Today’s post is to participate in the writing exercise:  How writing has positively influenced my life. Hosted by Positive Writer.

When I decided to finally sit down and write my first novel it was not out of some noble cause or life long dream. I didn’t think I was some kind of inspirational writer, the greatest writer ever to live, nor had I lived the most exciting life to tell stories. I just loved to write. It was in my blood, truly.

My sisters are artists, my brothers are musician, and I knew there was something in me to express my own creativity. The only things I can paint are walls. I guess I can hold a tune, but writing music is a foreign language to me. Words though, are my paintbrush and my musical instrument. I can ignite the mind, inspire the heart, and capture a soul with my words. Writing is my magical paintbrush that allows people to enter into worlds unknown, meet all kinds of other people and have experiences that change them. Wow, right? That is why I write!

My father was a writer. He was a teacher, a storyteller, and a conversationalist. He was a voracious reader and truly one of the smartest men I have ever met. He wrote about many things: philosophy, religion, politics, history, and just life. But his many aspirations were to become a fiction writer. He had sweet stories to tell. He put them down on paper…literally, on paper with a pen! He eventually got them to a computer, and even had a few printed up to hand out to friends and family. He tried and tried, but he never got published. I think of all the things he could look back on his life, this was a big failure to him. He never wanted much out of life. He wasn’t looking for fame or fortune, just for people to share in his love of stories. He understood the power of words and truly just wanted to share this magical thing we call writing.

Becoming a writer makes me understand my father’s passion. He loved words and the experience to create…and to give back to others through writing. I think I understand him that much more. I write for him. I want to give him the legacy he never had. I want to show him that all he taught me was not in vain. I want to show him that his words live through me. His talent was not wasted and buried with him.

Writers come in all shapes and sizes. They write about diverse topics. But what they all have in common is a passion to mold words into a single idea to share. For writers, just to have someone read your work is success. Oh okay, if they like what you write that is great too! But for me, to have someone read my work is something more. It is my gift to my father and a letting his legacy live on.

Maybe it was because yesterday was Mother’s day, or that my Uncle died, or even that I was blessed to be sitting a room with my two sisters, niece and daughter…..all the Legacy of my mother. It all made me contemplate the legacy we leave behind.

My Uncle was 97 years old. He lived through the Great Depression, WWII, man on the moon, the great societal change of his own generation, the illness and death of the love of his life, and the the birth and the death of his own two sons. His legacy had come and gone right in front of him. He was an old man, in hospital with very little left of the life he once lived. My mother is the only who remembers him as young man. Very few will remember his heroic deeds. There is no one to remember his loving ways as a husband, or his duties as a father, his laughter as a friend, his hard work as an employee. He was born, he lived, he died. His memory will be but a grain of sand on the ocean floor, only to be covered up by thousands of other grains of sand as the wave of life rises sand falls with each new day and as time goes by.  His life….will soon be forgotten.

I do not say this to be unkind. I say this as a mere understanding that very few of us will have a real legacy. We are just here as an existence….with the hope that we have connected to someone along the way and that the next generation we will be remembered for a moment, before are forgotten.

My mother is the last of her clan; the Clan D’Errico. She is all too aware that her legacy….the memories of her immigrant parents, and six other brother’s and sister are but a generation away to be forgotten. My siblings had the honor to meet most of Clan D’Errico and we will remember their personalities and idiosyncrasies; the things they did that touched our lives. But for our children they will just be names on the back of pictures; lost relatives in the history of our family.

I and one of my sisters were the only ones who knew my Uncle. He lived 3000 miles away and thus the rest of my siblings did not get the chance to meet him. I was blessed with knowing him, his wife, and his family. I will remember him until my dying day. But then that will end his significance on earth. He will be a mere name on a family tree. But his significance is not unique or a reflection of his importance in life. We all will be…just a name. We will have been born, lived, and died. We are merely two generations of a legacy, until our personality, our facial expressions, our touch, the sound of our voice is no longer a memory to anyone. Then our legacy is gone. Poof! Who we struggled to be, what we worked hard to accomplish will be nothing worth anyone’s time, thought or memory.

So, you ask how this has anything to do with writing….

