Day to one and all!  My friend, Mark Koopman's insists this is the correct spelling. He should know, having sprouted from the Emerald Isle as a wee lad himself! If you haven't already, make sure you check out his Blog Hop by clicking on his name above, or in the lower right corner of this page.

 Now - where's that damn thought I wanted to publish? Ach - can't be the Scotch - not this early in the day!

Ah - there it is. So - I was walking the dog this morning (yes, I do occasionally get my butt out of the chair and move about) when a great short-story popped into my head. I haven't written a short in a long, long time. My mother will attest to the fact that I do nothing unless it takes great periods of time and deliberation, but there I go getting off track again.

Anyway - I came home straight away and finished it in under an hour. 2,300 words. I read it to my husband. I read it to myself. I changed one word. ONE WORD. And then I sent it to seven magazines. I was pretty hyped about it. Still am.

Want a teaser? Here ya go. I'll let you know if it gets published. Please, PLEASE tell me what you think!


My husband, Xavi, watches with a frown as I take the leash from the hook and snap it to the dog’s collar. “I’m going for a walk.”
 
“We have to be there at seven.” I follow his eyes to the clock on the stove. Our daughter, Lani, sits at the table, watching us warily.

“It’s only four. I’ll be back in time.”

“You get lost when you walk.”

Lani’s eyebrows shoot to the roof of her brow. “Lost? Mommy, you get lost?”

I laugh. Xavi used to say my laugh was like the sun coming over the horizon in the morning, like the color yellow. Warm and soft, soothing and pure. He used to say it filled his heart with happiness. Now it makes him frown even more.

“Only in my head, Mija. Only in my head,” I smooth the hair on her back. At twenty-three, she’s a thing of beauty.

“Except for one time,” Xavi says, looking at me. The smile is tugging at his mouth again. He can never stay angry.

“Except for one time,” I answer, smiling back. I kiss him softly on the cheek and head out the door with the dog, aching to put miles under my feet.

I think about the one time, as we march up the hill behind the house. The first time, when Xavi and I met. I’ve always walked. Walked for hours, wandering the trails on the mesa where we live. Walked aimlessly, blindly, listening only to the music in my head and seeing only the images in my mind.