Emily Kinney's Blog, page 10

First post. Just because it had to happen some time.

So, this is my first blog post. Well, my first one on here. I’ve done others elsewhere, mostly talking about how I don’t actually like blogs and so why am doing a blog at all. I could talk about that again, but, my goodness, I don’t feel like it. The best way to cover that topic is just to say succinctly, this will not be a traditional blog, but a way to share my passion with you. That is to say, when inspiration strikes, whenever and for whatever reason that may be, I will type out the story on here and share it with ya’ll. And, yes, there will probably be days when I share myself and my goings-on, just because I like to connect with my fellow humans just as much as the next gal.

I’m a little tired and emotionally drained right now, so I apologize if I sound somewhat listless. To be honest, at this very moment in time, I am quite listless. We all have those days. Depending on what we encounter in day-to-day life, such days are either more or less frequent. Really, I’ve been having one of those weeks. But, trust me, it will change. It always does. I am looking forward to connecting and sharing on here. I’m rather a novice about maintaining one of these things. One of these blog things. There are a few entries on Goodreads that I’ve done, and those are pretty good, but I wanted to establish an actual site. Something a bit more complete.

So here we go. Let us commence.

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Euphoria

For the last month and a half, I have been thoroughly stressed out, yet exceptionally focused. Apparently they go hand in hand. However, my emotions were far from soaring. I was either moderately blah, or swathed in tears. If I did encounter happiness, it just didn't seem to strike me at the core. I felt it, certainly, but not its pure essence. It was almost as if I only KNEW I was happy instead of feeling it flood my limbs and heart.
I was actually starting to worry for a minute. This is a bit of an admition, but I'm addicted to happiness. I've felt happiness in full-on, undiluted, sunshine-in-every-cell-of-your-body kind of way many times in my life. Much in the past year. It's amazing; down right intoxicating. And I think that the worries and stresses of May and June were blocking this sort of happiness's way in.
But, I'm pleased to report, that seems to be good and over for now. Yes, there are still worries and stresses, but they are now being counter-balanced by an awesomeness that just won't quit. And this particular awesomeness is also fueling my desire to refocus on my dream. If you're emotionally drained in any way, you're naturally instinct is that you just don't want to deal with any of 'it' right now. That it could be anything.
However, if you are emotionally rejuvenated, then the world doesn't look so dang bleak and scary. You feel mighty enough to take on and conquer anything that might be thrown at you or stealthily shoved in your way. Yes, tomorrow is a reception ceremony in New York that I have every right to be at, but can't be, and yes that sucks, but it's still all good. When one door closes, another one opens; even if its a door at the very back, that you never knew was there because boxes are usually stacked in front of it. You just have to look. The minute you stop searching, stop scanning the horizen and the sides of the road and start staring down at your feet, all you'll ever see is your feet.
So I type this in a state of euphoria. Why? you might ask. Well, why did Maria sing "I feel pretty?" If you know that, then you know why I feel euthoric right now. How long will it last? Hopefully a very long time. Who's to say?
The point is that these ups and downs happen, but you can't let them drag you down into the mire. You have to stay on your feet, even if your tired or it's painful, and keep going. Keep praying and hoping and keeping one eye wide for a door or window or even a peep hole to spring open out of nowhere. The dream is still far from fulfilled, but that doesn't mean I haven't gotten anywhere, and I should be proud of what I have managed to accomplish. That's another thing; eventually we stop giving ourselves credit for already completed accomplishments. It's okay to look back and relish in all the hard work we've put in and the outcomes it's generated. It blosters us and encourages us to go further.
So, whoever might be reading this, if anyone is, please remember to allow euphoria into your life. There's nothing else quite like it.

"I just wanna be famous."

