 |
|
|
The life of a writer ain’t glamorous, that’s for sure. I know—insert my childrens’ eye-rolls here along with their snarky comment. “Call the Waaambulance!”
My next release, Breakfast in Bed was set to launch December first, so I’ve been frantically writing blogs for a month-long tour that was supposed to end the same day my next book, As Good as He Gets, is due on my editor’s desk. Needless to say, I was feeling a little stressed. It didn’t help matters when I received an email from my editor breaking the news that there was something wrong with the shipment of Breakfast in Bed. (Pause and take a deep breath, it’s just a couple of bumps right?) It seems that the red foil on the cover was sticking more to people’s hands than to the books. The entire shipment had to be sent back and reprinted. The new shipment is scheduled to hit the warehouse on the same day they were supposed to have hit the shelves. It’s a long and bumpy road we writers travel…
Luckily, most of the blog tour was rescheduled for a January launch. So, for everyone who is looking forward to buying Breakfast in Bed, it’s just gonna be a little late. The good thing is the reviews I’ve seen so far have been amazing. It received a 4-star review in Romantic Times Magazine, and a 5-Heart, Reviewers Top-Pick from Night Owl Romance.
I know there are always bumps in the road and you have to make due. So what’s the problem? I’m glad you asked. I expect the bumps, but what I didn’t expect was the huge pot holes I might encounter like the barrage of ugly and hurtful comments about writing romance I received in the last week.
Sure, I’ve heard other writers talk about how authors of romantic fiction get no respect, and I’ve heard my share of “When are you going to start writing real books?” I usually hit them with facts about romantic fiction sales, as well as the intelligent and well-educated women who write and read the genre. This last week I had one woman tell me she read my book and was surprised that it had a plot. That one rolled off my back. The next one was when I was waiting for Twinkle Toes to get dressed after dance so we could leave. One of the other dance moms asked how the book was going and the lady sitting next to me said “Oh you wrote Romeo, Romeo. I read it.” I thanked her and said that I hoped she enjoyed it. She gave me a funny look and said, “I usually don’t read those books, but it was cute.” I just smiled and said “Thanks, I think.” But Friday the 13th, I was left speechless. And for those who know me, speechless is not a state with which I’m familiar. It was a first.
I was at my daughter’s middle school to see her accept her entrée into the Honor Society. Yay! For me, it was a proud moment. For my youngest, it was all about the doughnuts the kids received after they shook the principal’s hand and were given their certificate of achievement and the highly coveted bumper sticker. After wearing her doughnut, and my taking three, count them, three napkins to clean her face off, she left the cafeteria with napkin lint covering her smiling, chubby face.
The eighth graders piled in so I got my things together to leave when a woman I used to see at the gym arrived. I’m tempted to call her by name, but I won’t because I’m not quite that mean. She asked why I hadn’t been to the gym. So I explained about my crazy life—home schooling Twinkle Toes, driving three hours a day, yada, yada, yada. Then she asked if I was still writing. Since I’m always prepared—I’m married to an ex-boy scout, after all—I whip out my beautiful bookmark, which has all three of my book covers on it. Surprised, she said, “You have three books out?” I nodded and told her I was working on my fourth. By this time, most of the 8th grade had come in and their proud parents surrounded us. Gym Woman waves to everyone in the vicinity, and let me tell you, the place was packed, and at the top of her voice she says, “Robin writes trashy romances. I mean filthy, smutty, trashy romances.”
KLUNK – There went the front axel. I was now the center of attention, and I didn’t know what the heck to say. Then she asked why I didn’t get a real job, like teaching English. Thank God another woman who had a functioning brain stopped and asked me for one of my bookmarks. I handed her one. The wonderful woman looked at it, “You wrote Romeo, Romeo?” I nodded, still speechless. “Didn’t Romeo, Romeo win several awards?” By this time, I found my voice and said, “Yes, it did.” That’s when she turned to Gym Woman and smiled. “It’s so nice to meet an award winning author. I can’t wait for her next book.”
I’m sure that woman will be sainted in the near future. I thanked her and noticed that Gym Woman was nowhere to be found. I spent the rest of the day stewing about Gym Woman and I’ve realized something. While it felt like I hit a huge pot hole, I realized it was really only one more bump in the road. There will always be those who try to knock people down, but as a very good friend of mine said “They can’t knock you down unless you’re up there in the first place.” I got a lot of writing done that day just to spite Gym Woman. I wrote a fabulous fight scene and pictured her face the whole time I was doing it.
