Rebecca Donovan's Blog, page 2

Be Dazzling!

You are a gift. Each and every one of you is a gift.

You come in all shapes and sizes, so I encourage you to wrap yourself in whatever makes you…YOU!

Want to wear a gown grocery shopping? Let the chiffon flow!

Do brilliant sparkles make you smile? Then, please, layer on the bling and smile!

Allow your ensemble to represent who you are, no matter how colorful, formfitting, or eccentric. If it makes you feel good, WEAR IT!

Do not be discouraged by the judgment of others. When you slip into that leather skirt, know that you’re doing it for you, not for the attention of a guy.

If you hate heels, but wear them because he likes them… throw them away! Slide into your beloved flats.

Are you proud of your legs, but fear being labeled a “slut” in that short skirt? Shamers be damned! Flaunt those legs!

We are fabulous human beings. We are not here to be judged, shamed or ridiculed for how we choose to wrap our bodies. Don’t allow fear to hide who you are. Look in the mirror and LOVE who you see looking back.

Respect yourself. Allow the world to see who you truly are. Proudly wear your heart on the outside. Drape yourself in whatever makes you shine! Because beneath all of the sparkles and bows, there’s YOU. The true Gift.

Who you choose to share with the world is on the inside. It is this gift that I love and admire. So…

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I am a Writer…

“How’s the Writing Going?”

If I say that I’m writing, will it make it true? If I tell you the words are finding me, will it convince them to flow? If I want it enough, will it happen? I’ve wanted to believe that by saying it, I was inviting creativity back into my life. But it was only a lie I wanted to be true.

I am a writer, searching for creativity.

“How’s the Writing Going?”

I’ve been writing the same four chapters for over a year. I’ve rewritten the same four chapters again and again, hoping to spark the story from which they were created. I listen… but the voices only speak to me in sporadic bursts – fading before I can capture them.

I stare at my screen, waiting for the words. I stare at the walls. I stare out the window. Hours go by. My house is clean. My laundry is folded. My screen remains blank. My head remains quiet.

I am a writer, without words.

“How’s the Writing Going?”

They become the words I dread most, instantly flooding me with shame. I cringe when my agent’s number appears on my phone, wishing I could tell her I have something… but I can’t. I watch my friends publish book after book. I praise their accomplishments – I am truly so proud of them. But I’m equally ashamed of my lack of contribution. Each time I attend a signing, I am humbled and grateful for every reader who waits in line to meet me. But then I want to apologize to each of them for only having the same four books without anything new released. The shame burrows deep, and I sink into its hole.

I am a writer, who is not writing.

“How’s the Writing Going?”

The question is now a blow to my gut, laden with guilt. Writing is my career. I chose to devote my life to it. I was so confident in my ability, I left everything else behind to pursue it. I once worked sixty to eighty hours a week, and now I can’t write a single page. I avoid my agent, my editor, my friends, my financial planner, not wanting to answer that ten-thousand-pound question. I am a fraud.

I am a writer, who cannot write.

“How’s the Writing Going?”

“It’s not!” I want to scream. “I’m not writing!”

Fear coils in my gut, cold and heavy. What if I can never write again? Have I written all that I’m meant to write? How will I pay my bills? Should I pursue another career? What’s wrong with me?

Wait. Say that again…

“What’s wrong with me?”

That’s when I know… Something is wrong. I can feel it in my vacant stare. Within the fog in my brain. I am lost. Disconnected. I am not myself.

With help from my doctor, I’ve spent the past year searching for me. The body is a delicate vessel, and if one thing is off-balance, it can affect everything. I have been off-balance, in need of fine tuning, like dialing in a radio station.

Static. Static. I can hear a voice. Lost it. Static. There! That’s it! Music!

I am a writer, who will write.

“How’s the writing going?”

It’s coming…

The voices speak louder each day. My confidence is re-emerging, comforting the fear with a hug, whispering “Everything’s going to be okay.” The shame and guilt have lessened, but insist on hovering. At sweetgirlsescort.com, the hottest VIP escort full of busty ladies is at your service Soon, they too will be silenced because I don’t know how to give up. I am meant for this life, to share my words… to create.