Books, art, music are all very significant legacies for humanity. They help us stay connected to the past and to our history of who lived before us, how and why. But mostly, it is the big, “important” people and things that get remembered: the pharaohs and kings, the monuments, Beethoven’s Fifth. What about the average person who lived, breathed, worked and died. What is their legacy…like my Uncle?

I have a line in my first novel, Finding Jane: “Books connect us to those that lived long before us giving us a one on one perspective of individuals, not just world history. They can bring one small person to life before us, not just great heroes. It makes the everyday person have significance.”

Characters in a book do give everyday people a legacy. There are stories told of all sorts of people, small and big; diverse and ordinary. They remind us of the individuals who lived and had purpose. They make us remember that we are human and connected from generation to generation, event to event, life to life and death to death. That is what I love about writing. It brings to life a person, any person, to have some meaning and a legacy. All the characters that exist in books are remnants of people we have met, have known, or just a little piece of the author. They are elements of our humanity that will live on from one generation to the next, creating a legacy of who we were, what we did and why we were important…even if I myself am not remembered.

I have to say I am blessed with a few people who have truly pushed me to write. They believe in me and for that I am grateful. This writing industry is hard….no brutally hard! You write, and write, and write only to be mostly turned down, ignored, rejected, critiqued and flat out told you suck! (Not me personally, but others have stated as much.) Wow, why do we do this??? You try to stay motivated. You read other blogs that inspire you to continue. You copy quotes about believing in yourself. You try to surround yourself with other writers struggling through (albeit in the surreal world of the internet) like yourself to know you are not swimming alone.

Really? And then what? The truth is, you can believe all your want that you are good, but if you do not have validation it is hard to maintain that “self awareness.” Where does one get the strength to continue to write in spite of it all???

Writing anything is where it begins. Writing a whole novel??? A long process. Then there is the editing, reader critiques, query letters, synopsis, summaries, tag lines, not to add the research and networking on social media. It is a never ending process. No one is giving you a pay check, a promotion, a better office with a window, a bonus. It is just you writing. It is very isolated. No one else can do it for you and there is very little to show for it.

My husband asks, “What did you accomplish today?”

Hmmm, nothing. But I wrote 3000 words! This in his mind equals, “I accomplished nothing.”

My friends who “work” ask, “What did you do all day?”

I answer, “I wrote!”

I might as well have just said I ate Bon Bons and watched TV!

My friends wish they could sit home and daydream like me. My husband thinks I am fooling around with a hobby.  Well, because to them trying to become a writer….isn’t a job to anyone. It is equal to laying on your bed in a princess dress, dreaming of a fantasy! No one can see you doing anything but sitting on your computer. You have nothing to show for it…other than your words, thoughts, imagination written down on a screen.

But the thing is…I am doing my ‘job.’ The job that I was meant to do. I am a writer. I AM A WRITER! I don’t want to become a writer….I don’t aspire to be one ….I am one. It isn’t a fantasy or long, far away dream. It is who I am. And thus, I write. I write late at night. I write in between picking up the kids. I write when I should be cleaning the house, or billing a client. I write! It may seem frivolous to most and a luxury to others. But to me it is my career identity. I am ‘working’ all the time!

I know, I know. It doesn’t bring home a paycheck. So, it is a not “really a job.” But that is just it…you can’t bring home a paycheck, until you write. Writing takes time, effort, work…..did I say time? It has so many roads to travel and hills to climb before the validation comes….in terms of money and notoriety. If it comes at all.

And thus, this leads me to appreciate that few, the very few who support me along the way. I need you! I appreciate you! For it is like being a mother. You do a damn lot for a long, long time and you may never see the fruits of your labor until your deathbed…hopefully sooner. What can I say to the non-believers, the non supporters??? Nothing. I can only speak to my support team who continual read my blog, comment on my FB, scroll through my Tweets, and who ask me about my work. Thank you for believing that what I do matters. I may not make millions, be on the cover of a magazine, or even have a paycheck for my writing. Do you need those things to be validated????? Well, I cannot lie. I would love that. But in these quiet times on Monday mornings when I start to doubt myself, I pull up my FB and there it is…. a person has commented or I have a new follower on Twitter.  It makes my day and I realize I have accomplishment in what I do: Someone read my words! Because the truth is, to be an accomplished writer is for someone to read your work, and eventually want to read more of your work. That is the measure of success for a writer! If publishing, money, speaking gigs, blogging invitations come, then it is all icing on the cake. But for now, I write, you read. Job accomplished!

