Category: change

A Big Shift and Perhaps My Last Leap

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Once again, I have let my blogging slide, but at least this time there’s a pretty good excuse. There’s been a lot going on internally, which isn’t necessarily anything anyone else is interested in. Despite this, I’ll attempt to give a brief update of a complete and total shift in mindset and soul. For anyone following along, it will matter in future blog posts to help understand the change in direction.

In August, I made the trip home to help care for my mother as we tried to find out why she was not doing well. What we learned was that a bowel obstruction at her age did not leave many options. A few days later, she was in hospice and died a few days after that. Suddenly we were planning her funeral and cleaning out her apartment. A trip that I had originally expected to last 4-5 days lasted almost 3 weeks. Parental relationships can be complicated, and I am still unwinding the impact of the absence of my mother in my life. That’s probably universal.

As I’ve worked through those changes, I read a book called The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer. There was nothing in there I hadn’t heard before, but somehow, he was able to put the information in a way that it broke through my confusion about the nature of our being, the practical applications of mindfulness, and what sensitivities indicate and how to work with them. Putting that understanding into application will be a lifelong process, but the work is already paying off. Every problem is an opportunity for growth, and that change in mindset is powerful.

The recent wildfires in Los Angeles came in the middle of this growth and have broken my heart. Not just in watching parts of my home of 25 years turn to ash, and worrying about friends that still live there, but in seeing the callous reaction of some people, and we all know who most of them are, to the suffering of fellow citizens and human beings. Claiming god is punishing them. Saying those liberals deserve it. Flat out lying and playing the blame game for political gain while the city is still burning, and lives are still being destroyed.

The fires have also burned away a part of me that was holding me back. Most of my life I’ve felt I’ve been working without a net – on my own, no one or nothing to catch me if I fall – always feeling like I’m just one slip away from utter destruction. I tried to make that anxiety my friend, always spurring myself to action so I wouldn’t fall. The problem is, that ‘friend’ would start screaming at me incessantly when it felt as if I were about to lose my grip. I’ve always longed for some security in this life, and then the fires revealed the truth. No one really has security. Those people had beautiful houses in a beautiful part of town. They had jobs, friends, and a thriving community. They had saved, invested, worked, planned and created this secure world for themselves, and in an instant, it was all gone. Everything they saved for. Everything they’d worked for. The beautiful house – gone. For some, the job – gone. The community – gone. Their security was an illusion and so has been my striving to build that for myself.

I have been hustling, struggling, saving, and plotting how to get through my life without falling. Trying to save enough to be able to afford to live in a nursing home when I’m old, since I don’t have any kids to look after me or help out. But the truth is, I’m at the very end of the baby boomer generation and the world is shifting under my feet as a new generation takes over. With the coming unending wave of natural disasters we face on this planet, I don’t know how the old financial system or our social structure can survive. I am saving, struggling, and planning for a world that may not exist when I get there. I may not even be alive anyway. Why am I sacrificing my present for a future that I am not guaranteed. I could find myself having wasted the last of my healthy years for absolutely no reason. It’s beyond foolish.

I’m vastly unprepared for retirement, even if I keep working, so it’s not like I can just ride off into the sunset and be fine. However, I’m done living for someday. I’m done worrying about someday. From now on, I live for right now, and right now I’m just fine. The rest will work itself out.

I will no longer hustle for work. I will take work that I love and love doing it. I have some regular clients, and I hope to build that with word of mouth. But Upwork? Nope. Not going back to the cesspool of scammers and exploitative cheapskates. When I fall short for the month, I can pull from what retirement I have. In two years, I can hope that social security survives in some form for me, though with the broligarchs running things now, it’s highly likely they will pull the rug out from all of us. All the money I paid in, gone, into their pockets.

Most importantly, I’m just not going to worry about someday. Besides, I have a feeling there are going to be some real immediate things to worry about over the next four years. Maybe I’ll be broke at 75. Maybe not. I know it will mean living a very simple life unless a book sells well, or I get more clients, but the freedom is so worth it.

