R.M. Webb's Blog, page 4

An Interview with Greg Tremblay

Introducing Greg Tremblay! Singer-Actor-Narrator-Homesteader-Blacksmither-Extraordinaire! 

R. M. Webb: Hey there! Tell me about yourself.

My name is Greg, I’m a trained singer and stage actor who has been making a living in computers for most of my life.  In 2013 I was lucky enough to get into audiobook narration, and have been doing that as much as I can ever since.  I have a wife and 10 year old daughter, and own a little homestead in the cow-occupied portion of NY state, where we keep chickens, sheep and bees.  I also do blacksmithing and shoe horses part time.

R. M. Webb: Wow! You must be so busy! It’s a big joke at my house, I’m kind of obsessed with chickens. I really want to raise the kind that have feathers on their legs. You know, the ones that look like they’re wearing feathered pants? Tell me alllllll about raising livestock. (But please, focus on the chickens.)

Heh, chickens are awesome… .foxes are too, but not when you put the two together.  :-/  Chickens are charmingly chill and pleasant animals to have about.  They make little gentle noises and are KICK BUTT at killing off fleas and ticks around the property.  Plus the eggs are awesome.  We’ve raised a few for meat off and on, but I just decided that the work was more than I wanted to bite off this year, so I think we may pay a neighbor to raise a few for us.  I am a considered omnivore, because much of modern über industrial food raising horrifies me… So I prefer to raise what I can, or know where it came from. (I’m not perfect, I do eat the occasional hamburger out or grab a store chicken when things are just tooooo busy.  But.)

R. M. Webb: I’m still trying to wrap my head around a singer, actor, computer guy, voice-over actor, who has a family, raises livestock, and blacksmiths. What kind of life led to having so many skills?

*laugh*  I think it stems from being a blend of a free spirit gypsy of a mother, and a pretty pedantic practical dad.  You put them together, and I tend to like to have a home base, but do different things.  (They didn’t work out long term, but thus far I seem to be doing ok)

Computers were, frankly, easy.  I was in a theater program in college that imploded (terrible dept turmoil and scandal) so I stepped sideways into what had been my minor, collected my degree and got the hell out.  My wife wanted to move east to pursue doctoral work, so we came here.  I filled in time around day to day life with what interested me at the time.  (I was also a paramedic for a while there)

Discovering that I could work in voiceover, especially long form narration, from home, and the increase in web based casting and talent agencies has made it so that my life long banked passion of performing can have a crack at being my career as well.

R. M. Webb: Why do you create?

I can’t NOT create… it’s just … part of my psyche.  I am an incorrigible story teller and love to make people feel… so particularly narrating books is a no brainer for me.

R. M. Webb: Quick! Chocolate or chips?

Chocolate, definitely.

R. M. Webb: Is your art your business? Do you make money (or try to!) for the things you create? Do you have a day job?

I do make money for my creative endeavors… and it’s interesting because I feel that tension of being an artist versus a performer.  I am not at the point of being able to live off my art yet… but am optimistic that I can put my general 3-5 year scheme into place and make this a full go.

R. M. Webb: I’m curious about the distinction you drew about being an artist versus a performer. Could you expand on that a little?

This came to me while having lunch with a pair of musician friends, who got into a rant-around about how people want them to play covers.  “I hate that man!  Like, I want to play MY music… Not someone else’s!”

It occurred to me, admittedly in a mildly defensive way, that… I essentially NEVER perform my own stuff.  I am an artist, sure… I bring my artistry and interpretation to the work… But it’s not my original work.  I am, for the record, ok with that.  It’s my gift to present and perform and entertain, I’m not as good at raw creation. So… I think of myself as a performer more than an artist.  Are they one and the same?  Maybe… But I find the presentation my medium, not the text.

R. M. Webb:  If you still have a day job, would you like to get to the point where you could give it up?

…. I keep the resignation letter updated.  