“We MUST Protect Our Writing From Others!” –Marcy McKay, Positive Writer Blog

I was reading a blog this morning and the words never held more truth to me than today. I had recently entered a writing contest for the sole purpose to get reviewed. As part of the process you were given two reviews from various people in the industry: published authors, unpublished authors, previous contest winners, etc. If your reviews were high, you then were pushed forward in the competition to an agent and editor. Don’t get excited..I didn’t make it that far and here is the reason why:

I had one reviewer, a published author, who loved my story, character, and writing. She scored me pretty high, with a few exceptions when it came to my character. Her one criticism was to just enter a little more depth in her emotions to bring my story to the next level. Great! I can do that! Otherwise, she wanted more (of my story) and felt my writing was strong and the story intriguing.

I’ll take that! 

The other review…..not so kind! She scored me very low. She found my main character too emotional and didn’t like the way my character handled her breakup! (She thought that my character should have been vengeful. Wow! Nothing personal there!) She also critiqued my words saying I was too…verbose. (My word, not hers, but had the reviewer had a larger vocabulary….I am sure she would have used it. Because apparently words like closure and catharsis are too clinical.) And apparently contractions are preferred. I used “I am,” instead of “I’m.”

“No one speaks like that!” She claimed. 

Really? I do. But then again, I grew up in a world with no texting, emails, and barely an answering machine. (No, I am not that old, but these new communication devices/applications are fairly recent…it just seems like they have been around forever!) I actually had to write out things, and intelligently talk to people if I wanted to communicate. (It did not help that my father was a Jesuit trained educator! Shame on him for teaching me to communicate so properly!!!) Maybe my shortened writing skills are not up to par. But then again, I don’t want to short speak, hence why I became a writer!

I could go on about her critique but I won’t. She did not (or didn’t) like my writing. Ok. So the question begs itself, “Do I change it because of her comments?”

No! I will not take that!

“As a writer, you have a responsibility to protect your writing from others…” –Marcy McKay, Positive Writer Blog

The biggest piece of advice I got from Ms. McKay was: you have to decipher the advice your are given.You have to ask,  is it about your craft, or is it just about someone’s opinion? Craft I can work on. We can all improve on our craft! But opinions….there are just too many…as my two critics revealed. What anyone can really do is take what you feel important or valuable, and then trash the other stuff. Did the second critique have valuable information for me? Absolutely! Not about my craft, but the reviewer taught me that some people will just not like my writing/story/character/words…and that is okay!

As writers were put ourselves out there in the most vulnerable way: we share our thoughts. It cannot be any more personal than that….well, unless we stand in front of people naked, but writing for me is this very act. So, when we hear something that is a critique we cringe and fall into our insecurities. I did that immediately when I told my girlfriend the title of my latest novel.

“Oh, that is awful. You can’t name it that!” She screeched.

I thought about it for about a day and then continued on with my title. Every once in awhile her words ring in my ear as I am saving a file under the title’s name…..but then I remember that I like the title! It is what it should be and I am keeping it. (Well, of course unless a publisher wants to change it…..I have no moral code!!!)

People are not going to like everything you do. But learning to believe in your work and feel confident in what you are producing takes a lot of thick skin, willpower, maturity, and the ability to decipher what you can learn from and what you can throw out. You need to be discriminating and not let people, no matter how close, change your writing unless you feel it is valid.

Now go on…take on your writing or whatever it is you do!

Now that I have your attention!

I was wondering when I might get a few more hits on my blog. The best way was to talk about sex! That always draws people in. How cheap of me…but I will not disappoint! Or maybe I will.

Sex. Everyone wants to read about it, but how much is too much? That is the balance of a writer and ultimately what kind of writer you will be categorized. I hate to disappoint, but I am NOT an Erotica writer. If you have read my blog before, you know I cringe to think of myself as one of those naked man covered books. (Not that there is anything wrong with those!) I just can see my father looking down from Heaven shaking his head in disgrace if he were to see me write about a, “hot muscle pulsating between her hands.”

I digress again from my point…sorry. Sex and the writer…..

