Writing as Therapy: How Pen & Paper Help Us Heal

"This was so therapeutic." 

These are the words I see most often on the submissions for the "humiliation" piece in one of my classes. 

This is a creative non-fiction assignment that asks my students to examine an embarrassing moment or a dark secret--something they've never told anyone, are still working through, or have finally overcome.

Affairs, divorces, abortions, abuse.... 

I've read it all.

Outside of the requisite writing feedback, I am a no-judgment reviewer. They can tell me anything.

So yes, writing is therapeutic.

Photo by Cristian Escobar

It's a way to process and release emotions surrounding a specific event. It helps us understand our emotions or even view the situation from a different perspective. 

It can help us cope with anxiety and reduce stress. It can help us sort through our emotions and gain insight into our thoughts and feelings. 

Writing can help us understand ourselves better. It can help us move on from difficult experiences. 

The page doesn't judge, so expressing ourselves in this way is safe. The paper isn't going to misunderstand us. It isn't going to get angry or lash back. It's simply going to soak up the words until we're done with them and feel ready to move on. 

So if you're feeling low right now, if you're struggling with something, why not pull out a sheet of paper or open that clean word processing document and give it a try?

Then shoot me a message and let me know how it goes.

No judgment here. :)

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

It's Here! First Love, with that little something extra...

It's Happy Release Day, and I'm so thrilled that my little rom-com was selected to appear in this anthology with a fantastic group of writers.

As one of the writers featured I was able to get an early copy, and I LOVE the variety and creativity between these pages, you guys. We were all working with the same concept (First Love) and took it in so many different directions. 

Here are my personal reviews of each story (minus my own) featured in this year's anthology: 

 

“The Art of Making Doughnuts” by Linda Budzinski

“A sweet surprise of a story. First love, with that little something extra.”

“My Heart Approves” by Melissa Maygrove

“Maygrove sweeps readers into the time and place from the very first line. A lovely historical promenade of two characters easing into a love not even a lie can’t temper.”

“My First Love(s)” by Templeton Moss

“A ‘he-said’ then ‘she-said’ tale of all the loves one man can (sort-of) recollect and the woman who sets him straight. Moss nails the characters’ voices and pacing. I am 100% sure this story is worth the read.”

“The Real Thing” by Sammi Spizziri

“It’s not the first love Lola anticipated, but a rideshare to the airport turns into a meet-cute worthy of the most classic of rom-coms.”

“Paper Faces” by Sylvia New

“A swoon-worthy historical account of a journalist who refuses to sacrifice her scruples and the man who adores her for it. The romantic tension between the main characters keeps these pages turning.” 

“Oliver’s Girl” by Michael Di Gesu

“An old man’s sweet imparting of love at first sight, and the namesake who believes in second chances at first love.” 

“Clyde and Coalesce” by Kim Elliot

“Sparks fly when a musician and teacher keep running into each other—sometimes literally. The romantic chemistry between them seeps off pages that seem to want to turn themselves.”

“Marmalade Sunset” by Denise Covey

“The vivid imagery and captivating descriptions of Greece pull readers straight into Cora and her grandson’s journey to reunite with her first love.”

“The Castle of Ohno” by S.E. White

“A grateful Hippolyta disarms the reclusive Konrad as two lonely outcasts work their way towards love in a gothic castle worthy of the most exceptional fairy tales.”

So if you're looking for a nice collection of sweet love stories....

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Where Do Writers Get Their Inspiration From?

The Insecure Writer's Support Group Romance Anthology Authors are talking Inspiration over at the blog this week! 

Find out where we get our ideas from. 💖 

"I’m not entirely sure, but I’ve come to believe that writers co-create with the universe—that it offers us bits and pieces of information/inspiration because it wants us to do something with them. It’s happened when listening to music, while watching movies, when a character’s name fell right into my lap…. It’s never just 'thinking' about something; it always feels like more, somehow. So I take these bits and pieces and ruminate on them, adding and subtracting in the best interest of the story, and draw on whatever additional insights the universe is willing to toss my way with gratitude as I work toward 'The End.'" 

