Ruby Standing Deer

I admit right here and now that I am a pessimist. Not just a little one either. Being a pessimist make one negative. Being negative will kill you as fast or slowly as drugs. Your body reacts to your emotions. Did you know that? Dentists found bad teeth can affect your organs. I am here to tell you so can being negative.

Say it, Believe it, and say it again. Again…. Never stop believing in yourself.

A little lady beetle crawled across the sidewalk in front of me. I bent over and watched this determined creature scamper across to the grass. I did wonder, why not fly if you have that ability. I would.

The next time you pass by a plant, animal or person do not pass by in a rush. Take a single moment out you life and observe, or smile. A singe thought or smile will go deep within and if you give it just a second of your time it just may blossom into something wonderful.

I waited, paced and finally USPS brought me my book, my first book to look over and Ok it for print. Once I opened the package, my heart did a double beat. In my hands was a book, not with another’s name on it, but my own. Wow, mine.

I ran my hands over the smooth cover and slowly opened it and thumbed through the pages, saw my writing and my stomach flopped. Is this normal? I felt all powerful for an hour or so before panic set in. What if no one likes the cover? What if the endorsements on the back aren’t enough to get someone tempted enough to open it, read it. I sat down and started to read it myself. Being as it is my book, It sounded interesting, very much so.

Of course it did, it’s mine! Is this how all authors feel when they get their own book in their hands? Probably so, even if it is not their first, like mine is. I hope I will not be the only one to get excited to open it and look at chapter one. Time will, of course tell. Still, I am excited. Crazy excited!

My mind was muddled and needed clearing after I woke from crazy dreams. We have a HUGE dog park–five miles worth. The land is waking up, Sage plants are poking their heads out after a long crazy mixed up winter of snow, drought, wind and more wind.

I took my four Jack Russell’s out thinking they would enjoy a wild run free of leashes. Of course, my hat ran off after a blast of angry wind and I had to convince it to stay on my head by tying it down. While doing this, I lost track of my dogs. I could hear barking so hurried off to investigate. I found them all in a mucky muck pond (wet clay) swimming after two pair of ducks. The ducks flew off leaving their pursuers stranded in the middle of the muck.

Now, wet clay is not like quicksand, but rather like glue. You do not sink. You loose your boots because the wet black much reaches out and sucks them in. You may know where I am going with this by now. Yep. I had to go in and pull out three of my four dogs. The biggest Jack reared and bucked his way out.

I had no choice but to scoop the other three up in my arms. They squirmed and fought and I know I must have looked like the Abdominal Mucky Muck. Two people found it far too funny to offer help. Why would they? They might have found out about Colorado’s wonderful clay sand soil first hand.

I felt my boots give way and there was NOT a thing I could do but trudge through the muck and get my dogs out. I dropped them off at the edge and wondered if I could walk barefoot for four miles back to the car or not. I decided I could and did. My blue jeans were dripping with black slime and jean jacket? I will have to retrieve it later. Maybe next mid-winter. The interior of my light grey car is now smeared with black doggy prints and a big butt print behind the steering wheel.

Oh, It did not stop there. NOOoooooo… I had to drag very reluctant dogs down the stairs where we have a sink for doggy baths. The wall behind the sink, once clean concrete is now black, the lower wall behind the sink is black, the floor….is multicolored and is dripping with muck. I am now in a robe waiting for my husband to wake from his night at work so I can shower, while wet dogs run amok being as I cannot get near them to dry them off. What fun spring is!

Frustration mounts as I hear artists, writers, editors speak about the cover of our books. Be honest, how many of you have glanced at covers while shopping for a book and passed it by because the cover did not appeal to you? Raise your hand if you are guilty. (raises hand)

I never gave it any thought until this came up about the color of my title. Too blue, too bright. So, now I am changing the color. Darkening the picture as well. Will it make a difference? Only passing time will disprove or prove me right or wrong, as well as the others who started this debate.

On the the picture. Myself, it makes me either take a second look or pushes my eye to the next book in line. “THEY are E-books! who cares?” Well, someone does, even if they never see the book cover again after they start reading. How many of you, while reading a paper book, glanced back at the cover? Be honest.

I’ll start. I have many times glanced back at the cover. Why? I do not really know. Maybe to pull me back into the story if something pulls me out. Or just to get a feel for the characters, the scenery. HOW do you do that with an e-book? Do you go back and look? Not me. Takes up too much time. What about you?

Timothy chose me as his Spotlight for Saturday a couple weeks ago and I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the podcast, and quite honored that he had chosen me for my short story, “Courage Through Fear,” which you will find in Evolution: Vol 1 along with 9 other well-written short stories. It is published by Evolved Publishing.

He has inspired me to write a book of short stories of my own, ghost stories with a “poetic justice” feel to each one.

Link to my pod-cast

http://timothycward.com/2012/02/11/saturday-spotlight-courage-through-fear-by-ruby-standing-deer/

Please check his site out for more books and stories he has chosen to Spotlight, along with podcasts of Evolved Publishing co-founders, Lane Diamond and D.T. Conklin.

I live with migraines, sometimes for days. I am fighting one now. As I wrote part of a story I realized I was doing so to distract myself from it. I ended up putting it into my next book, Circles– The Spirals of Life–

Below are parts of that story…

“Pain is a teacher. When we know pain, we can understand other people’s pain, animal’s pain. Those who have not felt real pain cannot reach out and comfort another. I had a woman, whose head would hurt, sometimes so bad she would beg for herbs to kill the bad Spirits in her. Other times, I would see her leave our camp, go off, and wander. Just wander, and allow her mind to do the same. She would come back and paint the pictures her mind remembered, some so beautiful the whole band would gather to see them. Many would ask her to paint them something.”

When I went on my Vision Quest to receive my adult name, my uncle took pieces of flesh from my arms so I could feel it, acknowledge it, and then move beyond it and seek the Spirit world. Yes, pain is a great teacher. Listen to it, and it will guide you places you would not otherwise have found.”

It finally hit. I have my first book published and as thrilling as it is, can  I do it again? Do all authors go through this period of uncertainty? For nearly three weeks, have not been able to go back to the second book, which waits for me, calls out my name. I see flaws that had not been there before. I question my abilities as a writer. A freezing fear has set in and I cannot get warm.

My son told me it is the same for him after he has worked so hard to make sure his paintings are perfect before a show, and after the show is over, he falls into a slump period. I thought this was silly, after all creating is what keeps us both going. Then this slump hit me, and I sit here, lap top ready, my story awaiting my next paragraph and my mind and fingers have disconnected.

Circles flowed out of me, poured onto my “paper” and I could not stop. Everyday, almost every hour, words came forth as if an unseen force, not me, was behind the keyboard. A rushing river of creation raced across the canyons like a spring flash flood that never slowed.

Will I get this back? When will I hear my charterers whisper in my ears again, telling me their story, encouraging me to push onward by their own excitement to tell their story? Maybe now that  I have written this blog my brain will tell my mind it is not frozen, merely waiting, for my fingers to write, and my characters were only sleeping, taking their own break. Waiting…