R. M. Webb: What caused you to want to market your art?

Realizing that I COULD.  With changes in technology and marketing, the performance world of books became possible… I no longer had to dream of working for Harper Audio and Blackstone.  (I still do tho… but now I have a path to it!)

R. M. Webb: Where/when does inspiration strike?

I’m lucky enough to be able to piggyback on other people’s inspiration… but I’m generally a night owl and I get into my groove in the late evening and the last gasps of the day.

R. M. Webb: How do you react to negative feedback?

Anguish, annoyance, denial, acceptance, avoidance.  It’s like the grief process.    Honestly, negative feedback is nearly useless… critical feedback can be good.  “I hated this, worst narrator ever” is … pointless.  “Thought the narrator was too dramatic at times” means something.  I might take it to heart, I might not… but…. it’s got some substance.

R. M. Webb: What’s your greatest obstacle as an artist?

OOohh… Hmm.  Making sure I challenge myself and not just sitting in a rut saying “Yep, good enough”   I always want to get better, to be more effective, to push my boundaries.

R. M. Webb:  Who’s your biggest champion?

My family, hands down.

R. M. Webb: Quick! Red or blue?

Blue

R. M. Webb: Do you have kids? If not, do you want to have kids?

I do, I’ve a 10 year old daughter who is awesome.

R. M. Webb: Oh, such a great age! My daughter just turned 11. Don’t you just love the juxtaposition of little girl and early teenager?

I do… They are brilliant and so creative.  I don’t always love the realities of that juxtaposition, and I feel so achingly bad for her, because she is just starting to marinate in hormones, and I know people that age can’t help being crazy… But that doesn’t make it easier to go through, or help her through.  She is a delightful soul however, and remarkably deep.  She’s dealing with the realities of defining her relationship to the world as a feminist and the roadblocks still in her path, which is both fulfilling and painful to see and help with.

R. M. Webb: If your child showed talent in an artistic endeavor, would you help her pursue a career in that field after having worked in a creative field yourself? Why or why not?

Absolutely… but like myself I want her to have skills that can make sure the rent stays paid.  I agree with pursuing your dreams, and taking chances… but you want to be able to dust yourself off if you have to.

R. M. Webb: How do you structure your day as an artist/entrepreneur/person/parent? How do you get it all done?

Rare chemical stimulants from the amazon basin…..   No, seriously? It all slots in carefully… and I sell some things short at times to get it all done.  The house could be a bit cleaner… I’m not going to lie.

R. M. Webb: Describe yourself as a parent.

I’m the person trying their best to find that middle ground between helicopter micromanaging and the raised-by-wolves hands off.  I’m strict, but not stern.

R. M. Webb: What’s the best thing about raising kids?

Getting to see and experience the world as they do, sharing in it all.

R. M. Webb: What’s the hardest thing about raising kids?

You cannot, and should not, protect them from all harm even tho you desperately want to … and it never stops.

R. M. Webb: Are your kids ever involved with your art? Do they inspire you? Work with you? Would you like to include them in your business as they grow?

I’m seriously pondering getting my daughter behind the microphone… I have to see what I think she’d be good on… but… there’s room there to work.

R. M. Webb: Oh how cool! Would a daddy/daughter reading be possible? Maybe you should write a book where that is possible.

I would love it…. There is a family of musician / voice actors the Amador (Rosie and Brian) who did a book together with their twin daughters when the girls were young… It was delightful.  Is delightful I should say.

Young people in voice acting have a huge amount of potential to work…. I just want to make sure it’s something she wants to do, not a dream I’m living out through her.

R. M. Webb: What advice would you give someone dreaming of making it in your field?

There’s 1 Hare for every 100 Tortoises… and for every Tortoise there’s a thousand animals that will never even make it to the finish line… be patient.  Be honest.  Be confident.

R. M. Webb: If you could pass one thing on to the next generation in general, what would it be?

OOf… um.  Failure is not bad.  Failure is the most educating thing there is, and it doesn’t mean YOU are a failure… just that you failed.  Don’t wrap your self worth up in whether you succeed at everything you try.  Keep trying.  Failing to try is the real failure.