-- Katie Klein, "How to Save a Princess"

A Screenplay Competition Update

In my February Newsletter, I wrote the following:

Dear Reader,

A few years ago, I decided I wanted to write a screenplay. I knew next to nothing about this, though I’d read a few before, so I knew I would have to teach myself. Armed with a couple of books and a few reputable websites (and largely Googling as I went), I wrote a 120-page holiday romance (a la Hallmark because they follow such a predictable structure).

I really loved the process, so a few months later I adapted All I Never Wanted, turning it into a screenplay. 

I eventually plan to do the same with All I Never Needed, and, not surprisingly, I turned that original Christmas screenplay into a novel (which I’m not quite ready to do anything with). Yes—writing is a bit of an obsession for me. 

But that All I Never Wanted screenplay, which I’d tentatively titled Saving Summer, had been sitting on my hard drive for a couple of years now, and I wasn’t really sure what to do with it. . . .

 . . . until earlier this month when I stumbled across information about a screenplay competition and thought: “Why not?” I’m always preaching to my students—and you, faithful newsletter reader—as well as my blog readers and Twitter followers to get out there and make some creative noise, take chances, toss as many darts as possible because you Just. Never. Know.

Why not?

The $60 entry fee was tough to swallow. It’s not really the kind of cash I keep lying around (kids, bills, you know the drill), but that “what if?” ate at me until I couldn’t stand it anymore. 

So . . . it’s entered. Will anything come of it? I don’t know. Probably not. (?) But I wrote it, I’m proud of it, so why not?

That’s it. 

Why not?

It will be months before I hear anything, if I hear anything at all. The entry will be long forgotten by then, and I will likely be far into the next project, anyway. . . .

~UPDATE~

Dear Reader,

I am happy to report that Saving Summer has made it to the quarterfinal round. 

Scriptapalooza 2021 Quarterfinalists

Will it advance to the top 100? I don't know. It seems like a long shot, but I am happy for this (however temporary) "high" and will hang on to the idea that yes: maybe I still am moving in the right direction.

I rarely like announcing things, but felt this news needed to hit the blog, if only for posterity's sake. 

One day I will look back on this post and. . . . 

I don't know. We'll see. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

In Full Disclosure

Warning: Honesty Ahead

Release weeks stress me out. 

Promotion stresses me out. 

Tweeting "buy my books!" stresses me out. 

Why? It feels too much like a whistle in a hurricane. A shout into the void. There's so much *white noise* that I don't even know where to begin to make myself stand out in the crowd. 

I get that it's a necessary part of #indie authoring, but I hate begging. I feel like I'm bothering people. (Buy! Share! Re-Tweet! Review!) I feel like *that* author, and I don't want to be. I also don't have the marketing budget or audience to gain any kind of traction in such a saturated marketplace, though I'm *so* thankful for the few cheerleaders I do have and can always count on to help spread the word. 

In full disclosure, this is what my indie career looks like (according to Amazon, at least):

this image is not available

*sigh*

I miss August 2012 the most, where I sold over 4,500 units . . . but some things in this world are just beyond my control.

What do I have control of?

Writing.

So . . . I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go after ALL I NEVER WANTED.

I've slowly come to realize that I'm not as passionate about YA literature today as I was in the past, and I wondered if this meant it was time to spread my wings and try something new. 

I still don't know, actually. 

But I do know that on Friday I opened up a file on a story I'd plotted a couple of years ago. I know the characters, the setting, what's going to happen--it's all there laid out for me.

I just went in to take a look, but I saw in one document that I'd already written a first line.

The wheels began turning, and almost immediately I had a first paragraph. Then I had a first page. 

I don't quite recognize this voice. It's still me, but different. More grown up, maybe? 

I don't know. I don't know how this book is going to turn out or where it's going to fit into the market or if I should even care about the market at all. 

I'm writing again.

And it feels so, so good.

At the end of the day, I love what I do--it still brings me joy. Sure, my audience isn't as big today as it was in the past. The truth is that I might have "peaked" with CROSS MY HEART. But there are a few of you out there, and you've not hesitated to tell me that my stories still bring you joy (and move you to tears). 

A small difference, but a difference nonetheless.

Someone out there, when asked who their favorite author is, just might say "Katie Klein."

And, in this industry, it seems selfish to ask for anything more than that.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

On the Things That Hold Us Back

You know what? 