Sometimes the bumps in the road can be more than just a pain in the ass. They can cause emotions. You can decide whether you are going to let those bumps lead to something positive or allow them to defeat and damage you like a pot hole might your car. How you choose to look at them is entirely up to you. If I didn’t have a book due, I may have cleaned my whole house. That’s what I used to do whenever I got a mad-on. Anger is a very powerful motivator, as long as you use it for your own good. You can let things eat at you and fester, or you can turn all that power and emotion into something wonderful. In my case, it was a fight scene and believe me, it was one of the most satisfying fight scenes I’ve ever written.
So how do you handle your bumps in the road?
The current year is quickly coming to a close. (Thank, God. As many of you know, 2009 was not particularly good to me.) Therefore, not much time is left to keep our annual resolutions or reach our yearly goals. Too often we establish objectives for ourselves, and then the moment we experience a setback or realize we can’t clear the bar we’ve set for ourselves, many of us throw our hands up in total defeat. I tend to be a perfectionist, so this is especially true for me. We frequently quit striving despite that we might experience at least a partial success if we would just forge ahead.
My resolution back in January 2009 was to lose 50 pounds, and my professional goal was to write one new book. Anyone who’s acquainted with me can tell you I haven’t lost a pound, and if anything, I’ve gained a few. (or at least I hope it was only a few) And other than receiving a fifth nomination for the Golden Heart (the entry for which I actually submitted in December 2008), I also accomplished very little writing-wise this year. So I may seem like the last person who should address the topic of resolutions and goals.
In reality, my reign as the 2009 poster child for what NOT to do if you want to meet your commitments to yourself has made me an expert on the subject. Here’s my personal checklist of what NOT to do.
- Don’t allow your health or physical condition to deteriorate. Doctors visits, tests, and medical procedures not only chew up a lot of precious writing time, but they also leave an individual too distracted to concentrate fully, thereby interrupting one’s creative process. The sedentary act of reading or writing leaves us highly susceptible to illness and weight gain and, in the end, too tired to accomplish much. It’s important that we make a concerted effort to get enough exercise and eat a healthy diet. (Yes, I know this is beginning to sound like a love letter to myself.)
 I’ve been reading a book called Flip the Switch (a guide to resetting the metabolism) by Robert K Cooper, PhD. He recommends eating six to eight snacks throughout the day (every two to three hours), rather than consuming meals, to keep the metabolism constantly stoked. Cooper also advocates drinking a gallon of ICE water throughout the day; a) to flush toxins from your body and b) because drinking cold liquids forces your system to work harder to maintain its normal body temperature.
The book also claims we should avoid sitting for more than 30 minutes at any one time. (Ooops, there goes my alarm to run downstairs to have my 4 oz. container of low fat yogurt, a glass of ice water, and a bathroom break.) BRB
Okay, I’m back. I know getting up every 30 minutes is a little extreme and too structured to get much accomplished. Just about the time I get into the zone writing, it’s time to get up again. So I’m compromising and setting my timer for every 45 minutes and running up and down the stairs twice (with an ice water and bathroom break between trips and a snack if it’s time) and heading right back to whatever I was doing.
Cooper maintains that constantly moving throughout the day keeps the basal metabolic rate consistently high, whereas a standard 30-60 minute hour workout only gives a boost for a few hours. (That’s not to say one shouldn’t also do strength training to build muscle.) So that’s what I’m trying to do. I’ll let you know how it works.
- Don’t allow yourself get to become too distracted by yahoo loops, blogs, e-mail, research, and the Internet in general. To remedy this, I’m trying to limit myself to one hour a day to read and respond to message boards, blogs, and e-mail. Again, I’m using a timer. I’ll also let you know how that works out.
 Don’t plan more than two vacations a year. I hate to discourage anyone from getting away and enjoying life. However, I have to list this because it was one of the big reasons I accomplished so little this year. By the end of 2009, my total getaways will add up to SIX. (I know, poor me. Boo-hoo, I had to go away six times!) The problem was I spent so much time planning, researching, and booking reservations for rental cars, flights, hotels, shows, restaurants, and attractions I feel like an amateur travel agent. And don’t get me started on how much time I spent packing and unpacking or how eating in restaurants on six vacations did nothing to help me keep my resolution to lose weight.