R. M. Webb: What’s the best thing about your life?

Oh lord… my friends and family, and the fact that I get paid to read and tell stories.  Honestly, what a freakin scam man!  

R. M. Webb: Quick! Eat out or cook at home?

Eat out… I’m frickin tired.

R. M. Webb: What’s the hardest thing about your craft?

Getting all the corners… getting the minutiae right.  It’s the little things that really make or break a performance.

R. M. Webb: For sure. It’s all in the details. Do you find yourself learning skills from one set of crafts that help with any of your others? Do you find there’s cross-over? Please, please, please tell me that raising chickens makes you a better writer!

Anything that broadens your experience, that causes you to think through things, that makes you pause and consider the world from another point of view… Makes you a better writer/narrator.  Stories are the study of lives, of experiences… Painting emotions on the canvas of the mind.  You have to study the world to paint it, you have to live life as well, to write it convincingly.

R. M. Webb: What’s the best thing about your craft?

I get to live in a new fantasy world every week.

R. M. Webb: What’s the hardest thing about the business side of your craft?

Knowing if you’re putting your energies in the right directions.

R. M. Webb: What’s the best thing about the business side of your craft?

The people you get/have to deal with.

R. M. Webb: Quick! Your peanut butter’s on your banana. What do you do?

That… really sounds like a euphemism.  (R. M. Webb: OH DEAR! IT DOES! *BLUSHES) But… PB & B are delish.  Get some bread.  (Interesting side thought:  given the number of other ways we eat them, and the time we’ve been working with them… you have to infer that someone tried to make bananajam… and that it was HORRID)

R. M. Webb: If people wanted to find you online and learn more about you, where would they look?

 Well, you can find me online interactively most on facebook.com/gtremblayvoice

I’m available online for contact and booking via www.gtremblayvoice.com

and you can see my ACX profile for book work at http://bitly.com/GTremblayVoiceBooks

Have a question for Greg? Drop a question in the comment section and I’ll make sure he sees it!

**Standard Disclaimer: The views expressed in this interview do not necessarily reflect the views of R. M. Webb.

An Interview with R. M. Webb – hehe!

In the coming weeks, I’ll have a series of interviews with other artists who are also entrepreneurs, many of whom are also parents. Just to get the ball rolling, you know, so you know what to expect, I’ll interview myself first!

Tell me about yourself.

My name is R. M. Webb … well that’s not my name name … just the name I like to be called around the internet. Some call me R, others, RM, others call me that crazy woman who interviews herself on her own blog.

I spent many years training to become a professional ballerina, sacrificing social time, cream in my coffee, and sleep all in the hopes of living the dream. I did get to live the dream – for nine short months. I then proceeded to rupture my Achilles tendon, undergo reconstructive ankle surgery, and then, after three months of not being allowed to put weight on my left leg, learn how to walk again. My orthopedist said I’d be lucky to ever walk without a limp, let alone dance.

Ha!

If my time in the world of professional ballet taught me one thing, it taught me that anything could be done if you put your head down and worked towards it day by day, little by little. Long story short, I don’t limp and I have danced and danced and danced since earning myself that ugly scar on my left ankle. (If you’ve read Facade, you’re probably getting a little light bulb in your head right now!)

As I healed, I taught dance to little kids at my mom’s dance studio – something I said I’d never do. Guess what. Not only did I do it, but I fell in love with it. I poured my heart into those kids and my spare time into learning how to be a better teacher. Little by little, day after day, I learned more and more about the psychology of teaching children, the art of structuring a class, and the delicacy or raising young artists.

During this time, I became a mother.

Just now, I’ve written sentence after sentence on what my life as a mother means to me only to delete them as they don’t do this part of my life justice. Motherhood isn’t something you do, it’s something you become. Or at least that’s how I approach it. My status as a mother defines me and colors every choice I make.

