4/27/18 – UPDATE

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It’s been a while and I wanted to give an update on me and my writing because this matters to me and if you’re reading this, maybe it matters to you, too.

  • It’s been almost a full year since Good You Were Here went live on Amazon! Craziness. To celebrate the anniversary (May 19th) I’m probably going to be doing a giveaway. More on that in the future.
  • I finished a first draft of my short play, Royal Bring Your Dog to Dinner Day. I was writing it for a local homeschool group and learned they are not actually going to be performing a play this year. No worries. It was a lot of fun and I look forward to seeing it performed sometime in 2019.
  • After finishing the play, I picked back up my 2015 NaNo Novel Tulip Season. There’s a lot of very good stuff there but it needs some work and some revising. Not a lot of headway on that but we’ll see. Definitely a story I want to finish and send out into the world sooner than later.
  • I got a little bit stuck and overwhelmed with Tulip Season since it’s a longer book, so I picked back up a story I’ve been developing probably since 2010. It has a working title of Beanstalk and Basket and it’s a crossover of Jack and the Beanstalk and Little Red Riding Hood. I’m really excited at the prospect of writing a book for a younger audience since my 13-year-old sister and 8-year-old brother love reading and have been asking me for books geared more towards them.

There are several reasons why I’ve been more absent for almost a month from my blog and from my writing social media in general. I’ve been busy with: life in general, my two other jobs, family/friends/relationship. But I’ve also been struggling with a general lack of sleep, some anxiety, and imposter syndrome.

If you aren’t familiar with imposter syndrome, Wikipedia defines it thus: “Impostor syndrome (also known as impostor phenomenon, fraud syndrome or the impostor experience) is a psychological pattern in which people doubt their accomplishments and have a persistent, often internalized fear of being exposed as a “fraud”.”

For me, this has meant feeling like my writing isn’t ‘that good’, that no one really cares about my writing, that I’m too lazy to be a full-time writer, that I should stop trying to make it more than a hobby because I’ll just be wasting my time, and that no one will take me seriously. I have good support systems helping me overcome this but it’s going to be a process. Over this last month, I kept wanting to give updates, especially as I was tip-typing away and making progress on stories, but I kept thinking, “Eh, no one cares, it doesn’t really matter.”

But it does matter. A lot. Stories matter and no one else can tell the stories I have to tell. It may be slow going, but there’s no reason I can’t potentially help support myself with my writing. It will take a lot of hard work, but I’m capable of hard work. I want to put in the work. I just have to believe it matters.

So there’s my update. It is still my goal to have a blog post up every Tuesday and Friday. My overall writing goal for the year is to publish at least one book. I had originally had the lofty ambition of publishing at least three books, but I’m okay with downsizing that goal so I can put out something truly beautiful.

Thank you for reading and thank you for sticking with me. Stories coming soon, I promise. 

God bless,

Clare

 

Related Posts:

Future Projects – 1

What I Wrote Today 4

It Is Good That We Are Here – The Why Behind the Title

 

 

What I Wrote Today – 4

An excerpt from the play I’m working on for a local homeschool group, currently titled Royal Bring Your Dog to Dinner Day.

 

(Messenger enters stage left)

Chef: Another message, Messenger?

Messenger: Naturally. (Shakes out the scroll) Ahem. A Message from Her Majesty the Queen to the Royal Chef. Dear Chef. The dogs will be arriving shortly.

Chef: Wait, wait, wait. Dogs? What does she mean, DOGS? And why are they arriving shortly? How long from now is shortly, exactly?

Messenger: Let me finish. Ahem. The Duchess and the Other Duchess and I are getting our nails done, we will be joining the dogs just as quick as we can. Give them a little appetizer and keep them entertained. They’re no trouble at all, I promise.

Chef: (wailing) No!

Messenger: (Finishing message) Thanks a million, you’re the best, love and hugs, Her Majesty the Queen.

Chef: Is there a postscript where she says haha, just kidding?

Messenger: There is not.

Chef: (putting head in hands) Of course not.

Sous: (patting the Chef on the shoulder) There, there, Chef. It’ll be okay.

Messenger: Any return message, Chef?
Chef: Uh…tell her it is our Royal Pleasure to watch the Royal Dogs.

Messenger: (giving the chef a thumbs up) I will do that. Hang in there, guys.

Chef: Yes, yes, thank you, Messenger, goodbye.

(Messenger exits stage right)

Chef: Anyone know how soon shortly is?

(Trumpets blast)

Commis 1: I guess shortly is over now.

(Reenter the Messenger stage right with Chubby and Tubby and one leash dragging behind him)

Messenger: May I present to the Royal Kitchen Staff, the Royal Dogs.

(The kitchen staff all bow to the royal dogs)

Commis 2: Not to be disrespectful, but isn’t there someone who’s job it actually is to watch the Royal Dogs? You know…maybe a Royal Dogsitter?
Messenger: There are actually five of them, but they all have the day off.

(Royal Kitchen Staff all groan)

 

Thanks for reading! God bless.

 

More Like This:

What I Wrote Today – 1

What I Wrote Today – 2

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How Ted Met Penny

Today, Ash Wednesday falls on Valentine’s Day. A day to reflect on the brevity of life and a day to celebrate romantic love. I thought it would be fitting to share something from a story of mine that captures the spirit of this day.

My short play To Whom It May Concern was performed back in May of 2015 by the Words Players Theatre in Rochester, MN as part of their 10th Annual Thornton Wilder Play Festival. It was an incredible experience writing, casting and directing what became a deeply personal and powerful work of art.

The play opens with newlyweds Penny and Ted getting moved into their first house. While unpacking, Penny discovers a stack of letters from her deceased husband, Howard. The letters are addressed “to whom it may concern”, and Penny realizes they are for Ted.