- Don’t let yourself get too involved in socializing and partying. (I’m writing this after spending three solid weeks concentrating on planning my daughter-in-law’s baby shower.) Inasmuch as I highly recommend entering the Golden Heart, I must also warn about the big pitfall that comes with it if you’re a finalist–you make so many wonderful new friends it’s difficult not to get caught up in spending a lot of your usual writing time with them. Not to mention, all that partying also did nothing to reduce my waistline.
- Don’t find excuses not to work at your goal EVERY day. Even if you only have enough time to write one sentence or do a tiny bit toward your objective (like climb an extra flight of stairs), do it. Any idiot knows that if you consistently focus on your goals, you’re more likely to achieve them. Once you get started doing whatever it is you need to do, you’ll find it’s easy to continue.
Do you see a common thread in this message? The solution to reaching our objectives and keeping resolutions can be summed up in one word. DISCIPLINE. At the same time, we also shouldn’t expect the impossible from ourselves.
Everyone’s life is different, and, therefore, everyone’s list of DOs and DON’Ts vary. An effective motivational program should only include objectives that are actually attainable and place YOU in control of whether you succeed. Setting goals that you have little or no control over is pointless and a surefire recipe for failure. Set your targets at a challenging level but not so high that success will be impossible to achieve.
There goes that dang alarm again. Gotta run!
Before I go, what are some of the obstacles in your way, and what do you need to put at the top of your “Things Not to Do If You Want to Reach Your Goals” list?
I’m also blogging at http://www.rubyslipperedsisterhood.com today, so stop over and say hi.
My post today was going to be on “How to put the FUN in your funeral.” I’d just finished polishing it when I got a cry for help from a charity dear to my heart. The St. Francis Horse Rescue Farm located in Rosholt WI, which is in the middle of their annual hay drive. So I decided with the holiday season approaching a post about “giving” and what we do on a weekly, monthly, or seasonal basis to help others would be appropriate. Tune in next month to learn how to put the “fun” in your funeral. (The idea for the post came from a romantic comedy I wrote on themed funeral planning. Yes, a comedy on funerals.  Being an event planner, I promise I’ll have lots of great ideas for you.)
I was recently sitting around with a group of co-workers chatting about our favorite charities and the volunteer work we do—or would like to do if we had more time. We realized how the charities and organizations we are involved with really reveal a lot about who we are. Besides the Alzheimers Foundation (which runs in my family so I donate) and a family I adopt every Christmas, my charities are mainly animal focused. Every time there’s a national disaster I’m on the Pet Finder website, teary eyed, making Paypal donations to assist in locating lost pets. I also give to several humane societies, but the St. Francis Horse Rescue holds a special place in my heart because my dad has volunteered there for several years and I think it’s amazing what the rescue has accomplished in such a short period of time.
Located in the small rural town of Rosholt WI, the St. Francis Horse Rescue became an “official” non-profit organization in 2004. But the organization truly began in 1999 when Mary and Bill Hetzel bought their first horse Manny and paid for his life saving surgery out of the goodness of their hearts. Their goodwill blossomed into the St. Francis Horse Rescue & Retirement Farm, which encompasses 27 acres and can now accommodate up to 30 horses. Their horses come from various backgrounds, such as humane societies, circumstances of abuse and abandonment, and sometimes from good owners who merely can no longer afford to keep a horse. So besides being a rescue ranch, this is also a retirement home allowing horses to live out their golden years with fellow horses rather than being put down.
 Rescued mares Tia, Paloma and Julia. Tia gave birth to a beautiful colt on 4/15/09 named Echo. Both mother and son are healthy! It was a rescue within a rescue!!
 Goldie–How totally precious is she?
Supporting one horse, let alone thirty, is extremely costly and I don’t know how Mary and Bill continue to make it year-to-year. They rely solely on volunteers and the generosity of others. I’m not soliciting for monetary funds, but rather your “free” votes would be much appreciated. The organization is participating in a contest run by the Animal Rescue Site. With enough votes they can win donations for their organization. It’s that simple! Merely follow the below instructions. So please vote and pass the word on to other animal lovers. As of Wednesday night, the Horse Rescue is ranked 16th in the state of Wisconsin, up from 18th place on Tuesday. Yeehaw! If they continue to move up one spot daily they’ll win the $1,000 prize for the state organization with the most votes, if not the $20,000 grand prize for the national winner. And there is a weekly prize of $1,000 that goes to the org with the most votes that week. That’s a whole lot of hay!