And just like that, all those years of fear, anxiety, and worry evaporated. A million pounds lifted off my shoulders. For many years now, I couldn’t figure out why every day when I woke up, no matter how many hours I slept, I just wanted to go back to bed. I had no energy. I had no joy. But the day after this all shifted, I woke up with so much energy. I was so excited for the day. The reason is simple. There are no more “should”s in my day. No more “have to”s. My day… every day… is made up of “I can’t believe I get to”s!

What an incredible, fabulous, marvelous, beautiful thing that is. And if I can keep that going but end up broke at 75, well, at least I’ve had 15 years of living in joy. That will be worth it. At that point, I can go back to my California old age plan. When I’m out of money and can no longer work, I’ll just take a long walk West. Though maybe now that I’m in Missouri, South or East is also an option, and I might have to take a bus first to get there.

This blog will be changing a bit. No more hustle. No more updates on how work is going. To be honest, I don’t even care anymore if I ever publish a book, though I will, because I’ll self-publish. I have a feeling the love of writing is going to come roaring back with this shift.

The really fun thing is, ever since I made this shift, projects have been starting to show up. I’m helping a friend format and prepare his book for self-publishing. Helping another friend with data entry and marketing. And doing it, is utter joy. No stress. I’m even thinking of writing an entry for the writer’s guild’s next writing contest.

What I want more than anything is to just be and to do what I love with people I love. Finally, at age 60, the life I have always wanted, and perhaps my final great leap, has begun.

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A Life of Leaping into the Unknown

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My life has been a series of leaps of faith. I started leaping at just 20 when I transferred to a school in Hawaii I’d never even visited. The school wasn’t quite what I expected, and I left after a semester. Still, I continued to live and work in Hawaii for another year. I didn’t stick the landing, but I did land. It was a fun adventure, and many lessons were learned about a new culture and what it was like to be a minority.

Leaping to Yellowstone

I leaped back home, with a soft landing because of friends and family. I had a solid job in Sioux Falls, but I was miserable. I wasn’t pursuing my dreams. I was living a life of quiet desperation. So I quit my permanent job for a seasonal job in Yellowstone with no promise of work after a few months. Foolish, but I leaped anyway and nailed the landing. I had the summer of my life, meeting a lifelong friend in my roommate and realizing this leaping thing could keep going.

Heading to the Grand Canyon

Together with my roommate, we leaped to the Grand Canyon. Yet another seasonal job with no promise of work after a few months. This one would leave me a long way from home, unemployed. Oh well, there I went. The culture at the Grand Canyon was so different than the adventurous one at Yellowstone, so there was no interest in sticking around. While my roommate leaped back to Yellowstone, I kept skipping west to California.

The Giant Leap to California

Until that point in my life, whenever I’d leaped somewhere, I’d had a dorm or friends to get me started in a new location. My first genuinely huge leap of faith was when I moved to California. I had no one. If I was going to succeed there, it would be 100% on me. I remember being absolutely terrified the night before I moved into my tiny, cockroach-infested studio apartment in Hollywood. No job. No experience. I grew up in a town of 420 people. How was I supposed to function in the 2nd largest city in the country? I held the massive Thomas Guide, with hundreds of pages of city streets, and knew I was in over my head. But then I decided I knew how to get to the apartment I’d rented. I would learn the blocks around it and the blocks around those blocks until I knew the city. And that’s how it worked, except for the first day when I went in search of a store to buy a telephone and, once there, realized I had no idea how to get home. This was 1990, before smartphones. I eventually figured it out and went on to stick the landing in California, with a 25-year career in film and television, which included winning an Emmy with some really great people.

Backflip to Missouri

But you know, once you start leaping, I guess it’s hard to quit because then I did a backflip to Missouri. That was also pretty terrifying. It was a new culture and a very red culture. (If I’d had any idea what was coming in 2016, I wonder if I would have moved here.) Thankfully, doors opened, and I feel like I pretty much stuck that landing with a wobble here or there. It feels like home.