For years, my kids got off the school bus at exactly the time I had to go to work to teach. Monday – Friday, I kissed them as they walked in the door, told them goodnight, and kissed their sleeping heads again when I came home. I even worked Saturdays and came home too exhausted to do anything more than sit on the couch and stare blearily at the TV.

Remember how I told you motherhood defines me and colors every choice I make? Thanks to the AMAZING support of the love of my life, Mr. Wonderful, I was able to hang up my teaching hat, be home in the evenings and on the weekends, and actively participate in raising my children.

But wait, wait, wait, you say. I thought you were a writer!

I am. I was. I always have been. It’s something I’ve done in the cracks, on the side-lines, asking what if and following the paths my mind wandered down. I’d never seen it as something I could do, not with how busy I was…

Enter Mr. Wonderful.

“Write,” he says. “Stay home and write while the kids are at school,” he says. “Self publish,” he says. “I believe in you,” he says.

I don’t have the words to describe how I love him.

Why do you create?

It’s tacky, it’s cliche, but the answer is simply because that’s what I do. I always have, I always will.

Quick! Chocolate or chips?

Chocolate covered chips!

What caused you to want to market your art?

I’m going to answer this question about writing as that’s what I do now. First, it was Mr. Wonderful’s support. Now it’s still Mr. Wonderful’s support, but it’s also the joy I get knowing someone is reading my work. It’s really cool hearing from readers, getting feedback about the story, hearing the parts they enjoyed as well as the parts they didn’t enjoy, and then going off on little conversational tangents about gardening or new jobs.

Where/when does inspiration strike?

EVERYWHERE! If I could just record all the ideas in my brain, just get all the stories and characters and questions out on paper RIGHT NOW I’d probably sigh a monstrous sigh of relief just before another slew of plots and characters and questions started jangling around in there begging for attention.

How do you react to negative feedback?

First, I sweat and fight tears. Then I take a step back and see if there’s anything I can glean from the feedback that will help me grow as a writer and/or storyteller. If there is, I make note of it and make sure to work on that weakness from that point forward. If it’s just negative, non-constructive feedback, I let it slide off my back like water off a duck’s butt. (Or try to anyway.)

What’s your greatest obstacle as an artist?

Myself. My perfectionism. My fear of failure. My desire to succeed and the way I constantly raise the bar on what I  consider as success.

Who’s your biggest champion?

Mr. Wonderful.

Quick! Red or blue?

ACK! I like all the colors! Although, if you forced me, I’d pick blue.

Do you have kids? If not, do you want to have kids?

I’m raising three children. Lady Chatterbox is 11, Sir Brown Eyes turned 8 in January, and Master Moose is irritated that he has to wait until April to be 8.

If your child showed talent in an artistic endeavor, would you help her pursue a career in that field after having worked in a creative field yourself? Why or why not?

I stumble on this question. Lady Chatterbox was an award winning dancer. Scholarships to study in New York and LA started coming her way when she was 8. As a teacher and former dancer, I’d drool over her physical gifts and at her ability to articulate emotions that should have been out of her reach given her young age. But she didn’t love it. How could I push her into a VERY challenging life, requiring lots of physical, social, and financial sacrifice if she didn’t love what she did?

She asked to quit dance for two years straight. I finally let her last year, just before I quit teaching.

There’s a difference between being supportive and being pushy. I desperately wanted to steer clear of the latter.

How do you structure your day as an artist/entrepreneur/person/parent? How do you get it all done?

I get up at 5:15 and either work out or write. I cook a real breakfast for the kids and have it on the table by 7. While they’re getting ready, I pack lunches, and if I have time, squeeze in my shower. They’re all on the bus by 8. I write until noon at which time I start housework and prepping dinner. The entire family gets home between 3:30 and 4 unless Mr. Wonderful stays late at the office. I’m in serious multi-tasking mode at that point, finishing dinner, helping with homework, and chatting with the family. After dinner, I sit with Mr. Wonderful. I love spending time with him. Our relationship is precious to me. We go to bed early as he wakes up even earlier than I do.

Describe yourself as a parent.