Click on this link
http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/shelterchallenge.faces?siteId=3
Go to the purple box in the middle of the page.
For shelter name enter: St. Francis Horse Rescue
State: WI
Town: Rosholt
Click search then vote when it comes up.
You can vote once daily. On the homepage, at the top of the left sidebar, select Daily Click Reminders and input your email. You will get a daily reminder to vote. Voting lasts until Dec 20 so please keep up the momentum and make this a joyous holiday for the horses at the St. Francis Horse Rescue!
If you are a horse lover and would like to become more involved, here’s the link to the St. Francis Horse Rescue website. www.sfhronline.org
So what do you do to lend a helping hand to others, be it in the form of donations or volunteering your time to the community or organizations? Maybe you are a seasonal volunteer—adopting a family at Christmas, participating in a toy drive, or donating food to a homeless shelter. Or maybe throughout the year you take your dog for visits to a nearby retirement home or volunteer at an animal shelter. The options to give back to others are endless, and so rewarding, I would love to hear what you do. Or if life has gotten so busy you haven’t had time to volunteer, and funds are tight with the economy and all, what charities would you like to become involved with and why?
And thanks in advance for helping out the St. Francis Horse Rescue!
Romance and Halloween. Not so much, right? Think again. If costume-less teenaged punks sinking their meaty fists into your candy bowl sounds less than appealing, grab your loved one tomorrow and try one of these ideas:
A Twilight/Midnight Graveyard Picnic – Arrange to meet there, if you dare.
A Walk in the Woods – Take along a blanket and flashlight and find the perfect spot to swap ghost stories or Halloween memories.
Fright Night at the Movies – A standby, but who can argue with popcorn, candy and many, many opportunities to clutch your loved one?
Secret Costumes – Arrive at a party or large club where everyone will be in costume, but don’t tell each other what you’ll be. Find each other through clues of body language or behavior-the way they dance, move, speak to others, drink.
Costume Party for Two – no elaboration needed.
Haunted Bedroom – Stage a halloween bedroom using candles, black rose petals, spider webs and red wine.
Midnight Pumpkin Patch - Carve a few pumpkins long after the trick or treaters have gone to bed, spread autumn leaves on a blanket in the backyard, light the jack-o-lanterns and have a picnic of wine or dessert.
Moonlight Maze – Corn field mazes aren’t just for kids. Let the moon guide you and your loved one, no flashlights allowed. Be sure to bring a blanket and a thermos filled with your favorite hot drink to share.
Who Needs Marshmellows – when you have pumpkin seeds? Why not secret away to a place you can build a campfire, roast seeds and read Edgar Allen Poe stories?
Love Letter or Poem – Write a love poem about all the ways your life would be scary without your special someone in it. Burn the paper’s edges and roll it up with twine or black ribbon. Found haunted love poems work well, too. Or, carve out a special message to your loved one, one letter per pumpkin, and line his or her walkway with them.
What’s the most romantic way you’ve ever celebrated Halloween?
Life is a balancing act, and the words of Alex Cross, in James Patterson’s, Along Came A Spider, “Do what you are,” are a challenge when applied our daily life.
 
If you were to list those things that fill your life in order of importance from least to most, how much time would you admit they occupy in your day?
Is your life an inverted pyramid where you are mired down and never spend time on those people, and things, that are most dear to you? Or have you managed to give the most important things in your life most of your time and attention, thus living the pyramid?
In Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People he emphasizes the we need to reorganise the way we spend our time; based on the concept of importance – not urgency.
“Most people are “urgency addicted” and spend half their time doing things that are not important, that are urgent—things pressing, proximate, popular, and pleasant, but not really important. This is why I feel strongly that people should take time to reflect and to think deeply about what is important to them. I suggest that people take time to decided what they really want to accomplish and why.”
There are things in our life that we must do despite the fact that they may not be at the top of our list. But we don’t have to procrastinate accomplishing them or give them more of our time than neccesary.
Brian Tracy, author of Eat That Frog, suggests: “According to the old saying, if you eat a live frog first thing each morning you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing it’s probably the worst thing you’ll do all day. Using “eat that frog” as a metaphor for tackling the day’s most challenging and most prone to procrastination task, Eat That Frog shows readers how to zero in on these critical tasks and organize their time. This means not only getting more things done, but getting the right things done.”
