Sarah Richards's Blog: The Chocolate Moose, page 3

Judgement. Hope. Faith.

"Am I trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men I would not be a servant of Christ."
Galatians 1:10

Brutal honesty has pierced me this morning before my first cup of coffee has been consumed.
This verse cuts through my daily actions and makes me reconsider my intentions.

Am I writing novels to merely entertain myself or others;
or am I trying to spread the message of God?

Am I stitching up creations for my own glory and praise, as if I were a Goddess;
or am I using my skills to further the kingdom of God, to follow the example Jesus lived?

These questions I am asking myself this morning to hold myself accountable.
I have dug barren mines instead of climbing mountains; stumbled over pride, jealousy, and anger to fall into a pit of judgement.

Why are my books not selling?
I worked for 6 years on those and no one is reading them; is no one willing to support a starving artist?

Why is so-and-so's book successful?
All I read were transparent plots and flat characters.

In my prideful, jealous anger I have passed judgement on the work of others.

"You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgement on someone else, for at whatever point you judge others, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgement do the same things."
Romans 2:1

Oh, shame!
The condemnation is worse than reproach from my mother for being caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
(It was one my Great Grandma Betty made: a ceramic Cookie Monster cookie jar.)

Hopelessness descends as recognition of my failure settles.
All I can do is cry out to God, praying for forgiveness and guidance to not commit the same sin twice.

"Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we cannot see."
Hebrews 11:1

I am not without hope after all, if I cling to my faith.
It is only through faith my crushed spirit can be healed and lifted to a higher summit than I can achieve on my own with a cup of coffee.

Chewy Granola Bars

My sous chef exclaiming, "Granola!".
(Taken years ago!)Since discovering I have gluten, dairy and soy allergies, my diet has been drastically changed. 

Thankfully, this doesn’t affect my coffee intake!
I thought I would be forever doomed to eat only crunchy granola bars that lacked the deliciousness of granola bars I used to eat, until now.
Ingredients:1 2/3 cup oatmeal1/2cup brown sugar1/3 cup flour (rice flour works great for gluten free option)1 tsp. cinnamon1 cup chocolate chips (Enjoy Life brand makes soy, dairy and gluten free chips)1/3 cup peanut butter (chunky works best)1 tsp. vanilla6 Tbsp. melted butter (Olivio brand makes coconut butter or use 4-5T coconut oil )1/4 cup honey or maple syrup
Directions:Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Then grease an 8”×8” pan. (Oddly, my husband actually enjoys and usually prefers the crunchy granola bars. All you have to do to achieve a crunch is to thin the bars. I just pressed the mix down on a greased 9”x12” instead of an 8”x8” and baked it for the same time to achieve a crunch.)
Stir dry ingredients together then whisk the liquid ingredients.  Add it together and press it VERY FIRMLY into the pan. Bake for 25-35 minutes. They will be browned on the edges and a little on top but seem soft, let them cool completely before cutting.
Wrap them individually. I find the cheap fold top sandwich bags work great.
I find these granola bars go best with a cup of coffee, but then again almost everything goes great with a cup of coffee!

Invite. Drink. Listen. Share.

Share a cup?  Photographer Unknown. I found the image here.Now that expression never truly made sense to me.

A cup? Share? Really? When I hear that I envision two people slurping each other’s backwash from the same cup of coffee. It should really be "share a pot". Each person getting their own cup. 

This is what we need to do more of. More face time instead of technology time. 

With three simple steps I have a happier disposition, a more positive outlook on life and better relationships with my guy, friends and family.
Step One: Invite a someone over for coffee or meet halfway at a café somewhere. This "someone other" can be as everyday as your other half. It could be a friend, a sibling or even your mother. Yes, this includes mother-in-laws. By inviting someone over or meeting in a café, you are allowing the time to be with that person. Not your phone or your computer, but with people. 

The air is open for a conversation; an unedited conversation of words, not acronyms. 