That's from an Eminem song, off of the Recovery album. When he says it, it's with heavy irony and almost mockery. And in some ways I don't blame him. I love Eminem; I'm a huge fan, and I know his story really well, so I understand that he was astonished when fame snatched him up and never released him. And his fame wasn't little. It was huge, and mighty, and overpowering. How am I supposed to judge him for being a little resentful? After all, there ARE a lot of down sides to fame.
But . . . still. It's all I've thought about all my life. Being enough of a big deal to be wanted on talk shows and making appearances in music videos, and announcing winners at awards shows. All those fun things, all of which is basically doing stuff and keeping busy. I'm not obsessed with the idea of people throwing free things at me, or being mobbed by screaming admirers, or being hounded by desperate men with cameras. No, I have never lent my thoughts to any of those aspects. Never.
It's just that . . . when trying to be successful, it's only logical that fame would help. The idea behind marketing, as I have been thoroughly informed of of late, is that it can be the most amazing product in the world, but if no one knows it's there, then no one will buy it. It's all about knowledge, intrigue, want, ect.
Sometimes I feel really selfish and full of myself when I think about wanting to be famous, which is a lot. Other times it feels like an enormous weight is lifting out of my ribcage. People are always griping that everyone wants to be famous, but do they? Do they know what fame means and do they want that for dumb reasons or good ones? I'd like to pride myself for wanting it for all the right reasons. So I can go out and do. So I can be active and productive and make something of my life. I want to fulfill my potential, and the only way for that to happen is to do, and the only was to do, is for people to want you to. In essence, fame.
Only so many people get famous, though. Only a small, lucky percentage get launched from oblivion into the spotlight, and even fewer manage to stay there. I know I have what it takes; all the requirements. I just have to keep pushing, and to maintain the energy needed to do so. There are so many artists that I look up to that did just that and finally did blow up. Em certainly is one. I look at his life and what he went through, I know I'm spoiled beyond belief. When you want something hard enough, you just have to go for it . . . again and again and again until something clicks. I really want that click to happen soon, or simply to happen at all. My worst fear is that I've come this far only to have things fizzle out. Eeesh, makes me shudder.
But, then again, I didn't even have to get this far. I know I'm here because of God's grace and blessings, so I just have to be patient and trusting for the next step. Just gotta keep praying. Although, how can you justify praying for fame? I wonder all the time. But, it's what I want. I can't lie, not to God. He knows anyway; He knows my heart and my reasoning. I have asked Him to be in charge of my life, and that means doing what He wants me to do. I don't know if that means fame or not. To be blatant, I hope so. I want to Do. Heck, I want to meet Eminem and tell him that he's a hero of mine.
I'm watching West Side Story as I type this. And I'm smiling. It's my favorite movie of all time, and who knows how many times I've watched it. Who cares. It gets better each time. Whenever I see things like it, I'm reminded of what I'm fighting for.
Until next time, thank you for reading and hopefully liking. I wish you a lovely night, or day, depending on where you are. :)

Persistent Disappointment.

Okay, so June hasn't exactly been everything, or really anything, that I had hoped it would be. I thought that I was going to spend this glorious month in a tizzy of business and progress, all wrapped up in one word: Expos. As in, book expos. Due to some not so clear statements made by my CMP manager, I thought that I was going to be attending a total of three expos during June, and, to be honest, I hadn't been so excited about anything in a very long time. I felt life and energy returning to my veins, and happiness flooding my mind, soul, body, and spirit. I felt hope and possibilities, and once again I was able to relish all the little things, like the rustling of leaves by a warm evening breeze, or the gooiness of freshly melted cheese. Don't get me wrong, I usually appreciate all that stuff, but during that surge of excitement it was like it was all hitting me in high def.
I wish it had lasted. I really wish it had. My biggest goal career-wise, other than becoming a master storyteller, is to tour, and going to expos and representing there is an excellent launching pad. After all, you get to use airports and hotels, which is all I've really ever wanted. Yes, hotels and airports are actually what I daydream about. I'd say dream too, but my dreams typically are never that ordinary. You can actually control daydreams.
Anyway, to say that I thought that my life was actually now beginning would be a very acurate statement. When no one was contacting me about going, however, I did start to get extremely antsy. Finally, last Tuesday, I learned the truth. I was not going to any expos to represent my book. A team was going and THEY would represent my book. I was welcomed to attend as a visitor, of course.
Blast! My disappointment was intense, and yes I did shed tears, but emotions of any kind hit me hard, so it was to be expected. But, since I was also angry, I bounced back fairly quickly. I started looking at other possible expos and fairs and conventions to go to, and actually found something that sounded awesome. Then, however, I learned a hard truth: These things take extravagant amounts of money, and I have no money.
Oh, money. The guillotine of dreams and aspirations. Now, the only reason, besides wisedom, that I'm not throwing it all in and going for broke is because I know that I'm going to need money for the book in the near future. Being an indie author isn't easy, and when your book is the insane, irrational, irrevocable, even-if-you-beg-they-won't-change-it price that mine is, the difficulty of the situation is increased ten-fold. But, in the midst of all the sludgy darkness, there came a pinprick of light.
I had entered the New York Book Festival contest back in May. The winners were announced this week. I placed Honorable Mentions. Now, since I'm an uber-conpetitve person, I was disappointed that I didn't get first or even second. However, after reading why they chose the grand prize winner, I did understand a little. My book, while awesome and very well written, simply isn't an angsty book. Judges are looking for characters and storylines of angst, and that isn't in my novel. My novel, described honestly, is fun. It's refreshing. It makes you laugh and enjoy yourself and think that maybe the world isn't so bad after all. The angst and heartache and hard subjects simply have been put to the side, and that's OKAY!
Yes, I most certainly like books that deal with that stuff; I love books that make you feel and make you think, and yes I will be tackling such in my own books in the future, but really people. Aren't there enough novels out there like that? I know I'm a little fed up with teenage guts twisting and them dealing with abandonment and dead relatives and the meaning to life, the universe, and everything.
So, no, I'm not apologizing for the novel I wrote, just because it's CONTENT isn't destined to win overall in contests. A teenage romantic comedy on a tropical island? Yeah, not exactly poignant and heart-wrenching. I get it. I really do. But I don't care. I'm proud of my book, I don't write to win contests.
So, after getting over that, I learned that I could still go the reception in New York. Yay! One night, mingle with fellow authors, have a nice dinner, make friends and impressions, count me in! And then, after doing some travel research, the blade once again came down on the spinal cord of my enthusiasm. Traveling is expensive. Very expensive. Use all the discount travel sites you want, if you don't have any money to begin with, it's not gonna help.
I was so disappointed. Again. It was a disappointment that left me rather burned out. Feeling rather squashed on the sidewalk with no motivation to crawl back to the safety of the weeds, if you want to look at it from a bug's standpoint.
I do have a job; I am making money. But, like I said before, the book requires other expenses, and, when I look deep within my heart, I know I'd rather spend money on them and not go broke taking a flight to New York. Though I really wanted to go. Even though I'd probably get mugged. (I know that's pessimistic, but sometimes pessimism is soothing.)
Everything's a bit overwhelming right now, but mostly disappointment is. When you want money purely because you want to go do something with your life, but you don't have any, so you can't, it just plain sucks. Everyone around me is in a relationship, or getting engaged, or making strides at there job, and here I am, opting to be an author. I've settled myself into my own little puddle of ambition and stress, and right now, at this very moment, I feel so blue.
And yes, logically I know that it won't last. I know that through hard work and determination everything will resurface and progress will actually happen. Sometimes you just need to vent, and this is definitely one of those times.
I know I sound really bitter right now, and the last post was equally bitter, and so you're probably coming to the conclusion that I'm a bitter person. Well, despite the lack of evidence and all the proof stacked against me, which I myself willingly provided, the reality is no; generally I'm not a bitter person. I know you don't believe me, but I'm just getting started, so hang in there and trust me. I just needed to get this off my chest because right now I'm feeling so low, and the best way to cast off such burdens is to relay them in plain . . . whatever, type, speech, boxing classes, and move on. And blogs, as it happens, are prime territory for such emotional flushing.
So thanks for listening. I do feel much better. Hopefully my posts in the future will be much more cheerful and optimistic. Have a delightful day. :)

