So let me tell you why I’m frustrated, pissed off and a little bit hurt. In the last year since my book, The Before Now and After Then, was released, I’ve had tons of people message me and call me and let me know how much they loved my book, or if they didn’t love they told me what parts they liked and didn’t like. Friends at AA meetings, strangers on Facebook and all different kinds of people bought my book, were supportive of my creative endeavors and allowed my dream to come true. But…I can’t say that for the majority of people in my life.
In the last few weeks I’ve been thinking that as I get older I might like to keep a journal or diary. I’m not really sure what I’ll put in it that is an different than my normal blog posts, but I’m thinking it will be more stream of consciousness and random thoughts instead of a well thought out blog post. If I’m being completely honest with myself, none of my blog posts are well thought out; they’re all random.
Readers either seem to relate to my really sappy posts about something thoughtful or they relate to my more brutally honest posts, of which this one will fit. Tonight, while catching up on The Following and Jane the Virgin, I found myself floating from one blog to the next. Some are my current favorites while some are blogs I used to follow on a regular basis. For the last few years I’ve noticed a growing trend that serious writers are criticizing bloggers as not being real writers because they don’t have any real impact on the world or that they don’t really have anything of value to say. I think this is quite interesting, as a blogger and author, because every industry PR exec from the fashion world to the tech world can tell you how profoundly bloggers affect the world, even directing the trends to the masses.
Wow! My first book review on my website. I’m not even really sure where to start. I don’t like stars, so none of my reviews will have a star rating. When I was a little kid in elementary school, I tended to always get blue stars instead of gold and red like the other students. At the end of my 2nd grade, I asked my teacher why I had always received blue stars and she said because she felt that they were exactly the color of my eyes. At the time, I didn’t understand what a powerful compliment she was giving me and I stayed stuck in the fact that my fellow classmates were prancing home papers emblazoned with gold stars while my refrigerator glowed back at me in a sea of blue stars.
Most nights I find myself struggling to fall asleep as thoughts of things I need to do and the worries of my life fill my head. Typically these are useless thoughts as there isn’t much more I can do than grabbing my phone for the 100th time and writing myself a note, text or email, all of which I forget in the morning. Recently I’ve been trying to think of more positive things to help soothe myself to sleep. A few nights ago I found myself doing this when I remembered that it had always been my dream to be on one of Oprah’s My Favorite Things shows, where she gifted thousands of dollars of gifts to her audience members. Now, I love a good gift. I do, as well, love to give gifts, but I’m going to be very, very honest and admit that I adore getting gifts, especially if someone has taken special time to find just the right thing. Clients often bring me candles for my office with scents that remind them of me or bags of their special Chex mix. These gifts are the most special because they come from the heart! I’m a sucker for a hand made card. But don’t get me wrong…I’ll take a Gucci pair of sunglasses any day! (Thanks Aunt Kathy!)
Recently, I’ve found myself trying to decide what book I’m going to read next based on reviews I read either on Goodreads or on reviews made by book bloggers. I had always said that as an author I would never post book reviews, feeling that my writing was best served on the other side, but I think that it’s time that I put my two cents into the equation, especially as an author.
It has been exactly one month since I’ve written anything on here. I’m not going to make any excuses for not writing and I’m not going to explain away the details of my last month. The reality is that I’ve spent most of my time behind my glasses, smoking cigarettes and drinking strong coffee from my French press, smudging my fingers with pens as I make notes and more notes, outlining my next two books, which I’m writing simultaneously.
While writing tonight, I found this extended version of Claire De Lune and my mind drifted. Almost exactly 7 years ago my mother entered a coma and passed away three weeks later. Only three months before she had been dancing to Bob Dylan in her kitchen, her platinum blonde hair bouncing and swaying to Subterranean Homesick Blues. Her smile and her laughter still haunt me and as much as I miss her, I know it was her time.