When someone texts me LOL I figure their not really laughing out loud, only mildly amused. Maybe they actually are but that’s the big problem with texting and social media of blurbs. Without a face or at least a voice, there is no context.
Besides I don’t want someone to merely laugh out loud, but to laugh so hard there is no sound. Perhaps a squeak sneaks out between gasps for air; this is what happens to me. Then there is the mute seal, silent laughter while clapping hands together. A rare laugh, but highly enjoyable if you get to witness it. Which you can’t over texting or social media blurbs; unless it’s a video upload, but the real thing is just better. Trust me.
Step Two: Pour or order coffee. Drink. Listen.I used to just get stories to elaborate and fabricate over the years, memories. Recently I’ve been getting a sense of understanding. When I stopped my mouth from talking about my life, my problems, my frustrations by drinking a cup of coffee with a friend, my sister or even my mother an amazing thing happened. 

I listened; by listening I learned.

We all have frustrations and problems in our lives. What I discovered by listening is how similar all our problems and frustrations are. The places, people and circumstances are unique to each person’s perspective, but the root of each is the same.
For example, my medical issues, from a scientific view point, are more severe than my friend's. However, the emotional fatigue and stresses for both of us are the same. The financial strain is the same. 
So, what do you get by listening, other than a full bladder from all the coffee you’ve just drank to keep yourself from talking? You build meaningful friendships and better relationships. 
What about me? I know. I’d like to think I am not a selfish or self-centered person, but let’s be real. Everyone has a part of them that wonders what they are going to get out of it. Some of us have that bit of themselves more concealed than others, but we all have it. I’ll tell you what I got out of listening.
I was able to take the experiences others were sharing with me, how they have dealt with life or tried to deal with situations, and applied it to my own life. I was able to build upon the knowledge of others to improve my own life.

Since I have made the conscious effort to talk less and listen more I find I am judging people less and because of that, I think less about how others might be judging me.

I believe it is the same reason people go to confession at church. Tell things to a listening ear makes you feel like you are not alone, but for the listener you get to hear all the ways that have worked and not worked. Invaluable. 
Step Three: Pay it forward.There’s a time to listen, but if we all listened at the same time it would be to the sound of the espresso machines and steamers. Someone has to talk for someone else to listen.

Share what you have learned from other’s experiences when you applied it to your own life. 

You can even share now. In the comments box or email me directly sarahjorichards@gmail.com. I’ll listen. In the future I may have the privilege to share your experiences with another (anonymous of course) over a pot of coffee.

A No Brainer.

Awhile ago I received an email from Jeff Goins. In it I read:

[What’s] your story. If you have one — and we alldo — I want to hear it.
Especially if it's about how your world has been turned upside down.

Mercedes-Benz Ad  Created by Shalmor Avnon Amichay/Y&R Interactive
A world upside down would have been preferable to the implosion of my life. I was a dying star that collapsed on itself, becoming a black hole. I lost myself. 

Left from right? No brainer.Up from down? No brainer.The ABC song? No brainer. (Now it's running through you head!)