No one likes to talk about goal setting but it’s the simplest way to accomplish those things that are important.
Based on ZenHabits of Really, Simple Goal Setting, I use two things to organize my house and yard, two jobs, large extended family, two cats and writing career. An index card a day and a paper (yes paper) calendar.
It’s not about multi tasking, but again, it is about what’s important. If it isn’t important, then why are you doing it?
With so much to do on a daily basis the final thing I leave you with is to be present.
We spend much of our one-on-one time with others anticipating what they will say next, ready to reply and have our voice heard or simply day dreaming.
Be.
Be in the moment.
There was a very popular book released in the late nineties that spend two years on the New York Times list, called Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, by Richard Carlson, PH.D.
Carlson ”presents common-sense advice for living a less hectic and more meaningful, loving life. His essential message is that we get caught up in minutiae, “the small stuff,” and never get around to doing what makes us or our loved ones happy.”
Today, I encourage you to stop and ask yourself if you are doing what you are.
In the words of Aristotle…”We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”
I was working furiously at my desk when my husband decided to join me in my office. He sat down on the couch to read a political magazine and proceeded to comment on every article. I was about to tell him to leave when my cat/office-mate made an appearance.
Raja, my three-legged Bengal talks but at least he’s not annoying. Since we named him Raja meaning King, he took the moniker to heart and treats me and every other biped like lowly servants. He sat outside the gate (meant to keep dogs, kids, and husbands out) in the doorway, which he is more than capable of climbing over, belts out an order, and expects me to serve as doorman while I wait patiently until he sees fit to enter. This, I suppose, makes perfect sense to him. To me–not so much.
As my husband read, Raja took his throne–the couch–and made it known that he wasn’t thrilled with the company. That’s when Stephen, aka DH, asked, “What animal character is in your next book?” Huh? I didn’t have a furry character in my book. No wonder something seemed off. When he saw the look of shock and horror on my face, he quickly backpedaled. “You don’t have to have an animal side-kick in every book. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Yeah, right. It’s fine.
If you read Romeo, Romeo, the first book in my Domestic Gods Series, you probably remember Dave the dog. Dave was the male version of my late dog, Clancy–a 150-pound Black Lab, St. Bernard mix. Clancy was certain all three of my children were her puppies, and she treated them as such. She was known to clean them, scold them, and baby-sit. Dave was such a great character, he was mentioned in almost every review the book received and even receives fan mail. He might have been a dog, but he was a living, breathing, well-rounded character with his own character arc. Yes, you might think it’s insane, but Dave had his own arc and was pivotal to the plot.
 
Dave was also in Too Hot to Handle. He stayed with the heroine, Annabelle, while his parents, Rosalie and Nick, doggie-proofed the love-nest and honeymooned. Again, he seemed to steal almost every scene he was in.
 
In Breakfast in Bed, the third book in my Domestic Gods series, which comes out in December 2009, my heroine, Becca, owns a rescued cat she found lying injured on the side of the road. Becca took him to the Vet. He survived, unfortunately, one of his legs didn’t, so she named him Tripod. Okay, so sue me, Tripod is Raja with a name-change. I’ve believed for some time now that Raja was jealous because he didn’t have his own book. He is such a character; I only added one thing while putting him on the page. Tripod loves drinking coffee and Raja doesn’t. Okay, maybe it’s because he’s never been offered any. Everything else about Tripod is true of Raja including the missing leg and his penchant for popcorn, potato chips, and spumoni. Most of his antics were taken out of real life happenings, although I did leave out a few of his tricks like his predilection for flushing the toilet while you’re still on it. Although funny, there no way I want my readers picturing my H/H sitting on the porcelain throne. It’s just not sexy.
After my DH asked me about what animal character I was going to put in my fourth book, I gave myself a head slap. Luckily, it must have stirred something loose and an idea came to mind. Gina, the heroine of As Good as He Gets (working title) grew up knowing she had to be able to fit all her belongings in two suitcases and a backpack because she and her family often found themselves in the unenviable position of having to pack up everything in 10 minutes in the dark in order to skip-out on the rent. Gina has been a character in all three previous books and has finally earned her own Happily Ever After. After much thought, I found the perfect pet for her. Meet Jasmine – She’s a pointer mix I found running down the highway about three years ago and brought home. She was about 9 months old, emaciated, and scared to death. It was the last night of our local Fireman’s Carnival, replete with fireworks and the poor baby was so terrified; she shook like a leaf and shed what little fur she had left. Still to this day, whenever there’s a thunderstorm or fireworks she throws herself on top of me and vibrates with fear.