Those things in your life that you defend yourself against are most likely exactly what you need to get rid of to grow.

Case in point: after college, I was afraid to move away from my hometown for a long time. I loved it because it was comfortable and familiar. My friends and family were there. I knew the roads and traffic patterns and where to eat (and where not to eat). It was so safe, and we (as humans) all crave a certain degree of safety. What would happen if I let all of that go? I'd have to start over somewhere new. I would be in unfamiliar territory. My routines would change. My whole LIFE would change.

The truth? My life didn't change a whole lot when we moved to the city. I still had my routines. It didn't take long to learn the area. And the changes that DID occur were mostly positive. Turns out, I refused to move for all those years, but I needed that move to break free and grow as a person. A new city has given me the courage to branch out and try new things and learn more about who I am.

I'm not saying you should pack your bags and move (though maybe you should!) but that there are things in our lives that we are resistant to--dead-set against--and that these things could very well be holding us back in certain areas of our lives.

Recognize them, and try to remove them.

It could be scary . . .

but it could also be worth it.  

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Let's Talk About Love

I'd like to say that I was totally cutting edge as a high school student, especially when it came to music--that I knew all about these obscure, up-and-coming bands before they were even up or coming. . . .

Or maybe just the obscure--the singer/songwriters and bands with good music who were also completely underrated or still in their "dive bar" phase.

But that would be a lie.

A BIG one.

The truth is I cut my teeth on whatever was playing on the local bubblegum pop station (it was the late '90s, after all). The radio waves into my room and car were filled with Backstreet Boys, 'N Sync, and Britney Spears. Occasionally we'd hear something from Alanis Morissette and I would think: God, I am so freaking cool, listening to this. So cutting edge.

But stranger still, I could find a song in just about every genre that I liked. The hymns and Southern gospel from church. The classical music I was learning on piano or would listen to while studying. The country songs my mom would play in her car. The classic rock my dad sometimes listened to in his. Oldies. Forties. Baroque. Broadway. Rap. Psuedo-rap (Weird Al's "Amish Paradise," anyone)?

But if there is one singer who carried me through the brunt of my late teen emo/angst phase--where I loved a million boys who refused to love me in return--it was . . . 

(wait for it)

Celine Dion.

Yes.

That Celine Dion.

Especially this album, released in 1997:

You have No. Idea. how many times I played through these songs on any given week as I lamented all of the crushes and loves who were not meant to be (already had a girlfriend, had already placed me solidly in the "friend zone," too old, etc.). A circle of "he loves me's" and "he loves me not's" as I misinterpreted every signal given by every boy I came in contact with. 

But what if he loved me? 

But what if he loved me? 

But what if he loved me? 

So I would imagine our love while Celine belted out those high notes in the background, even as the guys' faces changed out from week to week--one "love" after another, after another.

So, yes. Celine Dion accompanied me through my late teen emo years, singing me safely to the end of that disaster.  

I am somewhat ashamed. 

But somewhat not ashamed at all. :D

Be Brilliant! 

(And Happy Friday!)

~Katie~

On Resting

I'm noticing a pattern, and I wonder if this is something you've experienced, too:

You have one week where you are completely gung-ho about a project. You're writing (or painting, or creating) and new ideas seem to fall into your lap. You're sending out short stories and poems. Crafting new ones. Working on outlines. Drafting. Brainstorming new ideas and this lasts for days and days . . . until it stops.

And everything just pauses.

You feel like you should write (or paint, or create) but you can't. So you binge watch the Twilight movies, instead, and remember how horribly wonderful they are. . . .

Well apparently this is normal: sprint a mile, walk a mile, sprint, walk.

We need these resting periods, and should embrace them--that is, not beat ourselves up over not being "productive" because it's likely in a few days we'll hit another stride.

All that to say: It was nice reuniting with those sparkly vampires last week. ;)

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Throwback: "The Why"

Previously seen on Katie Klein Writes....

I first began to take writing seriously--as something I could do forever--in college. (I blame Dreamland by Sarah Dessen--a book I needed SO MUCH in high school but didn't have access to at the time.) But . . . I didn't think I had it in me to sit down and write an entire novel. Because, when you think about everything that goes into creating a full-length work, it can be paralyzing. Character development. Plot. Dialogue. Scene development. Story arcs.