I’ve come to learn how the simple acts typically called “no brainers” are anything but. In the hospital on my son’s first Thanksgiving I learned the hardest lesson of my life. One I struggle with daily. Ask for help. I am a fiercely stubborn person. My husband says I could give mules a lesson or two. I learned from the priest beside my hospital bed that I cannot do it alone. 
I truly thought I was dying. 
Nurses would check my vital signs every three hours. Draw blood for test they didn’t even understand, day or night at the doctors’ orders. Getting an epidural during child birth was less painful than a spinal tap. Hours were spent in MRI machines. Cat scans where I felt like I was peeing on the slab I was lying on from the contrast they pumped through my veins. Test where they stuck electrodes to my head and told me to sleep. Right. I played piano in my head instead, twitching my fingers as though the keys were on the examination tables. A simple act for me before my life changed. 
Music used to be a no brainer.
When MRI results came back, orderlies, nurses and doctors alike marveled at how I could walk to the bathroom. Albeit not gracefully. I was given a mattress alarm that would go off anytime I got up without asking for help. Help going to the bathroom. So degrading. 
The lesions that covered my brain were so deep and sever that they made rings. Neurologists fought for my case because “it is a once in a career kind of case”. Many I met said, “your brain is fascinating”. They were giddy with my files on their desks.
I wasn’t. 
Being socially polite was a strain and a struggle. I had lost my filter. Anything I thought came out. I had only sworn once in my life before. (It had been at directed Kinko’s who had botched my final project for Graphic Design IV and the due date was in an hour.) Suddenly I found I talked like my sister, a sailor. The sanctity of inner monologue was violated. 
Writing instead of using my mouth was a challenge. Drawing out my thoughts an impossibility. I am a trained designer, artist and writer. No longer able to know how to use a pencil brought despair. 
Signing my name to hospital papers should have been a no brainer.
I could go on about the negative things. How there was a two year sex drought in my relationship with my husband. There was just no drive, desire or motivation. Depression and despair clung like the dark shadow in my vision. It was the priest words from my bedside, “ask for help” that became the formula for feeling better about my life. 

Rediscovering the good things in life meant I had to humble myself to find myself.
I had to admit the hardest thing, “I cannot do this alone.”

Three years later, I finally had my answer. An acute and aggressive case of Multiple Sclerosis. 
Many things have permanently changed. I now have to eat a gluten, dairy and soy free diet. A self-injection used to be administered every other day, but now thanks to modern medicine it is a pill twice a day. And once every six months I have to lie perfectly still for five hours in an MRI machine as an extensive look of my brain is recorded.
This is not the life I had planned, but it takes the hard times to appreciate the good things in life. I no longer run my own business, or work for top design firms. That’s okay. I am happy.
The black spider has left me now. As I teach my son to play the piano, I get to relearn too. For my husband and me the drought is over. There was even a monsoon season. My artistic skills were requested by the local library. All the hours in an MRI machine gave me the time to mentally write three novels. My third book, Drowned by Fear is scheduled to be released next month.
From the beginning there have been three constants in my life; pulling me from the gravitational force of the black hole that appeared as a large spider in my vision for years: my husband, coffee and God. With their support I no longer take the simple, “no brainer”, things in life for granted. 
I hope my story inspires you to take a moment to sip a cup of coffee and reflect on all the things you take for granted that are really quite remarkable. 
Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments box below or by emailing me (sarahjorichards@gmail.com).

Cover illustrations are done!

Let the cover designing begin!
The illustrations of Autumn and the cabin are finished.
The background illustration for 'Drowned by Fear' took many more hours than I had thought when I drew the ghost sketch.
Here is a look at the two finalized illustrations while I begin work on the cover design:

  

First Look at 'Drowned by Fear'.

As I have been awaiting to hear back from an editor, I have begun work on one of many illustrations that will be combined to make up the cover for Drowned by Fear.

Here is a first look at the preliminary illustration of Autumn for the cover:

Be sure to check back!

As I make progress on the illustrations, I will post more pictures. Each picture will give a better idea of what the cover will look like as a whole.

Take Chances. Make Mistakes. Get Messy.

Can you make a grape float in the middle of a glass of water?
This is the question of the day. 
In my house, we find the answer to questions through research and experimentation.

As Ms. Frizzle says, "Take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy!"

Oh, the Magic School Bus!
I think I read each and every one of those books when I was growing up. The thing that amazes me now is how applicable the lessons I learned from those books are in my life to this day.
I have found I use Ms. Frizzle's philosophy in my writing process.

Take Chances.
Some times characters take on a life of their own. In a way they become like my own child. I have to learn about what kind of responses and actions are natural for them to take and which ones are not. The only way to figure this out is by taking chances.

Sometimes writing a character to do something which is uncharacteristic for them can lead to some very interesting plot twists.

Make Mistakes.
If an idea hits follow it though.
In design college I found some of the ideas I disliked the most were the best if I kept working on it.
For example, in my closet I do not have bins of shoes but Rubbermaids full of scenes for my books. Not all are boxed because they were poorly written. Many didn't make the final selection because it didn't fit, at the time.