Writing sexual scenes is extremely difficult. You would think it would be fun and sexy. Well, hate to say, it is not. It is truly agonizing. Writing about sex, sexual encounters, or just sexy stuff is out there in a thousand ways…and will always have an audience. But writing it in a way that is enveloping and not startling is more of a challenge.

When my characters come together I am intruding on the most intimate moments between two people. I feel so invasive and that I shouldn’t be there. I am not just writing words, I am a voyeur. I am literally walking around the scene watching from all angles of what is going on, and then writing it down. I am describing what they are doing, feeling and thinking. I am in the middle of two people’s intimacy. Characters come from my imagination, but as any writer can attest to, once established, they are entities all unto themselves. When I say they talk to me, they really do. I am merely a scribe typing down what is being dictated to me; I am an observer preserving the moment. They move and breathe around me and have life when I am not writing. I am just stepping into their world as a visitor. So, when I go to write about their sexual encounter, it is like I am intruding. It is so raw and personal! As the writer I have to be respectful of their privacy, but at the same time reveal it to the reader. How the reader experiences it may be as a voyeur, or as a participant all by how I engage myself as the writer. This will make the difference in the story as being gratuitous or significant.

I did not set out to write romance, per se. I set out to write a “lovely” story. More importantly, I wanted to write a story that re-introduced meaningful love that comes from a developed relationship and a purpose for passion. I know, some of you are thinking, “You need a purpose for passion?” In my books you do! I wanted to bring back a love story, not a sex story. So, when sex is involved, I have a great task of saying enough, but not describing every detail. I want my reader to say, “Oh my,” not “OMG!” In other words, I want it to be a book you can hand off to a friend without apologizing.

So, the question begs, “What is enough?”

Well, of course if it is a romance, readers are looking for sex. Duh! And a romantic story needs lots of passionate, steamy moments. But my goal is to make it beautiful, meaningful and alluring. You know, the kind that women dream about but rarely, if ever have! (But that is whole other blog unto it self!) I am not writing about sex to be gratuitous, graphic, or provocative. I am writing it because it is a part of the story; a development of the relationship between the two characters. It should be a part of the story; not just a scene. And thus, it is a difficult task. It becomes personal and intimate, and I feel like I have a responsibility to be honorable to my characters, as well as my readers.

I hope I do it justice.

I read many blogs about writing. They keep me informed, educated and introduce to me many writers, styles and subjects. It is a way to stay connected to other people in the industry. Most of us are home, sitting behind a computer and have little interaction with the world outside while writing. But today I was reading one of my favorite blogs that I enjoy the writer’s direct and rather brash styles. So, when today’s topic was of a political nature I was open, but hesitant to read. Politics is a hard topic to bring up with “strangers.” There are so many spectrums of beliefs and where each person comes from, someone is bound to be offended, or put off. So, this was a daring move. This blogger, having thousands of followers was probably confident enough to say what he said, hoping his allure would override his content. I did not skip over it, and found it objectionable.

I am probably more political than most. I keep up in current events, have a definitive belief system and don’t mind speaking about my thoughts. But…..and I say that with great caution, I do not allow my public voice go beyond my “friends” and “acquaintances.” Not for fear of being judged, or offending someone. Gosh, I offend my friends and family all the time with the things I say. But we (the people I choose to discuss politics with) all know this….we are different and respect each other’s sides. It is what we do. Quite honestly, I surround myself with varied people for the pure joy of discussion and dialogue. I believe it grows your mind, makes you more human, puts your own thoughts in perspective, and teaches you to listen, respect and cherish those around you. I guess you can say it is a pastime for me to “argue.” I love it! I debate hard….but never in my mind do I think that someone does or has to agree with me. For me, it is just the joy of sharing my thoughts aloud. I think everyone has a right to express his/her opinion. Go for it! That is what freedom is all about. The blogger had every right to use his post to state his opinion on a current political event. After all….it is HIS blog. My objection: His opinion seemed to assume that everyone who was reading it felt the same way. There was little apology to anyone who might disagree with his stance/choice. He stated his opinion and case well. I respect that immensely. But he closed off his comments and made a huge statement for those who would have disagreed. This I think, when you go public with such a strong opinion, can divide your audience needlessly.