New Doors Open

The pandemic was hard, but it also opened a door. Sites like Fiverr and Upwork made the world of freelance remote work available to anyone with the Internet and a bit of skill with words. Finally, what I wanted to do most seemed within reach, just in a different form. Surprisingly, the editing and writing work I have been getting has been less on those sites and more through word of mouth here in town. Those jobs have allowed me to leave my library job behind. But I’ve still felt crunched for time with a full-time job and freelance work, leaving little time to line up new work. So it’s time to leap again.

Just a Hop

This time it’s a little leap. I’ve reduced my hours to part-time at my day job. I have some income, but not enough on its own. Eek! Freelancing is a never-ending hustle. There’s a reason I jumped at a chance at a network show back in LA when it was offered. Had I known it was a dead end, I might have reconsidered. Still, all I knew was that it was a break from constantly wondering if you’d work the next week or from working so much that you weren’t sure if you’d get a night of sleep that week, so I grabbed it. I used to say I gave up my dreams for security, and ended up with neither. This time I’m risking my security for my dreams. We’ll see how that turns out.

Embracing the Hustle

Thankfully this time I have a fantastic mentor, which I’ve never had before. More free time will allow me to get my online sites firing on all cylinders. It will allow me to have the time to do whimsical things that feed creativity – go to a movie, walk over to the art museum, or meet a friend for a meal. And that will allow me to start working on my own writing again.

So, here I go… see you on the other side.

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Falling Back on What I Love

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It’s the first day of 2023. It is a good day to post another blog. I’ve been silent for months. Last year, my goal was to write a blog post every month. I succeeded for a few months, and then I just stopped altogether. Looking back, the blogs stopped when I took a second job.

Also at that time, depression began to suck me down into the muck. Now some of that was related to a failing thyroid, but it was more than that. The last few years have taken a serious toll. The first few years I lived in Springfield, it felt like heaven. I loved the community and my close circle of friends. I loved the work we did. I loved the pace of my life and the ability to spend large swaths of time writing. I relied on savings to keep that pace slow, but I had faith that something would come my way before I ran out of money.

And then the pandemic hit. I was one of the ‘lucky’ ones who didn’t lose work. I became busier than ever, with more responsibilities and stress. However, while there was plenty of work, fun came to a screeching halt. There were no more girls nights. There were no more movies or meals out. No galas. No concerts. No shows.

There was no fun. There was only work and stress for years on end. And we all know that’s not a good combination. While other people were paid to stay home and used that time to publish their first novel, there was no room in my head for stories. Everything that gave me joy was gone. 

Then the financial blows came. The house continued to need significant repairs that I had hoped would wait a few years. And, of course, there was inflation. Suddenly the saving account that had allowed me some safety was gone, and debt began to pile up.

I saw no route out of this mess, at least not in the middle of a pandemic, living in a city with a lower median income than many other cities, in a state that already has a low median income. Even a second job wasn’t cutting it, leaving me weary and still sinking further into debt.

Eight years ago, I took a leap of faith, leaving Hollywood behind and moving to Missouri. Now, for the first time since moving here, I suddenly see the ground rushing at me. It is terrifying. 

I’ve developed a reputation at work as a fix-it person. If there’s a problem, call Lynette, and she’ll fix it. I’m seen as competent and resourceful, so the go-to person to fix anything. But lately I have begun to wonder, who’s my fix-it person? Who do I call that I can always count on to handle it when I have a problem? The answer that resounds with deafening silence is ‘no one.’ As a single person, no one sees me as their priority. There’s no one with a dog in the fight to work things out with. There’s no one saying, “I want to help her succeed.” So, if I’m going to get out of this mess, I’m the only person who will make it happen. 

After that epiphany, I began work on figuring out how to survive. I’m almost 60, and I’m running out of time. The window to the life I dreamed of is closing rapidly. I have very few liquid assets, there’s an impending recession, a mountain of repairs needed on the house, and I feel completely burned out. So how do I fix that?