i don't like blogs

Yes, this is the truth, even if in today's society it is considered a vulgar one. I simply do not like blogs. I don't understand the appeal of blogs, the need for blogs, and the overall obsession with blogs. Yes, I recognize the fact that sometimes people have so much swirling around in their noggin that it is causing their vision to become blurry and for them to walk into wall, so therefore they need a depository of somesort. Usually mine is pacing around my room muttering to myself. Sharing such mutterings to . . . anyone has always been a perposterous notion, especially since most of them would only unnerve people, or downright freak them out. My mind is not a picnic; proceed with caution.
So, indeed, the question deserves asking, why, if I am so opposed to blogs and blogging and anything that starts with B and ends with G, am I typing one right now? Well, the skinny of the matter is that it has been recommended to me multiple times by multiple sources for multiple reasons, but, if we're being honest, mostly one. I have written a book, managed to get it published, and now what the world to enjoy it. It must be admitted that a book is only good if it is being perused and devoured and giving people the emotions intended by the author. So, therefore, we endure a hefty force known as Marketing. Are blogs part of marketing? Apparently. It seems that they are no longer solely for expressing one's deep, profound, twisting, churning emotions that can't be explained to either close friends or therapists, but must be typed out online; or for exploiting forms of entertainment and declaring opinions, whether educated or instinctual, about whatever or whoever. (Which, by the by, can either help a career or hurt feelings, so be cautious when blogging.)
No, it seems the that the notorious four letter b word that sounds so startlingly similar to "blob" but isn't, has become a key factor in word-spreading.
Though, to give due credit, it might also be a way to connect. I think that's what Goodreads wants me to do on here. To connect with people. Which, truthfully, I have no problem with. I love people; I love connecting with people. I do want people to get to know me as an author, though I would be satisfied just with people knowing that I exist as an author, period. I've been at this for so long that, now that it is finally, really happening, it can sometimes feel surreal. There's so much to me and to my writing that it's hard to put into something like a blog, which I've never kept before. Shoot, I only make diary entries every three to five years. Reality just isn't my forte, ya know what I'm saying?
So, to break it down for you, I'm not a hateful person. I'm acctually very loving and have a huge, tender, bright red heart, but I just DON'T LIKE BLOGS. But, I'm about to attempt to keep one. Because maybe someone will read it. And maybe that someone will be important to me one day, and maybe, and more hopefully, I might be important to them one day.
My name is Emily Kinney; I'm a 21 year author from Maine; my novel is called The Island of Lote, and it's on Goodreads and on facebook. And, as of now, I am a blogger. (sigh) Heaven help me.