My first reaction to his blog was to just drop him from my likes. I really don’t have time for people in my life who are closed minded, or who are so opinionated they cannot see the other side of things. I am not an advocate of throwing up your words at someone and then walking away. Take it like a man! If you have such a strong opinion, then you need to stand up to the opposite and face the truth of your words. Defend them and believe in them. But “walking away” shows arrogance, a lack of understanding and is just plain wimpy!

But then I realized that I would have been doing exactly what he was doing…..shutting out people with whom I disagree. People do not have to agree…nor should they. It keeps us on our toes and constantly growing. But if we are a society of writers, and use our words for a living, we need to be better at the communication thing. He failed the biggest test of blogging: being open to all that may follow you. Will you offend at times? Sure, but as a blogger you have to be more conscientious of your “public” persona, as well as the power of your words. He spewed out “stuff” that he felt strongly about, and then walked away….that was an amateur move.

Was I annoyed? Yes. Do I want to dump his blog? No. For I really like his writing and commentary. I can overlook others with whom I don’t agree, and still enjoy them as people and what they have to offer. How boring would it be if everyone thought like you??? We would have no good novels and the meaning of protagonist/antagonist would cease to exist. Having tolerance is the key to an advanced society. Respecting others and how they think/believe/feel are vital to our development. Making sure when you have pen in hand, you should honor that.

Please keep in mind that I am talking about context. If this were a political blog, or a news commentary, I would probably have been more lenient with my opinion. But this was a writing blog. Stating his opinion and making the decision he did in the name of politics and his beliefs was noble. I truly love it when people stand for something. I guess I just didn’t expect something so political attached to this blog…and that is where the disconnect happened. But….damn that word! I guess my offense is that by being so narrow minded (by assuming his audience felt exactly the way he did) and closed off (for others to give him commentary back) he put himself in a position to lose respect from his readers. He lost the opportunity to connect or to understand his audience better. He lost a little respect from me. As a blogger and a writer that move can be a fatal blow.

I read his blog and moved on…sort of. His words were powerful and touched upon a guttural response. Which only proved to me that he is worthy of reading. I had some issues with what he said, politically, but totally respected where he was coming from and what he was doing in the name of his beliefs. I just wish he had presented the same respect for me.

I was speaking to woman I met last night. She was in medical equipment sales and commented, “I will probably do this the rest of my life/career.” I looked at her and said, “Never predict your future!” You never know how your life will turn, where it will take you, or what you are capable of. But what you must not do is ever think that you cannot change your life or do what you really want to do!

I guess I have been around a lot of people who have reinvented themselves in their careers. Some because they had to, others because they have wanted to. But the point being is, your life is not stagnant, if you don’t want it to be! I am not saying that you will gain success, money, fame, or achieve something grand. That is a possibility. More likely, you can just have something different than what you have; do something you want to do and it could make you just as happy or more.

I have reinvented my career many times: Corporate marketing, Corporate sales, MOTHER, Garden Designer, Interior Designer, and now, Writer.  I have been lucky to do so, but also because I have put myself out there and tried. I had fear, reservations, insecurities. Who wouldn’t?  Have I been highly successful? Well, maybe not the way my husband would like…He would like to retire early on the wings of my success! (Didn’t happen! Sorry Honey!) But each thing I have tried has been challenging and has given me a broader sense of who I am, what makes me fulfilled, and what I am capable of. I took a chance…and that is a lot more than most people can say. For that I am successful! I do not regret that I moved into different areas and tried different things. I have loved the challenges and realizing that I am capable of more than I had planned on!

Writing has always been that “thing” out there that I thought was for someone else. Who was I to think I could be a writer???? I can write. I have great stories. But so do many thousands of other writers out there. I am constantly reading articles that tell me that I am one, little, tiny speck in the sea of sand that falls at the feet of agents and publishers! I could fail miserably! I question my writing every day of my life. I panic that I have let all of you know I am writing…and then it will never be good enough, published, read, or noticed. I worry that I will be judged as a loser. (This is where I insert that age makes this easier to say, “Oh well, who cares what you think!”) Then I sit back and realize, at least I am trying! 