I’m exacting. I see the latent potential in the kids and I want to help them develop it. I’m quick to praise a job well done, but just as quick to hand back work that isn’t well done. My kids are kind, they’re sweet, they’re hardworking. I hug them tight each day and help them find more ways to be kind, better ways to be sweet, and to show them how well hard work pays off.

What’s the best thing about raising kids?

Oh the joy! The laughter! The great big hugs!

What’s the hardest thing about raising kids?

They are constantly changing and evolving. What works today, didn’t work yesterday. Who got along well today won’t get along well tomorrow.

I’m equal parts afraid I’m doing it all wrong and certain I’m doing just fine.

But the hardest hardest thing? Knowing I’m raising them to be strong enough to leave me. If I do my job right, they’ll hug me tight and go off to become their own person, doing their own thing, and I won’t get to see each and every day anymore. They are of me, but they are not mine; they are their own person.

What advice would you give someone dreaming of making it in your field?

Learn and learn and learn. And be prepared to work for what you want. It won’t just land in your lap, it’s necessary to actively pursue the things you want.

If you could pass one thing on to the next generation in general, what would it be?

Be kind. Be strong. Reject fear.

What’s the best thing about your life?

I love my life. Each and every minute of it.

Quick! Eat out or cook at home?

Cook!

What’s the hardest thing about your craft?

As a dancer and later as a teacher and choreographer, I got a lot of feedback on my work quite frequently through the creative process. I learned to value my efforts through the lens of how others saw me. As a writer, that feedback is few and far between. I’m learning to value my work for how I see it rather than how others see it.

What’s the best thing about your craft?

I make up people, and put them in disastrous circumstances, and guide them to safety and a deeper level of understanding of themselves and their world. In other words, I get to  play with my imaginary friends all day!

What’s the hardest thing about the business side of your craft?

Oof. Not knowing how to make myself visible. Balancing the line between profitability and discoverability. Oh, and patience. I need more of that.

What’s the best thing about the business side of your craft?

Getting to learn another set of skills. I love learning.

Quick! Your peanut butter’s on your banana. What do you do?

Cheer! And then eat it!

Ok, shameless self promotion time:

Want to scope out my book? (I’m so close to having book two out on the shelves. I can’t wait to add that ‘s’ to ‘book’!) Click here!

Anything else you’d like to know about R. M. Webb? Shoot me a question in the comment section!

Dear God! I think she’s dead!

*brushes away your worried hand*

No, no. I’m fine. Really.

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know that I ran across a major problem with the plot in my second book that caused me to have to unravel a few parts in the beginning, huge chunks of the middle, and the entire end. It was a soul crushing decision to throw away so many word and chapters, but I’m nothing if not a perfectionist. The book wasn’t going to be very good with the problem plot.

I bit the bullet and started a massive rewrite.

Because I didn’t want to miss my (self-imposed) deadline for publication, I dropped all social media and stopped posting to my blog. (I have answered emails. I love talking to my readers!) I stopped working out so that I can use those extra hours oh so early in the day for writing. I can understand why you might have thought I died.

But I’m fine. *yawns* Really. *rubs eyes and stares blearily into an empty coffee cup*

But here’s the good news. I’m like…two scenes…maaaayyyyybe three…away from ending this book for the second time. Only this time, I’m super excited about it. See, I knew back on November 30-the first time I hit The End on this manuscript- that it wasn’t very good. I knew I was in for a lot of editing. I was not excited at all. I finished it with a heavy sigh and a shake of the head.

This time? I’m jump-up-and-down-scream-it-from-the-rooftops-hug-everyone-in-my-family-including-the-dog-excited.

Ok. This blog post is 300 words long and took me fifteen minutes to write. I’ve let myself out of my cage long enough. Time to get back to work and finish my book!

*Jumps up and down with newly filled cup of coffee. Stares blearily at the mess.*

 

Book Review – The Light Between Oceans

I have to admit, this book isn’t in a genre I typically enjoy. I got it as a gift for Christmas and, as I’m constantly working on trying to make myself grow outside the lines I’ve drawn for myself, gave the book a go.