The thing that gets me about Jasmine is she’s such a little lady. She’s put on about 20 pounds since we adopted her but she’s still so delicate. When she lies down, she crosses her dainty little paws like the proper little lady. Still, when it comes to getting what she wants, she’s not averse to nipping my 120-pound yellow lab in the butt, sending him off crying to me, his mama. She’s a spunky little package of street smarts and naiveté, very much like Gina herself. They are both strays who grew up on the streets taking care of themselves and they have a very hard time trusting and depending upon anyone. I think they’ll make a perfect match. Just like Gina and her hero Ben. It’s going to be a fun ride.
So tell me, what are your favorite three or four-legged characters from books or movies?
2009 has not been the best of years for me so far (but hey, there’s almost a third of it left, so I’m hoping it will improve). What’s helped to keep me sane are some of the things I treasure most: books.
And not just any books. I found myself turning not to my many stacks and shelves of unread novels, but instead certain well-loved and much-used paperbacks with cracked spines and the browning pages. The ones I KNEW would deliver what I needed: comfort reads.
As a writer, I suppose I should be encouraging you to explore new written adventures and support the many wonderful authors with books recently in print. Well, I do encourage that. It’s good for writers and good for the economy. Buy! Buy!
That being said, when I needed a guaranteed pleasure, I knew exactly what would do it. I wanted happy. I wanted short chapters so I could read in spurts between handling the pressing things on my to-do list. I wanted a long book so I could lose myself in another world.
And although I write otherworld fantasy romance and love the genre, that’s not what I sought. Here it is:
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot. This is the first of four wonderful, fat, heartwarming books about a country veterinarian in the Yorkshire Dales of England. His memorable cast of characters includes eccentric friends, down-to-earth farmers, and the woman who becomes the love of his life — not to mention the fantastic pages populated by horses, cows, kittens, dogs, and newborn lambs. If you love animals, you MUST get this book.
As you can see from the photo, my copy has been read many a time over the years since I first came across it in junior high school. In fact I’d gladly buy a new, electronic version for my Kindle, if only one were available. (Ahem, publishers!)
I’m now rereading the fourth book in the series, a copy just as tattered as the first three. Reaching the fourth book makes me a little sad because I know the joyful experience must soon end. Fortunately, the author wrote a handful of other books and I have them ready on my shelf.
Herriot was a fantastic writer, lyrical and joyous, and with wonderful comedic timing. I’ve found myself realizing that his style — what writers call “voice” — had a significant influence on mine, though I can’t claim to be nearly as good as he was.
Yes, “was” — he passed away some years ago. I was in Nairobi, Kenya doing graduate research at a museum and received a letter from my grandmother with his obituary tucked inside. (Aren’t grandmothers so good at remembering little things like the books you love?) At the time, my life was very different than Herriot’s, but I mourned his death and mourned that he would write no more books.
But he left a legacy, one I cherish. His words give me solace and inspire me to write. I can only hope that someday, my stories will touch someone else the way his touched me.
Which books are YOUR comfort reads and your inspiration?
While everyone in Northern America is mourning the end of summer (well, except for maybe the kids back at school part), we here in the Southern Hemisphere are looking forward to the end of Winter and the start of Spring.
I’ve not long gotten back from the Romance Writers of Australia conference which this year was held in Brisbane. I’m from down south in Melbourne, so escaping to warm sunny-in-winter Brisbane for a few days was not a hardship. To be even more decadent, one of my writing buddies and I decided we wouldn’t rush back to the real world straight after conference, instead we’d take a few days to just relax and hang out and enjoy the warmth.
She lives in the middle of New South Wales, so we figured we’d spend a few days driving down the coast from Brisbane and then to her place. We decided that we’d spend the first couple of nights in Byron Bay.
Byron Bay is the eastern-most place in Australia, hence the first place to see daylight here on any given day. It’s one of those places that attracts both those seeking a laid back, natural, alternative lifestyle and those with money to buy a house in a beautiful part of the world.
It really is beautiful.