What. The. Heck.

I did the reading and I did the outlining, and I realized NONE of it mattered if I couldn't get 50,000 words onto paper. It seemed like such a huge task. I didn't believe I had what it takes, because every time I sat down to write, I just couldn't get to "the end."

But then, just before my last semester of college, I realized I had to scrap the details. Characters and scenes and description could be fixed later. I needed words. I had to prove to myself that I could do this.

That summer, I wrote my very first book. It was pretty bad. I'm sure it will never see the light of day. But I wrote it, and it was all mine, and I realized that I could tell a story in 50,000 coherent words. It was possible. After that, I never had trouble with word count again--characters, arcs, description--those still frustrate the hell out of me, but never word count. I've got that covered. I beat that block as soon as I wrote that first "the end."

But what I've learned along the way is this:

If you want to do this--if you REALLY want to be a writer--you have to find the "why."

Why do you want to do this? Why is this important? Why do you feel this pull? Why do you think it matters?

You're going to need to know the answer, because it's not going to be easy. You're going to start all determined, and then you're going to hit the "messy middle" and you're not going to know where to go. You're going to want to give up. 

If you don't want this to happen, it's going to come down to the "why."  

Why do you need to tell this story? Why do you need to write it right now?

Why do I write?

I write because I have stories in my head that need to get out. I write because I want to make a difference. I want to create characters that speak to readers--characters they can relate to. I want to take readers away from the world for a little while. Make them squeal with joy. Make them cry. 

I write because I don't see the world in black and white. This annoys some of the people around me, but I see gray--things that aren't so easily defined. No one, simple answer. I like playing devil's advocate. I can find the humanity in anyone--remember that we ALL have stories, no matter who we are or what we've done. I believe anyone can change. I believe anyone can make a difference.

I write to offer a new perspective--to try to make sense of the world we live in and who we are as people.

The "why" is one of the most important parts of my writing.

If you want to be a writer, if you're already a writer and struggling--if you're not a writer but there's something else you feel compelled to do--sit down with a sheet of paper or a new computer document and spend some time working on the "why."

You'll need this.

Your "why" is your motivation.  

And knowing this is just as important as getting that story out of your head and onto paper.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

On Shooting for the Moon

On yearbook day of my ninth or tenth grade year, a guy--we'll call him Kevin--scribbled a quote in black Bic along my inner spine:

"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll still land among the stars."

I scoffed. 

What a loser. 

This was the late 90s, personal computers were finally making their way into homes, and I could picture Kevin at his desk, waiting patiently for his dial-up to connect (because back in the old days it took like, five whole minutes just to log on to the internet), searching for that perfect quote to enlighten us all--because he did, in fact, sign everyone's yearbook with the same mantra:

Shoot for the moon.

Shoot for the moon.

Shoot for the moon.

*sigh*

See, I wasn't exactly my best self in high school--wasn't sure where I fit in. It was hard being me when I didn't even know who me was. I had serial "best friends"--a new one every year, and struggled with opening up to people. If I'm honest with myself, all I really wanted was for everyone to like me (which, as we all know, is impossible).

I think that's all Kevin wanted, too--to be liked.

And despite four years of complete asshattery, Kevin wrote me a final yearbook message just before graduation. In sum, he didn't know how I managed to give him so much hassle, and still remain "nice."

Because at the end of the day, he still somehow thought I was a nice person. 

I should never have laughed at Kevin's yearbook quote, because fifteen years later I'm taking his advice. I'm shooting for the moon.

And that's what you should be shooting for, too. Because if we want to make an impact we have to stop thinking so small. We have to think big--bigger than we could possibly imagine. Because even if we miss our intended target, we've still taken that risk. Stepped outside our comfort zone. Left planet earth behind.

We're still soaring among the stars.

And it's a beautiful world up here.

So thanks, Kev. You were right all along. ;)

~Katie~

On "The Silence"

I'm *so* sorry for the radio silence, you guys! 

It's honestly been a crazy few months (see previous post).

In addition to moving from country house to city apartment, we had a lovely jack@ss living above that required an additional move (to another building, higher floor, which turned out to be very cool, actually), and getting settled again.