I vow to never release a story just to ease the guilt. I will only share my words when they’re worthy of being read. I will live my truth and remain honest with who I am. And despite being lost in the haze of imbalance, I know exactly who that is.

I AM A WRITER.

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I’ve Been Waiting for You!

I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. They always seemed like work to me. And that’s not very much fun. Instead, I recognize something I learned from the previous year and allow it to influence the upcoming year. And in 2015… I learned a lot.

This past year was one of the most challenging years I’ve personally experienced in a long time. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It was an enlightening year, allowing me to see my life and the world around me in a way I never have before. I gained insight on who I am as a person and an artist. And it introduced new experiences and connected me with people who have changed me in so many ways. It also has provided me with that much more knowledge to bring with me into 2016.

And that is why I am calling this the year of Beginning Again. There are many years preceding it, but this one is brand new. And only I get to decide how it will begin. I am excited by all of the possibilities… because they all exist. Every single possibility. Now all I have to do is to decide upon which one to make happen first.

A maybe it will begin with…

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More Than You Know…

You let me in. You chose to pick up my book from the shelf, or click on its cover on your screen. You opened it, and turned the pages. And in that moment, you let me in. You allowed me to be a part of your life. You read the words painted upon the pages, and entered the world I created. You gave me access to your heart. To your mind. To your judgment. You fell in love. You filled with rage. You cried. You forgave. And maybe, you didn’t understand, but accepted what I presented to you all the same.

And then… you gave back. You sent me messages. Mailed me letters. Created beautiful works of art. Shared your life… with me. I’ve read every single word you wrote. I kept the gifts you gave to me. You were brave enough to confide in me. Know that my heart will forever hold your journeys of survival sacred. I watched you wait in line for hours just to receive a signature and a picture, and I couldn’t have loved you more. I wish I could have given you more. I wish I could show you a glimpse of my soul so you can see how much you’ve changed me.

You don’t know me. Not really. Yet… you trusted me with your emotions. You may not have liked how I made you feel along the way. But in the end, you stood by me, holding onto hope that I would keep you safe. You refused to give up on me. And you still haven’t, even in this year of silence… you are still there, waiting for me…. for my words. Believing in me. Still allowing me to be a part of your lives.

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I am writing…

What am I writing?

Jonathan Reese’s tragic story. Jonathan is the most complex and controversial character to emerge from The Breathing Series. He evoked such extreme emotion from every reader, I decided his story needed to be told. His life is just as heartbreaking as Emma’s and the violence even more severe. Just because the series will be written from Jonathan’s point of view does not mean I’m going to attempt to persuade you to like him. I promise to be true to his character, revealing all of what makes him who he is – the man readers love, hate, or hate to love.

There is so much more to Jonathan than his All-American stunning looks and confidence. He has suffered immeasurable pain throughout his life, leaving him a deep-rooted anger he cannot relinquish. The rage that possesses him has destroyed so many lives. In attempt to save himself, he is forced to relive his abuse and atone for the devastation he’s left in his wake. This includes confronting the girl who tore out his heart.

It’s not easy being inside Jonathan’s head. His life is more complicated than I anticipated. And he reveals some very disturbing moments in his life. His story will be powerful. I know I won’t be the same once I’m done capturing it. This story is intricate and it’s revealing itself to me slowly, so I will need time to assure I portray his life accurately. It is very important I get it right.

Is Jonathan maniacally twisted, or misunderstood? Does he deserve redemption, or is he beyond salvation? I don’t know. This time, I’m writing unaware of how The Burning Series will end.

Be patient. It’s coming.

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It Happens When It Happens…

By nature, I’m a control freak. An impulsive control freak at that. I get an idea, and I want it done. Right at that very moment. If I can see it in my head, then I want to figure out a way to make it happen.

My mind never shuts off. It keeps me up at night, plaguing me with vision after vision. Insomnia and I are well acquainted. I have six stories in my head, waiting for their turn to talk to me. There’s places I want to visit, causes I’d like to support, concerts to experience, while guiding my son to be the best human possible. I have no idea how to sit quietly and relax… it seems impossible.