I am choosing to fall back on what I love, which is words. I’m hoping to stop my rapid descent by catching an updraft and starting Updraft Proofreading and Copyediting. When I’m editing, it feels as if it’s what I’m meant to do. I love spending my days teasing apart someone’s writing and making it shine. If I can begin to earn a living from that work, I won’t even care about ever getting published. I will still be doing what I love and creating a lifestyle I love. Even better, it’s something I can do into old age.

So this is what I’ll be focusing on in the coming year. Anything I’ve ever wanted in this life, I’ve had to figure out how to get on my own, and I can do it again. I’m a farm kid who had a 25 year career in Hollywood without experience and connections. I will do it again. I have no other choice, just like I felt like I had no choice back then.

The future of this blog is in limbo. I will endeavor to write here, perhaps detailing my work as an editor. But I make no promises. When you work over 60 hours a week at three different jobs, finding time for blogging is hard. 

Until I get another website built, if you would like to inquire about my services and rates, leave me a comment with your contact information.

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Finding my Way With The Artist’s Way

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Over the past month I have had moments where I almost get back into a writing flow. Then I sit down, try to do the work, and quickly give up. It’s been frustrating!

After much thought, I have begun to understand that I am, for the first time in my life, dealing with… (duh duh duuuuuuh)… Writer’s Block. I always thought writer’s block was when you couldn’t think of anything to write. There are lots of things to write, I’m just no longer sure there’s any reason to bother. 

Even my imagination isn’t helping. One way I used to fall asleep easily at night was to start imagining a story. Before long sleep would take me. But now when I try to do that, I quickly revert back to thoughts about my own life. I used to spend about 80% of my time in my imagination as a kid, and now I can’t get it going at all. 

Imagination drove stories and hope for me. I could see the possibilities of life out there, and they made for good stories. But as I’ve been worn down by life, the possibilities seem less and less. 

For the past two years I have gone to work, while others were paid to stay home. And for the past two years I have stayed home, while others went out to play with little regard for the role that might have in transmitting a virus that was deadly to some. So all work, and no play, has led to a blocked me. Covid, my finances, my age… all are working against me, and my ability to see possibilities. 

In trying to figure out how to combat this situation, I pulled out my copy of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I had first used it in the 90s. It had survived my yearly culling of books, and still sat on my shelf. I decided it was time to return to the program. It mentioned that you could do it on your own, or with a group of people, and suddenly doing it on my own seemed empty. I got a group of friends and we invited a few others, and we now meet weekly on Zoom to discuss what we’ve learned and the progress we’ve made. It’s so fun to share this journey.

We’re on week one, and already I feel a lightening of spirit and a sense of play I’ve been missing. I bought a paint by number kit, which I know isn’t really artistic, but it’s something I’ve never done as an adult. Also purchased, some watercolor and acrylic paints to try to make some original art when the paint by number is done. My final purchase… decent snow boots so I can take walks even when it’s cold and snowy. Imagining doesn’t feel quite so futile. It feels like there are things I want to accomplish. It feels like maybe I could accomplish them. I’m finding my way with The Artist’s Way.

Have you ever had writer’s block, or whatever art you practice? What did you do to get out of it? If you’re blocked now, give The Artist’s Way a try.

authors, blogging, change, self help, Uncategorized, writing

Trimming the Sails

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Happy New Year! The new year is always a time for reflection, and sitting at home, waiting for the results of a covid test to see if I had a cold or omicron, gave me even more time to reflect and think about where I’m going. So let me post about what I’ve reflected on. Perhaps you can find some parallels to your struggles.

Last year everyone was so happy to put 2020 behind them. I kept wondering why they thought 2021 would be different. It wasn’t. More masks. More misinformation creating more division. More financial struggles. 