As I read, I wasn’t especially moved. I found the writing style to be somewhat bland. I’d be in the middle of reading a heart wrenching moment, a scene that should have moved me to tears, and realize that I was just simply reading. I didn’t relate to the characters on an emotional level at all. I could see what was happening — the author wrote well enough to create the ‘mind-movie’ for me — I just didn’t feel what the characters were feeling. And actually, that’s a good thing. These characters went through some terrible stuff. I’m not really sure I would have WANTED to feel what the characters were feeling.

I carry enough sadness around inside me. I don’t like to read books that center on sadness and loss because, well, life already has a habit of doing that. I much prefer books to entertain me, to take me on a wild ride so that I can step out of life.

I spent the majority of the book thinking I was going to give it somewhere between a two and three star star rating. But when I got to the end, and it was the right end — not too depressing, not too sappy, just the best end these poor characters could manage — I opted to give it four stars.

That’s a big jump, you might say. As usual, I have my reasons.

If I really used the Goodreads star rating system as they’ve set it up (2 stars being ‘it was ok’ and 4 stars being ‘really liked it’) I’d opt for a two star rating. Why then did I go with four stars? As I said, I knew going in that this book wasn’t my thing and that’s not the book’s fault.

Disagree with me? Feel free to tell me why you loved this book. I love discussion.

BUY IT

Amazon

I’m Batman.

And so are you.

Just wait.

I’ll show you.

Something awesome happened today. I took apart the entire second half of my book.

“But wait,” you say. “That’s not at all awesome. Nor does it have anything to do with me being Batman.”

Give me a moment and I’ll explain.

I finished the rough draft of my second book on November 30, 2014. I haven’t been able to get though the first edit. I’ve been dragging my heels ever since. The Bitch has been saying all kinds of awful things to me. (If you happened to read this post then you’l know all about The Bitch. If you’ve ever been in the business of creating anything, then you probably know all about The Bitch even if you didn’t read said post.)

Anyway, every time I sat down to edit the next section of the book, I grew more and more certain that I WAS THE WORST WRITER EVER AND EVERYTHING I’LL EVER WRITE IS SURE TO BE UTTER TRASH. It got to where I just couldn’t write at all. I was sludging through mud up past my ankles and sinking further by the day. Even after people who’d read the first half were clamoring for more chapters to read, I just. couldn’t. get through.

“Again,” you say. “This has nothing to do with either of us being Batman.”

Patience, friend. I’m trying to set the scene.

Over the weekend, I sat down with Mr. Wonderful and had a very honest conversation about my fear regarding the book. Seeing as how you keep pressuring me to get to the point, I’ll boil the conversation down to it’s bullet points.

I knew the end of the book was bad.
I knew I needed to publish fast in order to improve my chances of gaining traction as an author.
I knew that fixing the broken end would slow me down.

I spent about a month avoiding those truths. The Bitch took that opportunity to start twisting my thoughts into awful, criticizing, statements of ‘fact’ that were crumbling my oddly over-inflated/non-existent self-esteem.

After the conversation with Mr. Wonderful, I realized that all I was dealing with was the FEAR of having to rewrite several major plot lines combined with the FEAR of being slowed down combined with the DISAPPOINTMENT of missing a self-imposed deadline that led to the FEAR that this whole endeavor is a waste of everyone’s time.

Today, I got up and brushed the fear aside.  And here’s where it gets crazy and you’ll see why I’m feeling like Batman. With the fear gone, The Bitch had nothing to feed on. She just shut up and sat down in her corner to sulk.

Without her whispering her in my ear, I got up, worked out, showered and got dressed, fed the kids breakfast, packed their lunches, cut up a bunch of fruit and loaded it into the dehydrator, and then outlined 18 new scenes for the end of the book.

All before noon.

Yes, I tweeted about it. Yes, I posted it to Facebook. Now I’m writing a blog post about it.  I’ll be honest. Calling myself Batman really tickled me. You should be tickled, too. Cause I’m cute.