I’m planning on talking more about this play and the profound impact it had on my life in another post, but for now, I want to share an excerpt from the novelization of it that I’m working on.

Happy Valentine’s Day, hope Lent gets off to a good start for you!

ToWhomItMayConcernPoster2

Photo credit: Joel Kuhlmann

Jordan had absolutely insisted that Ted come to the party. Ted would have much rather stayed home, read a book, and gone to bed at 9:30. But Jordan said he would not be moving again for forty years, at least, and Ted owed it to him to come and warm his house with everyone else. So Ted found himself getting out of a taxi on a picturesque suburban street in front of a shabby but quaint little house. Jordan was getting married in a few months and planned to work on improving the place before the wedding. It began to rain as Ted walked up the steps, and he was greeted noisily by Jordan who was already tipsy. Jordan promptly introduced Ted to twelve people who greeted him politely and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the evening. They were all dressed as though this were a formal affair and Ted regretted having worn his favorite sweater, keenly aware of the small hole in the left sleeve. He knew one other person, Ralph, the fellow who played the piano the entire night, but Ralph was not much of a talker.
There was a woman there who stood out to Ted because, though she was not the center of attention, people seemed to gravitate towards her anyway. She was a woman in her late twenties who dressed and styled her hair simply but elegantly. She didn’t say much, but she laughed loudly and appreciatively at everyone who spoke to her.
Jordan tried to get everyone to play parlor games for an hour and finally, they urged Ralph to play them a slow one and paired off to dance around the piano.
So Ted, feeling underdressed and out of place, had gotten himself a glass of scotch and handful of oyster crackers and went out to the back porch. He found he was not alone — the woman who laughed loudly was sitting on the steps, watching the rain, swirling her champagne around in its glass.
“Oh, hello,” she said, startled as Ted came out the back door.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Ted said, staring at her and taking a step back. “Am I…”
“No, no, please, come on out,” she replied. “There’s all the wrong kind of noise in there right now, I know,”
“Ah, yes,” Ted laughed nervously and walked till he stood at the top of the steps, glancing nervously down at the top of her auburn head. He noticed she had her shoes off and was resting her feet in the puddle forming at the bottom of the steps.
“So, uh, how do you know Jordan?” he asked.
“I’m good friends with Cynthia,”
“His fiance,”
“Yes,”
A distant clap of thunder could be heard echoing over the trees and houses.
“Go on, sit down,” she invited, patting the space beside her on the step.
Hesitantly, Ted sat down beside her, stealing a look at her out of the corner of his eye. She was so beautiful in a soft, easygoing way but something about the crinkles on the corners of her eyes revealed a deep sadness in her heart, somewhere.
He looked away and cleared his throat. “You know, Jordan is the first of my friends to get married,”
She nodded absentmindedly. “Mm. I was the first of mine,”
“Oh,” Ted was surprised how crestfallen he felt at hearing this. “Is your husband here tonight?”
She glanced at him and smiled so sadly it melted his heart. “No. I haven’t got a husband anymore. He died,”
Ted raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be. It was years ago,”
Ted didn’t know what to say, but she changed the subject anyway. “They’ll have a nice backyard,” she observed. “Once Jordan cleans it up a bit.”
“That tree would be perfect for a tree house.”
She laughed. “You’re right.”
“And I think Cynthia was talking about putting in a garden.”
She sighed heavily, a contented sigh. “I like rain.”
“Mm. I like it during the day, but not when it’s dark out like this.”
“Mm, yes. I wish it would clear up so we could see the stars,” She looked upward at the curtain of raindrops coming down out of the inky night sky.
“Do you know how to find the constellations?” Ted asked her.
She looked at him. “No! Do you?”
“Most of them,” Ted said, smiling nervously at her.
“I lived in the city for so long, I got used to not bothering to try and see the stars,”
They fell silent for a while, listening to the rain in front of them and the merry sounds of the party behind them. They sat, soaking in the quiet between them, a quiet that was comfortable and full, like a body after a good meal.
Ted looked at the woman, at her feet wet in the puddle, at her not caring that the hem of her dress was also getting wet, and back again to her face. He took in the imperfections and the colors in the dim, warm light of the porch lamp. In that moment, her softness made him brave, and he scooted slightly closer to her.
To his delight and surprise, she reciprocated the scoot.
“Do you live around here?” he asked her.
“No, I live downtown,”
“Really? So do I,” Ted said. “I have a little studio apartment,”
“What do you do?” she asked.
“I’m an editor — or, I’m becoming one,” Ted replied. “I’m up for a job with a small publishing company,”
“Really? That sounds wonderful. Do you edit books, newspapers?”
“Books.”
“So you like to read,” she said with a smile.
He nodded. “I love it,”
“What do you read?”
“Mainly mystery novels,”
She laughed that loud, pretty laugh. “I don’t know much about mystery stories. What are the good ones?”
“The classics are always good — Sherlock Holmes and all that,” Ted replied.
“I should read more,” she said softly.
They were quiet for a while. She drew her feet up out of the puddle and shivered a little.
“Here,” Ted took off his jacket and placed it over his shoulders. He started to take his hand away, but she caught it, holding it on her shoulder. She turned and looked at him, smiling warmly.
He smiled back bashfully, but she scooted closer and so did he.
Now here’s a real woman, Ted remembered thinking. Nothing fake or put on about her. She had a genuine sincerity that matched his, something he hadn’t encountered before. By the end of the night he got her number, and, from then on, he had eyes for no one else.

 

Thank you for reading, God bless!

Clare

 

More posts like this:

What I Wrote Today 1

What I Wrote Today 2

What I Wrote Today 3

Good You Were Here, Chapter 17