A mistakes or misfit chapters in one book can correct a problem in a later book in a series or it has the potential to begin a whole new adventure.
This is why I toss left over chapters into a bin not the trash.

Get Messy.
Write from what you know.
Many times this means going places and experiencing things for your self to understand what the seasons are like, how the people behave and learn the quirks in the culture.

While Woodmere is a fictitious Minnesota town I used as the setting for the Trilogy, I wrote about a region of Minnesota I know very well, a place where I have lived.  While never explicitly stated  because I wanted the reader to bring the level intensity to the book themselves, it is obvious the main character Autumn has experience sexual abuse in her past. While the events in the book are once again fictitious, I wrote what I know, what I have personally experienced.

Life is messy and life is hard, but it is also rewarding.
By reading and researching things as an author you gain knowledge.
By experiencing the places and events you write about you have obtained wisdom.

Was the experiment a fail? No.
My son got the grape the float on the top of the water and to sink to the bottom.
Try as he might he could not get the grape to float in the middle of the glass.

He realized science is more complex than he had originally comprehended. He learned the concept of density and now is brain is hard at work while he places with his Hotwheels trying to figure out how to get a grape to suspend a grape in the middle of water.

I do the same thing when I write.

When I get stuck or start experiencing writers block, I go back tot he drawing board...literally!
I draw illustrations, I design invitation, I crochet or I cross-stitch and the whole time I am physically doing something other than writing my brain is trying to figure out a solution around my writing obstacle. 

There is a children's book I read to my son when he was a baby, Going on a Bear Hunt.
In it he learned if you can't go over it, through it or around it, you have to go through it.

Solution and answers to questions and problems exists.
Most the time it just means taking chances, making mistakes and getting messy to find them!

It's all about perspective.

Chalk Artist Unknown.Perspective can be lineal or aerial when depicting spatial relationships on a flat surface. Some chalk artists use perspective to create illusions to trick pedestrians.

Or, perspective refers to the state of one's ideas; the facts as one understands them to be. Illusion can be created using this perspective too.

Why isn't there enough time to finish drinking the cup of coffee you poured before it gets cold? Why is there never enough time to finish your tasks for the day? Why does life have to be so stressful?

It isn't as though time is selectively passing faster for you, causing your coffee to cool before you can drink it or work to be over before it is completed.

It's all in perspective. When you stop having a self centered perspective, relationships with others improve and stress decreases.
Find out how to use your senses to gain perspective.

Listening.
For most, an average day is a busy day. There are meetings, appointments, deadlines and due dates. At home there is the honey-do-list.

It can be frustrating. Work hard all day only to go home and have a list of chores. Or to work hard all day at home trying to hold freelance clients, chase a three year old and a dog while keeping a clean home only to have the other come home and watch the television.

Some days it feels as if the only one working hard is you.

But is a list of chores, or the sound of the television really what is being said?

The sound of the television is my husband's way to switch gears from working to being at home. He isn't ignoring me by sitting down. His silence isn't because he doesn't want to be involved in the household chores. It is actually an invitation for me to join him.

By sitting with him, he is able to decompress faster. We can talk about our day, what the other was up to. By the time Jeopardy! is over, he will be relaxed and I will have had time to explain why I didn't get the garbage out today, and ask him for help.

When we only take the time to hear things from our own perspective it is difficult to get a whole picture and impossible to work together. 

Seeing.
A new toy has been discarded. A old favorite is being ignored. There is only one book he can read, and that is because it is memorized.

Chores still need to be done. I have dishes and dusting to do. Vacuuming and sweeping. Laundry and ironing.

"Moooommmmmyyyy. Come play with me," my son says as he follows me from room to room.

I hear whining. I see an ungrateful little boy who must be too spoiled to be content to play by himself. Can't he see that Mommy is busy?

He can.