Now, here’s the thing. If you’re trudging through mud, struggling to get things done, and the voice in your head is getting nastier and nastier…stop.

Yep. Just stop.

Talk to someone. Write in a journal. Talk to yourself. (Maybe only do that part if you’re alone.) Figure out what’s bothering you.

Why are you putting up roadblocks and saying such mean things to yourself? Is there a reason your inner critic is flogging the hell outta you? What kind of ammunition are you feeding that nasty little voice? Remember, that voice stems from you. You have the power to shut it up.

In order to put the voice of your inner critic in its place, you need to move out of the realm of emotion and into the realm of logic. Stop focusing on what’s wrong and start focusing on what you can do about it.

We make choices every day. We can choose to allow those negative thoughts to thrive, or we can hunt them down and remove the root cause.

Today, I’ve made my choice.

I’m Batman.

Fear Whispers its Sweet Nothings

Artists are strange birds. Odd ducks. Unusual people.

We suffer these massive delusions of grandeur, these awesome moments of self-confidence that allow us to do whatever it is we do and then offer it up for public consumption. At the same time, most of us are busy totally believing we’re not worthy of the attention we receive. We’re not good enough. We are, in actuality, hacks, and sooner or later someone is going to realize it and they’re all gonna laugh at us!

In my early twenties, I took an incredibly low paying position at the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre. And by low paying, I mean I made just about $100 for that entire season. My family was awesome and supplemented my income as best they could, which really didn’t amount to much. Don’t take that wrong. I’m eternally grateful for their sacrifice. That still doesn’t change the fact that my budget was tight.

I mean like skinny jeans on a fat day kinda tight.

I lived in a tiny studio apartment. I couldn’t afford to drive to the grocery store, let alone splurge on fancy things like name-brand yogurt.

I wish I could say that despite all that, I was happy as a clam. Pleased as punch. Good to go.

Truth of it is, I wasn’t. I should’ve been, but I wasn’t.

Wanna know why? There was this awful voice in my head that kept telling me everything I did, every movement I made, every part of my body was complete and utter shit. My upper arms were too flabby. My technique was awful. My artistry was bland. My ability to portray emotion through movement was trite and under-developed.

My dancing was stupid. My body was stupid. I was stupid.

Thing is, no one else said those things about me. I was the only one. I was doing the thing I loved most in the world and honestly, I was succeeding, but I was so busy tearing myself down, I couldn’t see the progress I made or the attention I got for it.

That voice overwhelmed me. I believed those awful things it said about me and eventually I was the one saying those awful things. I wanted desperately to improve, to be worthy of the sacrifice I’d made, to be worthy of the sacrifice my family made on my behalf.

Nothing I did was good enough.

Period. The end.

Let’s fast forward a decade and find me sitting at my keyboard, pursuing another career in the arts. I write stories and try to get people to read them. And I love it in the same way I loved ballet. And, guess what. That awful voice that ruined me as a dancer is trying to creep up and start tangling itself into my thoughts as I write.

It tells me I write stupid things and my stories are dumb and no one wants to read my books and I’m wasting my time and Mr. Wonderful’s time and the money we’re throwing at this venture is wasted and on and on and on.

Here’s where it gets cool.

I’m older. I’m stronger. I’m more prepared.

I know that voice is trying to sabotage me. Steven Pressfield calls it the voice of Resistance in his book The War of Art. I call it the voice of my inner critic (otherwise known as The Bitch) and know that at its root, it’s the voice of fear. Fear of failing. Fear of looking dumb. Fear of judgement.

All those awful things I say to myself are nothing more than fear whispering its sweet nothings in my ear.

If you’re suffering due to your inner critic,  you’re not alone. We all suffer when The Bitch whispers. I’m pretty sure that voice comes standard in today’s newest human model, pre-installed, no activation required.