Despite what other many think, judge, laugh at, or care, they are not going to be with me at the last breaths of my life when I say, “Did I do all that I thought was possible?” I cannot predict my answer to that question yet because each day brings something new and gives me a chance to try anything. And trust me, there are so many things I wish I could have done, should have done in the past in my career choices. But that doesn’t stop me now to move forward and change that fact that I have today and I am not going to let fear stop me from changing my life. When it comes to writing, I will not have regrets!

So, I hope the woman I met listened to my words and that they gave her hope to realize that she has more in her than she thought was possible. Don’t let fear stop you!

Have you reinvented yourself through the years. Share with us in the comments below. I think others will be inspired to not let fear stop them!!

A month had gone by since that pivotal night and still she found it hard to motivate herself to start each day. As the morning light stirred her senses, the emptiness left by his departure starkly solidified her reality. She was alone.

Her cat jumped down to the floor at her sudden movement to push out of bed. He began to rub Jane’s ankles with his head.

“Hello Mr. Bingley! Are you hungry?” She warmly asked as she bent down and rubbed his neck.

His only response was to rush off in search of food.

Rising to feed the cat, she followed his furry steps to the kitchen, where she filled his bowl, pushed the button on the coffee maker and turned on the local news to check traffic. The day began and she was ever more grateful for the simple chores that pushed her forward.

Morning routines were getting better, as was her life without Stephen. Other than the few quiet moments in the morning, she had no time to give him any more attention.

Jane’s work was more than she could manage with a major exhibit she was working on and a trip overseas a few days away. It was every bit acceptingly distracting as was the opportunity to get out of town and maybe give her a new perspective on love and what the future possibly could hold for her. Jane knew time would heal her. She just had to keep the faith, move forward and let time do its magic, taking her where she needed to go.

“Jane…I am not in-love with you anymore!” He just blurted it out.

Jane’s body froze. She felt momentarily paralyzed by the rush of emotions that sucks the air out of your lungs. Her heart began beating rapidly and the pounding resonated in her head. She wondered if everyone in the restaurant had heard Stephen’s words. She looked around to see if anyone was staring at her, but they were all were going on with their lives, eating and drinking with no interruptions. It was only she who felt the room spinning.

Jane slowly pulled her hand out of his and slumped into her chair. She felt the heat rise from her heart to her face puzzled by the words that came out of Stephen’s mouth.

“I think we have had a great time together. But you and I have been on autopilot for a long time. You must have been feeling this way too?”

Stephen shifted his position leaning into Jane so that his words were delivered more privately. She looked at him with curiosity, still with nothing to say.

He continued, “I think its time we move on with our lives, Jane.”

“Move on?” Jane repeated the words. “Move on to where?”

Stephen continued on with his conversation, his lips moving in continuous motion. He said something about her being happier without him and how he was doing this for her. Jane stopped comprehending the words. After those declarations she just couldn’t process any more. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him, scream, or just run away. Instead, she sat there, listening to his empty sincerity wondering how she missed the signs of her relationship failing. It was apparent that he had had time to disengage. His words were careful and kind, but they lacked any attachment. For him, closure was simply the task of telling her. He no longer loved her. Jane knew in her heart, by the look in his eyes, his disconnected touch and his vacant words there was nothing she could say or do to change the way he felt. It was over for him.

Alone! The word screamed across her mind like a flashing billboard. After five years of waking up with someone she was now lying in an empty bed, surrounded by a half empty bookcase, half filled drawers in her dresser, and an empty counter next to her sink that used to be crowded with shaving cream and colognes. The smell of his green, grassy fragranced soap no longer lingered on her pillows. The closet was still barren where his clothes used to hang. She knew she should have claimed full ownership of the empty spaces by now, but deep down she was hoping he would change his mind and come back. But as she played the breakup over and over in her head that evening he told her, she knew he had already detached from her.

“I love you, Jane. You are a wonderful woman. Any man would be lucky to have you. I have been lucky to have you.” Is what he said, pausing before he continued.

He then took Jane’s hand in his and looked at her with his ocean blue eyes and baby long lashes. Jane had always felt warmth when she gazed into Stephen’s eyes. They were usually kind and loving and he used them to his advantage when he wanted to make love to her. But that night it was not desire that he was emanating as she peered into them. They looked empty. Jane shivered with the anticipation of what was to come next.