Not playing with his toys or books isn't a sign he is ungrateful or even spoiled. He follows me around because spending time with me as my shadow is better than playing with trucks, trains or even Legos.

Kids, even some husbands, might be content to use the same pair of underwear for a week, but mom's are not. Some chores must get done, but it doesn't need to be an either chores or playing situation.

All a kid wants is to spend time with their parents. What they do isn't all that important. Turn the everyday mundane list of tasks you feel is important to complete into a game. 

The dishes are handed to me from the dishwasher faster than I can put them away. Every shirt I put on a hanger is hung up in the closet by the time the next one is ready to be put away. While I vacuum, he Swiffers. While he dusts, I wash windows.

Work together and it gets done faster. Everybody wins. 
Less stress, less whining, less dirt and more fun.

Perspective is all about how you choose to see and hear. 

If you are stressed and frustrated because you feel other's are not listening to you, ask yourself a question. Am I only thinking from a "me" perspective?

Take the time to slow down and think from another person's point of view.

Understanding comes only after you've considered others first. 
It is a difficult thing to do, but the effort is worth it. 

I have experienced a notable difference in my stress levels because I stopped thinking about how everything effects me. By considering other people's perspectives I am able to be more productive; leaving more time for family and relaxing. Overall, I am happier. 

Taking the time considering another person's perspective, leaves you with the time to enjoy a hot cup of coffee in the morning.

Every day is a good day when it is started with a cup of coffee. Don't you think so too?

Free Sample!

Is Drowned by Fear out yet?
Have you finished the next book?
These are the two most common questions I am getting right now.

I am actively working on writing the final installment of the Woodmere Trilogy.

Editors are lined up to review it at the beginning of June 2014.
I am as excited to put this book out as you are to read it!

Here is a sneak peek into Drowned by Fear:

The blindfold covering not just his eyes, but from the top of his forehead to the top of his upper lip, was removed. Relief briefly filled his lungs with fresh air. The putrid stench permeating from the rag still lingered in his sinuses, but was quickly dissipating with every breath. As his nose cleared, so did his thoughts.

Where am I? Looking around was pointless; for although the blindfold had been removed, he remained blind to his surrounds without light.

Think, he silently commanded of his mind.

Dressed as Mr. Thornton, Mason had gone out to meet Greasy Gill in the warehouse district of Minneapolis. With the revival of the industrial park into a thriving art epicenter complete with new condos, meeting in the North Loop was becoming risky. With Mr. Vaughn’s latest venture, art thefts from this area were the next logical step after residential thefts. That is if thievery was still his objective.

That’s why the last crew was left to the prosecutors. The marks had been so carefully planned. The only chance of capture was if they had been tipped off. Lights above his head briefly flickered to the rhythm of his thoughts before being plunged into the darkness once more. But why am I here?

A damp rag had covered his nose and mouth as strong arms encircled him like a bear. Breathing underwater would have been less of a struggle. He thought hard about the faint odor on the cloth. It was the smell of unconsciousness.

Chloroform. The faint smell of it dissipates long before the effect on its victim wears off. With shaky balance, he stood and began feeling his way around. A rough brick surface was cold and left his hands with a moist slimy residue. By why?

This question always remained. Why had the book been taken? Why had he been taken? Why had Mr. Vaughn taken an interest in him all those years ago? Why?

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A voice said from his left. “Those boys get a little carried away when they are told they get to drug someone.”

“Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?” he demanded of the unidentified darkness.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Those are the wrong questions.” The reply seemed to be circling him. “So much was invested in you and that’s the best you can come up with?”

Turning his back to the wall Mason strained his ears to the silence. A casual scrape of a shoe came from his right followed by another. Someone was walking towards him. Expectations of his abilities caused his mind to falter.

Why can’t there be light? How am I going to get out of here? What do I do once I am free? Can I ever be free of Mr. Vaughn? Questions of his current situation, some pertinent while others were not, followed close behind the panic squeezing his throat like anaphylactic shock.