(not my city, but a beautiful metaphor)

There was also the teaching and the family unit and the day to day juggling of life of which I'm certain you're familiar.

Then there was this election nonsense, and, to be honest, on some days it felt good not logging on to the computer and checking FB/Twitter.

I was also editing a project, so even though I wasn't posting, I was hard at work. :D

But I did want to check back in and let you know I'm still alive and kickin'.

Hopefully I've reached a place in this project where I can start posting more consistently. 

*fingers crossed*

~Katie~

On Moving

My family and I just relocated (about an hour and a half from our former digs). We went from house to apartment, from country to city, so it's been an adventure for sure.

I'm still working on getting unpacked and settled, so not much writing is going on.

I'm definitely practicing my minimalist/essentialist beliefs right now, since we lost over half of our space, but we're already appreciating some of the things our new location has to offer.

So . . . I hope you'll forgive the sparse updates as I slowly work my way back to "normal" (whatever that is). ;)  

a bientot!

~Katie~

Random Acts

A few nights ago we drove down to the river about thirty minutes away to walk the boardwalk, check out the wildlife, and watch the sunset. 

It was a warm summer evening made better by the little boy who thought enough to offer us two pieces of bread from his bag--one for each of my kids--so they could feed the turtles, too.

I thanked him several times, just so he would know how much this seemingly insignificant random act of kindness meant to us.

The world can be a beautiful place. :D

Be Brilliant....

~Katie~

What Matters Most

So. . . . Things have been a bit crazy, lately.

It sort of started mid-January, when my father-in-law had a massive heart attack, underwent life-saving surgery, and spent just over two weeks in the hospital.

Since my husband is an only child, his dad moved in with us to recover when he was finally released.

We moved our master bedroom upstairs to the bonus room and made our room his. My husband makes his dad's breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Makes sure he's taking his medication. Keeps him on his diet. Washes clothes. Washes extra dishes. (A LOT of extra dishes.) Grocery shops. Cleans wounds. Tests blood sugar levels. Works with nurses and doctors.

Every. Single. Day.

It's mind-boggling how, when something like this happens, life just shifts in an entirely new, unexpected direction.

Our routine was pretty chaotic on a good day.

Now?

Let's just say I don't really remember February. 

At. All.

I think I remember Valentine's Day. But I remember two days before even more. (Because that's the day my husband brought the flowers home for me--he doesn't really like being told what to do.) ;)

That's it, though. Otherwise it's been non-stop, from morning until night, trying to keep up with our regular lives and take care of an extra person until he's on his feet again.

It's been exhausting. Every day blurring into the next.

We're grateful he's okay. And he's recovering nicely.

This experience has taught me some valuable lessons, though.

See, my husband and his dad haven't always had that great of a relationship. This isn't really something that we expect to change (even after all of this, old habits die hard).

So what I learned in February (even if I can't remember much of it) is that family matters.

So does doing what's right, even when it's hard.

That is all.

~Katie~

On Asking

"Everybody struggles with asking. . . . It isn't so much the act of asking that paralyzes us--it's what lies beneath: the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of rejection, the fear of looking needy or weak. The fear of being seen as a burdensome member of the community instead of a productive one. . . . American culture in particular has instilled in us the bizarre notion that to ask for help amounts to an admission of failure" (Palmer pg. 13).

Am reading: The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer

~:|:~

I recently had to "ask." I needed some information for a story I couldn't get on my own. I LOATHE bothering people. I hate it. Truly.

But . . . I asked. I sent out five emails. 

Two responded.

Were happy to help.

I thanked them.

Profusely.

The three who ignored me?

Well, I didn't die of embarrassment. So I decided it is what it is. 

Point is, I stepped out . . . and I'm glad I did. :D

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~ 

On Being an Impostor

I still suffer (very much) from Impostor Syndrome--the idea that I'm a fraud and that one day you will all figure out the truth and crucify me like I deserve.

The thing is, I've been working on projects outside of the name Katie Klein, mostly because I'm an "academic" (see those quotation marks? FRAUD. I don't feel like an academic. At all.) who needs annual publishing credits. 

Every year in my review: Publish! Publish! Publish!