Knowing this about myself, the hardest lesson I have had to learn is that I am not in control of my creativity. I am at its mercy. And that does not bide well with a control freak. I have a concept for a story. I know what I want it to be about, who will be in it, and how it will end. But it doesn’t mean I can write it.

Writing WHAT IF made me question everything. Even my approach to writing. I started this story more than five times. I thought I could write it in three months. It took seven. I tried to plot my points and write from beginning to end like I’ve always done. I ended up writing out of order, within the past and the present, in three different points of view. I thought it was going to be a fun, light love story. It is NOT.

WHAT IF was supposed to be my reprieve from the emotional gutting I’d just been through with The Breathing Series.  A cleansing, if you will. That’s not what ended up happening.

This story messed with my head. It challenged me since conception. Writing was counterintuitive since the story is told by a twenty-year-old college guy – which I am not. I had to lose myself to his voice, suppressing my own. There was a point that I considered quitting, and trying another project. However, this story was determined to be told, but in its own way. (Besides… I don’t know how to give up.) In the end, I experienced a creative process I could never have predicted.

There are so many layers to this story. Everything is connected – moments, words, even colors. It’s easy to just enjoy it for what it is when you read it. But if you look closely, you’ll see the interwoven lines of the web that you’re caught within. Everything is on purpose.

So what’s WHAT IF about? It’s not a love story. It’s a life story. It’s about friendship. It’s about love. It’s about second chances. It’s about living the life you want, not the one you’re given.

And I’m so very proud of this story. It’s taught me so much about myself as a writer. Patience being the hardest lesson (that I am still trying to learn). It is unlike anything I’ll ever write. But that’s what I hope to say about each story I create. And after everything I went through, I wouldn’t change a thing.

So it is with great pleasure that I announce that I’ve signed with Grand Central Publishing and they plan to release the eBook of WHAT IF in September 2014 and the paperback in January 2015.

I will keep you apprised of the details as I continue to work with them. I have some amazing things planned for promoting WHAT IF as well that I want you to be a part of!

Since I’m making announcements, I’d also like to share that I’m currently speaking with a production company about making The Breathing Series into a movie series. Nothing is “official” yet, which basically means I haven’t signed anything. But I just submitted the screenplay to the team as we continue to move forward. You will hear my scream of excitement echo around the world when I can officially announce it. This will be a cinematic experience unlike any other!  I cannot wait!!

One more thing… (This is what happens when I wait until I have news to share before writing a blog post, everything happens at once!) Due to the amount of travel I’m doing this summer, I will begin writing Jonathan’s story this fall! The Burning Series will also be a trilogy: IGNITING LIES, BURNING TRUTH, and ASHES OF REDEMPTION. I have no idea when you can expect them. But I promise to keep you updated as I create his story, which is going to be dark and violent.

I told you I have a whirlwind going on inside my head… and those are just the projects I can announce!!

The post It Happens When It Happens… appeared first on Rebecca Donovan.

Honestly

This is the time of year when people reflect upon what has happened and what will be.

But I’d rather reflect upon the now. The moment I’m living in this very second. And this second, for me, is all about honesty.

As real and pure as honesty is, it’s also hard. It’s not always easy to give. And it can be difficult to hear. But acknowledgment of the truth can change the very seconds we’re living in.

It takes courage and strength to be honest with who you are; to look in the mirror and respect the person looking back at you. There are days that person looks like a stranger. Someone you’ve never met before. Someone you don’t want to know. But every day, that person is you. And every day, you should challenge that person to be better.

Better than the day before. Better than the hour before. Better than the second before.

Because you can… you are… better. Look. Can’t you see it?

It may take even more courage and strength to look the person you love and care about in the eye, with the risk of losing them, and want them to want more, from this life. You can’t make them. You can only want it for them.

Because the truth… the honest truth… won’t set them free. Only they can. And that realization may hurt, but the honesty you share might actually save them.

I will always strive to be better –to smile at the reflection looking back at me with acceptance. I love with all that I am. I protect with every ounce of my being. I give until there’s nothing left. And I cannot live without being honest… even if that leaves me with a loss.