Maybe it’s the fact that it is the place the light first hits but the air is clear and bright and the whole place is full of lush tropical plants and houses nestled along the coast.
We treated ourselves to a massage and spa (along with a sauna in a traditional little wooden-style sauna which taught me that I’m slightly claustrophobic in hot dark low places), ate lovely organic food, drank not so organic wine and generally let the cares of the world wash away.
We hiked up to the Cape Byron lighthouse:
which overlooks the actual most easterly point (we were too full of lovely organic food and drink to hike all the way down there)
and soaked up the sun and breathed sea air. We read the books we’d bought at conference and napped and listened to music. Not surprisingly, after two days of this, both of us suddenly had lots of ideas for our next books and current plot problems.
I’ve never been to Bryon before but I definitely intend to go back there. For one thing, it would be a fun place to set a book, there’s definitely no shortage of local millionaires or cute surfers for hero material. For another, it’s just one of those places that really does seem to let you just relax and clear the head. So who else has a favorite place to get away from it all? Near or far? Where do you like to go to recharge?
 A few weeks ago, I started training for a half-marathon that will take place in January. (To the left are my new shoes—and normally it doesn’t take five months to train for a half, but I’m new to the sport, so I figured I’d allow plenty of practice time rather than pass out midway through the race.) I keep track of my runs on a great website called Daily Mile, and a while back, someone left a post on the forums titled “I Run Because…”.
What a wonderful way to remind ourselves of the reasons we pursue our passions. No matter how difficult or hopeless things seem sometimes (writing, anyone?), the need to continue is so much stronger than the temptation to quit.
Let’s see. I run because it feels good to be active. Because I want to accomplish as much with my body as I have with my mind. I want to get out from behind the computer and into fresh air. And maybe most importantly, I run because finishing a race is a goal completely under my control—there aren’t any editors on the other side telling me my story isn’t quite right, no judges deciding I didn’t make the team or cute guys saying I’m not cool enough to date (that is, before I was married, lol). For once, I’m the only person who has to approve my efforts, and if I put one foot in front of the other to the tune of 13.1 miles, I’ll do it. Period.
What do you do for *you*, that no one else can stop?
To follow your dreams.
Repeat after me: You’re never too old to follow your dreams!
If someone scoffs at you, turn a deaf ear. If you hit a brick wall, dust yourself off and try again. Persevere! Works for me.
Today is a very special day for me. It’s the birthday of one of my heroes, my grandfather, William “Duke” Procter. The Duke is in quotation marks, because it’s a nickname. The story goes that when he was a toddler he strutted around like the Duke of Wellington, so his father tagged him “Duke,” and Duke he remained until the day he died, December 14, 2005.
 If Duke were still alive, he would be 110 years old today. Which sounds unbelievable until you consider that he didn’t die until he was nearly 106.5 (after 100, those halves become important again). Okay, so the years after 105 are all downhill. At least they were for Duke (“Grampa” to me). To be honest, the years after 103 aren’t a cake walk, either. Neither are the years after 95. But when you’re determined and you’re blessed with good health and you truly and honestly believe that you can do anything you set your mind to…well, you pretty much can.
When I want to say, “I can’t,” I think of Duke.
You see, he didn’t just live to a ripe, old age in remarkably good health (unless you count the prostate cancer, but when you’re diagnosed in your mid-nineties, the odds are pretty good it ain’t the cancer that will kill you). He lived life with a vengeance. He embraced it wholeheartedly. When he died, he was one of the last three Canadian veterans of The Great  War (as in WW I) and the last surviving veteran of that war in my province. Probably the only reason he survived the war was because, by God’s grace and not Duke’s choice, he didn’t fight. He enlisted at 16, trained hard, and traveled to England with the rest of his battalion. While they waited to go to France, where most of his battalion would eventually die during the Battle of Vimy Ridge, it was discovered that not only was Duke underage but he knew how to fell trees. They needed men (boys) like him to log in Scotland for wood for the trenches. Duke did not want to go to Scotland. He signed up for the war because he was sick of logging and farming. He wanted adventure, he wanted to see the world. He wanted to fight. The irony is that if he had been sent to France, he likely would have died at Vimy Ridge. Instead, he lived for the boys who fought when he was told he couldn’t. He lived for his friends who died.