But remember, in the end, you’re in control of this side-show we call life, at least your little corner of it. When The Bitch climbs her way into your head, her nails digging at your daydreams, her harsh voice freezing you in your tracks, it’s up to you how much you believe what she has to say.

My advice?

The Bitch feeds off our emotions, twisting them to help prove what she’s saying as complete and utter truth. In order to shut her down, stop feeding her. Switch over to the analytical side of your art. Deal in facts, not fears, proof, not hope.

Worried about a bad review? Read the good ones.

Worried that a plot line isn’t going to work? Deconstruct it.

Worried that you’re not making enough money? Create a business plan that will lead you to making money. (Be careful here. Deal with facts and worst case scenarios, not hopes for lightening strikes of luck and the most delightful of daydreams.)

Worried that your technique isn’t good enough? Get feedback. Then address any issues that are brought to your attention.

Once you start attacking the root of your fear with well-thought out plans and strategies, that awful little voice will quiet. Just as the Wicked Witch of the West, the bane of Dorothy’s entire trip to Oz, succumbed to a single bucket of water, the voice of your fears will disappear when you douse it with truth.

 

 

 

 

 

What’s a Girl to Do?

It’s cold here. Like, cold enough for the kids to have a two hour delay. Cold enough for me to have to drive them down to the bus stop. Cold enough for my car to chug and whine when I turned the key in the ignition.

As a mother, I love it when the kids are home. I love hearing their voices. I love hearing them laugh. Just the sound of them moving through the house — little thumps of feet and toys as Sir Brown Eyes and Master Moose build Lego fortresses, Lady Chatterbox singing off-key to her newest favorite song of all time — it’s enough to make me want to whip up some cookies and nurture the hell outta those blossoming little people.

As a writer, as a business woman working from home, I have to admit that having all three kids home seriously cramps my style.

The mother in me hates the previous sentence. She wants me to hit backspace until it’s gone. Obliterate it from existence. My children are precious little gifts and my time with them is borrowed. I get to enjoy it while they’re young, but once they grow even a few years older, their time will become their own.

So what am I to do? When the mantra in Indie Author-dom is write faster, publish faster, content, content, content, FASTER…how do I maintain my sanity as a mother, as a woman, as a home-maker while still making certain I carve out time each day to write?

Because writing? That’s me time. You know, all that advice on finding what you love and doing it? Ya. I did that. And you know what it is? Telling stories and putting them out there for the world to read.

I’ve had an absolute blast getting Facade into reader’s hands. Each time I see a purchase in a new country, I just sit back, kind of in awe of things. Then I generally do a little happy dance and make Mr. Wonderful look at the report, waving my phone in his face while he gives me his best I’m-proud-of-you smile. As if writing the book wasn’t fun enough, now I get to hear from the people who’ve read my story and enjoyed it enough to reach out and start a dialogue with me. I’m making new friends, new connections, learning new things…all because I followed Mr. Wonderful’s fantastic advice to publish the book I’d written.

I have, in my head, at this moment, eleven more books that are begging to get out. And they all want out right now. These new characters are cajoling me to tell their story and I can’t get to those stories until I finish the one I’m writing. And I can’t finish this story while I’m constantly listening over my shoulder for whatever trouble Lady Chatterbox brings to Sir Brown Eyes and Master Moose.

Thankfully, my kids are good kids. They see me typing away, brow furrowed, leaning into my screen, and they realize that I’m officially in Author Mode. They give me space. Cause they’re cool like that.

But there’s still the inevitable squabble, the raised voice that catches my attention, the lunch that needs made, the cough that might turn nasty in a few days, the Transformer whose leg fell off. I can’t get my head in the game because Mama Bear, that big old, instinct-driven, ever-present side of me that showed up the moment my daughter was born, is ever vigilant.

Maybe, there’s a way for me to access the JOY that I feel as a mother with her tribe at her side and marry it to the JOY I feel as an author with words and stories and ideas flowing out of me like some Muse on a sugar high.

In the meantime, someone’s sneezing, the timer on the cookies just dinged, and I’ve got a book to write.