I could sit here and reflect upon my amazing moments of 2013… and there have been many. Or I could be excited for what is to come in 2014, because it will be the most life-altering year yet. But I’d rather live in the moment I’m in.

I know there is no better day than the one I’m living… until tomorrow.

Honestly

This is the time of year when people reflect upon what has happened and what will be.

But I’d rather reflect upon the now. The moment I’m living in this very second. And this second, for me, is all about honesty.

As real and pure as honesty is, it’s also hard. It’s not always easy to give. And it can be difficult to hear. But acknowledgment of the truth can change the very seconds we’re living in.

It takes courage and strength to be honest with who you are; to look in the mirror and respect the person looking back at you. There are days that person looks like a stranger. Someone you’ve never met before. Someone you don’t want to know. But every day, that person is you. And every day, you should challenge that person to be better.

Better than the day before. Better than the hour before. Better than the second before.

Because you can… you are… better. Look. Can’t you see it?

It may take even more courage and strength to look the person you love and care about in the eye, with the risk of losing them, and want them to want more from this life. You can’t make them. You can only want it for them.

Because the truth… the honest truth… won’t set them free. Only they can. And that realization may hurt, but the honesty you share might actually save them.

I will always strive to be better –to smile at the reflection looking back at me with acceptance. I love with all that I am. I protect with every ounce of my being. I give until there’s nothing left. And I cannot live without being honest… even if that leaves me with a loss.

I could sit here and reflect upon my amazing moments of 2013… and there have been many. Or I could be excited for what is to come in 2014, because it will be the most life-altering year yet. But I’d rather live in the moment I’m in.

I know there is no better day than the one I’m living… until tomorrow.

 

 

 

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Waiting....

I talk out loud – creating conversation.

I visualize facial expressions – squinting, mouth tightening, furrowing brows.

I observe me – my breathing, my heartbeat, my hands clenching.

Then I listen.

Where is this taking me? What should happen next? How will this all come together?

And then there is silence. I wait. But the voices are mute.

I try to force them, but it’s no use. They will not be persuaded by desperation.

I know the story. I know what needs to be told. But there are no words in the silence. I can’t write them if they are not ready. I can only wait.

And waiting is hard.

Waiting makes me question my choices. Makes me question if I truly deserve to be an author. It shakes my confidence. Induces panic.

Because they are waiting. Wondering what is next. When it will be done. They’re all waiting for me to… write. And so am I.

And then it happens. The voices come rushing at me, so overwhelming I don’t know where to begin… I want to cry. Tears of relief. Tears of joy. A rush of adrenaline. Elation courses through me.

There’s a pounding in my chest because I can see it. I can hear it. The story that’s been waiting, dormant in its formation, is ready to finally be told.

I close my eyes, and absorb it all. It becomes everything, and nothing else matters until the final word is typed. Nothing else matters…

Waiting…

I talk out loud – creating conversation.

I visualize facial expressions – squinting, mouth tightening, furrowing brows.

I observe me – my breathing, my heartbeat, my hands clenching.

Then I listen.

Where is this taking me? What should happen next? How will this all come together?

And then there is silence. I wait. But the voices are mute.

I try to force them, but it’s no use. They will not be persuaded by desperation.

I know the story. I know what needs to be told. But there are no words in the silence. I can’t write them if they are not ready. I can only wait.

And waiting is hard.

Waiting makes me question my choices. Makes me question if I truly deserve to be an author. It shakes my confidence. Induces panic.

Because they are waiting. Wondering what is next. When it will be done. They’re all waiting for me to… write. And so am I.

And then it happens. The voices come rushing at me, so overwhelming I don’t know where to begin… I want to cry. Tears of relief. Tears of joy. A rush of adrenaline. Elation courses through me.

There’s a pounding in my chest because I can see it. I can hear it. The story that’s been waiting, dormant in its formation, is ready to finally be told.

I close my eyes, and absorb it all. It becomes everything, and nothing else matters until the final word is typed. Nothing else matters….

 

 

 

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