When I was about 10 or so, I learned Grampa was born in 1899. I remember having a conversation with him where I challenged him to live until at least 2000 so he could set foot in three centuries. Not many people get that chance. He laughed, but as he aged I realized, “Dang, he just might do it.”
Years later, I learned that the 21st century didn’t technically start until 2001, which, gulp, tacked on another year for Grampa, or he would lose my challenge. Silly me.
Here was a man who took up horseshoes (seriously, not just as a thrice-a-summer affair) at the age of 75. He eventually became the oldest competing horseshoe player in Canada, as in playing in tournaments…somewhere around age 97 or 98. He built a horseshoe pit in his front yard and played every day, alone or with others (if they dared challenge him) until 105. When my grandmother was alive, they squaredanced. She died a month shy of her 89th birthday, but Duke wasn’t ready to give up his dance shoes. He loved to dance. He continued squaredancing until he was 103. He was very popular, too. There were a lot of widows at those dances. They needed partners. Duke was happy to oblige. Every single week.
Duke learned to bowl (five-pin bowling, which apparently only exists in the Great White North—the balls are smaller and don’t have finger holes) at 92. Ninety-two! My grandmother had died, and he needed more to do, you see. So he took up bowling, played in two leagues a week, and earned his last strike at 104. Not bad for a newbie.
 He drove until 101, put in a huge garden every year, and canned his own fruit, which he ate everyday, until past age 100. He’s been the subject of a documentary, and had a song written about him. He lived in his own home until 105, when a bad fall put him in an old folks’ home. He’d had a bad fall at 103, during a trip to Vancouver to receive the Queens Jubilee Medal for his service in The Great War. He spent his time in the hospital instead. That was it, we thought. He wouldn’t recover. But he rallied and returned home, receiving his award via a personal visit from a Canadian senator several weeks later. He was proficient in survival, you see. After all, he had brain surgery in his sixties after a tree fell on his head. I’m not making this stuff up! He changed his winter tires himself in his nineties when a phone call to the tire shop revealed it would take too long to have it done for him. He had things to do! He had to go vote (we were having a federal election). He didn’t have time to waste sitting in a tire store.
It just didn’t occur to him not to believe in himself. Which was why, when my cousin took skydiving lessons and then suggested to Grampa that he should go tandem skydiving for his 100th birthday, by golly, he took her up on it. (Tandem skydiving is when you’re strapped to the instructor, who pulls the cord).
Grampa wasn’t feeling well around his 100th birthday, however. Certain medications for his prostate cancer and other considerations were taking their toll. We held a massive (and I mean massive) squaredance for his 100th birthday, and he wobbled on his feet as he walked to his seat of honor on the stage (oddly, he danced easily enough). We feared this birthday would be his last.
A little over a month later, permission from his doctor in hand, he went tandem skydiving, all right. Here’s his landing:
And here he is celebrating with the dive team after the dive:
Note, he’s standing on his own two feet (he’s the bald guy in the middle). He became somewhat of a Canadian celebrity for a bit there following this skydive, and as he aged he’d get telephone interviews for newspaper and magazine articles (he appeared in Canadian Living, our equivalent of something like Family Circle or Good Housekeeping, and McLeans, our equivalent of Times or Newsweek). I was visiting him during one such newspaper interview. The guy was old, around 103, and, okay, sometimes his memory was foggy. The interviewers were always interested in the skydive. This one asked Grampa if he broke his leg during the landing. I was a few feet away. I heard Grampa try to explain that he landed okay, but the interviewer confused Grampa’s story about breaking his leg a good ten years earlier when he fell off his roof while cleaning the gutters (again, not making this stuff up!) with him breaking his leg during the landing following his skydive.
Let me set the record straight: he broke his leg falling off the damn roof in his 90s, not skydiving at 100!
 There, I feel better now.
Well, I’ve rambled. Which isn’t unusual. I inherited it from Duke. But I still smile, I still get a tear in my eye, I still feel my heart swell with love and pride when I think of him. And whenever I feel down, whenever I feel like I just can’t go on, that following my dreams is too hard, that I keep hitting brick wall after brick wall and it’s not worth it, I can’t do it, I think of my grandfather. And I know that I CAN.
How about you? Who’s your inspiration?
(For those interested, Duke finally died of old age and a series of small strokes at 106, several weeks after hip surgery as a result of a fall in his room in the middle of the night at the old folks home. His heart continued beating a good ten minutes after he stopped breathing).
|