My personal year was a mixed bag. I started out with the high of planning to self-publish my first novel. I hired an editor and went back to work on the manuscript. Just as I finished that, I was suddenly forced to look for housing in the worst market in decades. I got lucky and found a place not yet listed, but because of the rushed need for a place to live, I didn’t look into things as well as I should have, and am stuck with a house which I love, but has some real problems that will cost me a great deal of money down the road. Money I don’t really have. It was an emotional blow.

The pandemic began to take its toll. I wanted to reconnect socially – have some fun and rediscover the joy of living. But every time I considered a solution, because of my work with vulnerable people, covid seemed to stop me. The desire to write seemed to fade away for the first time in my life and I decided to let it go.

A slide into depression followed. I felt disconnected, distrustful, defeated, exhausted, and hopeless. Little slights were magnified. I lost all confidence in myself. It isn’t the first time I’ve struggled with depression (I am Scandinavian after all), and thankfully I’ve developed tools to recognize and deal with it. It took time and there were more lessons learned from this battle. Even after the depression faded, I found it almost impossible to write, though ideas kept forming… niggling… speaking quietly that my calling hadn’t left me.

On the first day of 2022, the test came back negative. Despite my sniffles, I am once again free to move about without worrying about the consequences for others. I am now poised for action and while I can’t say I make resolutions, my time of reflection made me realize I do want to trim the sails on my boat and capture the wind to move in a different direction. 

One priority is my health. I’m starting out with a reset for my liver and taste buds with a cleanse. (I hate the click bait title, but the cleanse is great.) I want to eventually get the pandemic stress weight off and go back to where I feel good in my body. I don’t want to overwhelm myself with the end goal. I want to think about today and what needs to be done today.

Another priority is my writing. Yesterday I pulled up my first book and looked at the editor’s notes. There was so much positive. I started to edit again and felt the embers flicker into a small flame. The love is still there. There are several ideas I’d like to flesh out a little more and perhaps get started on them as well. I’ve realized that self-publishing is the way to go. I want two things. I want to write. And I want my stories to be read. Self-publishing accomplishes that, without the stupidity of the publishing industry.

And my last priority for 2022 is social. I have to find a way to reconnect. One barrier to that is the very, very thick walls I’ve constructed after years and years of hurt. This last depression revealed how easy it is to reopen old wounds and those walls do nothing to prevent that. I need to figure out how to take the walls down and find a way to trust, and I believe forgiveness is the key to that so that I can form closer bonds. I’m hoping that omicron will bring the end of the pandemic and make it an endemic disease that isn’t nearly so serious for so many. I want to get out there and have fun with people. Find joy, fun, spontaneity. 

With the sails trimmed, I hope my boat sails through whatever 2022 throws at me.

That’s my year in review and what I’m looking forward to. What have you learned from 2021? What do you hope to do in 2022? Leave me a comment and share your experience. 

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Moving On

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Writing is a journey, and there is so much to learn along the way. One of the things you must learn is when it’s time to move on. I knew the odds of publishing my very first novel were slim. It didn’t stop me from loving the book and trying my best. It has been through many revisions, and no one has shown much interest. I still believe in it, but know it needs help that I don’t have. So I had to take a hard look and decide it was time to move on. Doing that in the midst of the stress of a pandemic and social unrest made me feel a bit like this.

While querying, editing, and querying again, I also wrote two other books. One is another children’s book that I have yet to even begin editing. The other is my memoir, detailing the 25 years I spent in the entertainment industry. I was able to use the stay-at-home order to find more time to finish it and finally pare it down to find its form.

I thoroughly enjoyed going through my work orders, reading my journals, and falling deep into the memories of the time spent with Kevin Costner in South Dakota, or with Bob Hoskins on a soundstage at Television City, I relived the infamy of turning off Bill Clinton’s mic in the middle of a speech, and the sublime feeling of standing on the field of an NFC championship game with my eyes closed, imagining what it would feel like to have the roar of the crowd be for me.