It's been worse the last two and a half years (see: new baby/now toddler in the house).

I've had nothing new to add to my resume.

Surviving? 

I'm surviving. So there's that.

But not quite what the department heads and deans are looking for.

When I hit a fiction writing lull this fall, I started writing poetry. (I think the last poem I wrote was as an undergrad.) I worked on a dozen pieces for a few weeks, did a lot of editing and revising and reading out loud, and then picked some journals to submit them to. Just to see.

I don't think rejection ever stops hurting, by the way. It stings. Hard.

It's in our nature to take it personally.

You don't love my work? 
(You don't love me?)

You don't want my work? 
(You don't want me?) 

My work isn't good enough?
(I'm not good enough?)

But sometimes even being accepted doesn't feel that great, because doubts are quick to follow.

You want to publish my poem? Why? The so and so literary journal literally JUST rejected this same piece last week. You didn't say you loved it, just that you were going to use it. Does that mean it's mediocre? You responded way too fast. You must be desperate for submissions.

My goal is to have five poems published this calendar year. As of this post, I have two forthcoming.

I thought that if I reached five, I might feel legitimate. A "sometimes-poet," maybe.

But I don't think so. 

I think I'll still feel like an impostor. 

A fluke.

I'll happily add the credits to my vita, but still feel too nervous to post links or share with friends and family.

A fraud.

It's hard, sharing your work with the world. Really, really hard.

And I'm learning it's difficult to celebrate a "win," even, because there's the voice in our heads that says we don't deserve this. We didn't earn it. It's not real.

Why is that? I wonder. And does it ever go away?

~Katie~

Random Thought: On Ancestry

My daughter and I have been researching our (her) heritage. It's interesting that my entire family--all the way back to the late 1700s--grew up in the same part of the state I live in now.

They were also farmers.

All of them.

Now, I tend toward the belief that we carry our ancestors with us (in both DNA and spirit).

So why do I kill Every. Plant. I've. Ever. Owned?

Do you know what would happen if I had to rely on farming to pay the bills?

I'd DIE.

ALL of civilization would die.

So thank you, farmers. 

And thank you, ancestors. For the Grit. Determination. Can't really explain how I managed to kill a CACTUS that one time, but whatever. 

~Katie~ 

P.S. My daughter grew daisies on the porch last summer. They were beautiful. I wasn't allowed to touch them. :D 

P.P.S. We came from Scotland, by the way. But I'm mostly just North Carolinian. ;)

Throwback: On Writer's Block

This post originally appeared on the blog in Nov. 2014

It was like I woke up one morning and it was GONE.

It came out of nowhere--this not knowing.

Where this story was heading.

The words I needed to tell it.

All. Gone.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find them. The words I did find I couldn't make work.

It went beyond "spewing crap," which I encourage every writer to do, even when it's hard: just get something on paper.

I couldn't even spew crap, and it was one of the worst feelings ever, because I AM writing, and writing is ME: we are not one without the other. And at the time I honestly didn't think I would ever get past this block.

Writer's Block

I've been blocked before--sure. I'm a writer. It comes with the territory. But being pregnant with my second kid brought more than just a block. Before, whenever I was stuck, I could do what all good writers suggest and it would work:

Take a break. Read a book. Take a nap. Work on another project. Go for a walk. Movie binge. Go back to the last place everything "worked" and take a different route. . . .

All sound advice.

But what do you do when you're pregnant and puking your guts out every morning, on vitamins and Unisom to make it through the day, and you Just Can't Write?

I knew I needed to get as much written as possible before the baby came, because I would be worthless the first few months after he was born (at the very least), but every time I tried the session would end in anger and frustration and tears. I would write for "hours" with only a few sentences or a paragraph to show for it. 

So I gave up. I put the laptop away. I quit.

I felt like such a failure.

I worried I would be forgotten--that, by the time I was able to publish again people would have moved on. 

I felt incomplete.

So I started drawing--something I've always enjoyed, but never really made time for. And it helped. The block, it seems, only divided the "word" part of my brain from my fingers. Everything else seemed to work just fine.

Drawing became my outlet. My release. It kept me centered. Sane.