“While you get your thoughts and breathing under control, let’s talk about something else. How’s your wife and new baby?” That question caused Mason to stop breathing entirely. “I heard it’s a baby girl.”

“H-how did you hear about my d-d-daughter?” Mason managed to stuttered in a hoarse whisper.

“I know more than you could possible imagine.” A warm breath on his left ear came with the voice. “Sometimes it is best to let one’s child get away with little things to build confidence and trust. As a father you need to learn this. I let you keep that silly little book because you did a good job. Prison is not a desirable vacation destination. But now you are learning of things you are not meant to know. To help you out, the bottom feeder you have been associating with has been returned to his natural habitat.”

Closing his mouth, Mason knew where he was. The surface of the brick walls should have told him sooner, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. This was the warehouse of execution near the St. Anthony Falls.

A place where murder can easily be passed off as suicide.

“Take good care of your daughter or in a few years I will need to add her to my collection, just like your niece Autumn.” As the man behind the threat began to back away, Mason’s ear felt as cold as his soul. “Success has a price, remember that.”

Hinges creaked as a heavy steel door was opened. A silhouette of black was revealed by the light streaming in from behind. The sound of rushing water drowned out the sound of footsteps approaching from the far back corner. As Mason stepped away from the wall to get a better look at the features of the dark figure, a rag was placed over his face as arms trapped him from behind. The slightly sweet smell of unconsciousness once again overtook him.

I would love to hear your comments about that little taste.
What do you think is going to happen in the third book?

Musical Motivation.

Every one's life has a soundtrack.
My son for example lives his humming his own theme song.
It changes through out the day based on his mood and what he is doing.

This got me thinking.
What is my theme song?
So, I took an online quiz and the results were Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi.


No!
Don't get me wrong, it isn't a bad song.
I remember rocking out to it with my sister as we listen to Casey Kasem Top 40 on the radio.
A spinning contest was a favorite way to listen to the top songs of the nineties in Minnesota or by making up roller skating routines in the carport when we lived in Louisiana.

Music has always been a part of who I am.
In the second grade, I tortured my parents by picking up a clarinet for the first time. I moved onto the bass clarinet before I decided that wasn't enough musical inspiration. So, I joined choir in the ninth grade and then I got hooked on piano.

To this day, I still sing; limited soprano, mostly alto with some tenor.
I still have my Bb clarinet and play it for my son when he asks politely.
I even have a piano in my house.

That was all before Multiple Sclerosis (MS) broke my brain.
Now, I cannot play with the proficiency that I used to posses.
This inability to play piano, the one instrument that caused my soul to sing, was devastating.
While I felt like I had lost my voice to MS, I was also robbed of my ability to draw and write.

These were dark years for me.
I began to listen to music more as I practiced all the skills that I took for granted.

Being able to tell my right from your left.
I quit driving for a few years.
Enjoying the privilege and privacy of inner monologue.
I couldn't think something without it coming out my mouth.
Putting my pants on one leg at a time while standing.
I had to sit down on the floor to put my jeans of for years.

The Woodmere Trilogy was written after music started to help healed my brain.
The novels started as pictures in my head to classical pieces I used to be able to play. This helped to pass the hours I spent in MRI and CAT Scans as the doctors for years tried to diagnose me. The pictures slowly became silent movies.

Thanks to modern medicine, I am getting better!
I can draw, write and even drive again!
Life is not just good, it is great.

I can now answer the question readers have been asking.
What is my musical motivation?
My answer is broken down into the three things I do:

1. Writing
I do not write to music with lyrics, because I do not want another person's words sneaking into my novels!
My writing is inspired by the creative classical adaptations by Jennifer Thomas and The Piano Guys.

2. Drawing
My illustrations are heavily influenced by the music I am listening to as I draw. So I have to select my music to match the mood and emotion I want to infuse my illustrations with. This is where my eclectic tastes really shine from Iron & Wine to Breaking Benjamin.

3. Designing
Ever since college there has been one artist who I listen to the most when I design anything, like the book covers for my novels, James Blunt.

What music inspires and motivates your life?