Until the baby was born and I was too exhausted to even care about making up stories. Until the holidays passed. Until I started to feel more like myself--still sleep-deprived, but more able to deal with it all. Until one day I picked up my laptop and opened the file. . . .

Here, I confirmed rather quickly that yes--everything I'd tried to add to my story while pregnant was utter crap.

And I fixed it. I removed and reworded.

I was back.

And now I'm here to remind you that this, too, shall pass--whatever it is you're dealing with right now. Whatever is keeping you from giving 100% to your writing or your passion: the block doesn't last forever. 

There are unfortunate realities--realities we have no control over. It's better to just admit that they exist and move on from there. We can't change the reality, but we can choose our attitude--how we deal with it. 

Fact: I had to stop writing for a while. 

It was upsetting, yes, but I began to see it as an opportunity to focus my attention elsewhere. I had to realize that "failing" at writing for all those months didn't make me a failure as a person. 

What's most important is that I learned from the experience and returned at the appointed time. 

And you will, too.

That is all.  :D

~Katie~

A Conversation

Mr. Klein: What are you doing?

Me: (typing maniacally) Writing.

Mr. Klein: But I thought you said you quit. You were crying. You said it's over, that you give up.

Me: Never.

See Also: On Quitting :D

~Katie~

Hummingbirds

The other day we were watching a History Channel special on pirates when we recognized one of the "talking heads." It was a Blackbeard actor we'd met at a local festival last year. 

(I hail from North Carolina, so Blackbeard is "our pirate." No, really. One trip to The Outer Banks and you will realize that we OWN him.) 

Anyway, this guy is an expert in all things Blackbeard, and does many school and town appearances and lectures each year, and is obviously great at what he does because, hello, The History Channel.

And I'm like . . . Wow. Now there's a guy who's found his niche. 

That's when I turn to my husband and say: "I'm not an expert in anything."

I have two degrees. I feel like I've been writing and teaching forever, yet I'm an expert in nothing.

This might be why I've never been able to get this blog focused and moving in a specific direction. I have no "platform" because I'm just not a platform kind of person. If there's something I'm interested in, I just sort of put it out there. 

(More often than not, I hold back because . . . relevance.)

So no, there's not much cohesion going on in these parts. Then I think about all of the people who do have a platform and are doing it well, and all the marketing experts screaming "find your platform!" and I'm just like . . . okay. I suck.

But then I heard something in a lecture from Elizabeth Gilbert, and it might just be what sets me free. Because I realized:

I am a hummingbird.

You have your jackhammers, who know what they want and how to get it and never stray off course. And then there are the hummingbirds. We flutter from flower to flower picking up things here and dropping them off there, pollinating everything in our paths. We feed and fly all day long. We can fly up, down, forward, and backward--any direction we want. And we can hover. 

As a writer, I know I'm a jackhammer. I have to write--that's my ultimate purpose.

But, as a human being, I'm a metaphorical hummingbird.

Last year my reading took me from Alaska to China, from the Revolutionary War to rural farms to the desert. It took me from mindfulness to art to goals to education to giftedness to a man named Dabrowski who believed that the trials we face are essential in helping us become our authentic selves. I read about shame and writing and creativity and storytelling and cleaning and the importance of myth.

Up. Down. Forward. Backward.

I find a topic that interests me, I read up on it (sometimes obsessively) until I've sated that need. 

Hover.

Then I'm on to something else.

And really, I should've come to this conclusion much, much sooner. I have two liberal arts degrees, including a master's in liberal studies. This means I spent my academic years focusing on a "breadth" of knowledge over depth. 

Because this is the person I am--and have always been.

And since "fix the blog" appears on almost every goal list I've ever made, I'm doing something different this year.

I'm not going to fix anything. 

I'm just going to post, and not apologize for the lack of focus--complete randomness, at times. I'm embracing my inner hummingbird. When I find something worth sharing, I'll talk about it. 

This will be a curiosity-driven blog. Like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get.

Could be a crazy ride.

But I hope you continue to join me. :D

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

P.S. If you want to view the Liz Gilbert lecture I referenced, you can find it here. It was a Super Soul Session, and well worth the watch. After watching, I'd love to know if you're a hummingbird or a jackhammer. Because, quite frankly, the world needs all of us.