Professional Eavesdropper takes the reader behind the scenes in Hollywood and leads them on a journey from naïvely wanting to be a part of celebrity culture to the realities of the toxic environments that culture encourages. With help from beta readers and wonderfully honest critique partners, the memoir began to take its shape. It likely still needs a lot more work, but I think it’s a fairly entertaining read.

Tomorrow, after finishing the polish on my query letter and synopsis, I will send out a couple of queries, testing the waters. I am cautiously optimistic that I have something people beyond my friends and family will find interesting, and something that can begin a dialogue on what celebrity culture does to society.

Some day I hope to return to Fear Unleashed and find the missing pieces to it. Until then, I am moving on with renewed optimism and excitement where this memoir might lead. Wish me luck.

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Boredom Update

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By this time each year, most people have let their new year’s resolutions slide into oblivion. So, it made sense to wait six weeks before reporting on how my boredom experiment is going.

It’s been an abject failure.

Let me explain.

My life has improved dramatically in just a few weeks. Last year I read 16 books over the year. More than one a month. I considered it acceptable, though for a writer, less than stellar. This year, on Goodreads Reading Challenge, I committed to reading at least 50 books. With largely TV free evenings and weekends, I read 9 books in January. (So far, Beneath a Scarlet Sky – a true story of a 17 year old Italian boy during WWII, is my favorite.)

With more free time away from screens, I began meditating regularly again. I decided on the schedule of 20 minutes, twice daily. Yes, it meant getting up earlier, which I am loathe to do. There have been many mornings when I thought about going to just 1 evening session a day, but I wanted to stick with it until it was a habit — give it a fair shot. I’ve reached that point. I look forward to the time on the cushion, and am reaping the benefits of a regular practice, though some mornings, I would still rather sleep another 20 minutes.

It’s great I’m reading so much more, after all, I recently heard that every hour of reading is like an hour of studying writing. But, I also have a shelf full of writing books, many of which I’ve never read. It made sense to add more academic endeavors to my reading regimen.

After looking over the titles, I picked The Fire in Fiction by Donald Maass, of the Donald Maass Literary Agency. In just the first chapter I saw things I could do to improve both books I’ve been working on. It felt like my opening chapter of Fear Unleashed didn’t grab the reader like I wanted it to. My intention was to create a slow build of getting to know the main character, but I don’t think that helped sell the story. It has inspired me to rethink much of my first novel, and since I have a lot of passion for those changes, I think I’m jumping tracks and letting my current work in progress go for a moment while I rewrite Fear Unleashed.

The truth of my boredom update is this… I have failed miserably at being bored in 2019. I now see that I already was bored and screen time was just a lazy way to fill the boredom. So I guess I am sort of breaking my resolution. I no longer resolve that 2019 is the year of boredom. Instead I resolve it is the year I switch boredom off and reengage with the things that give life meaning. It’s an easy resolution to keep.

How are your New Year’s Resolutions going? Have you also tried less screen time? How is that working for you?

Read any good books lately? Please tell me about them, as I’m constantly looking for my next book.

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I’m bored.

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I remember whining “I’m bored” from time to time when I was a kid. Most of us over the age of 30 did. Apparently kids today are saying it less and less often, because they’re never bored. They pick up their phone, their tablet, their game controller, or the remote control.

Back in the olden days, you know, the 70s, do you remember what happened shortly after uttering those words? Our parents would either suggest something to do, which sounded good, and we did it. Or, they would threaten us with chores if we continued to complain about boredom. And with that, we would evaporate from their presence before chores could be unleashed. Out on a farm, 12 miles from a town of 400 people, there didn’t seem to be a lot of choices, but the sheer weight of boredom would force out some creativity. I would go work on my fort in the trees, maybe build something, or pretend I was on some adventure in the barn or pastures. Much of my love of writing comes from being bored and losing myself in a book, or being bored and playing out some story I’d invented in my head. Obviously, being bored isn’t fun, but it makes me sad that today’s kids aren’t enjoying the adventures that come out of boredom.

The problem is, I now feel sad for myself, as well, and doubly so, because I’m trying to launch a creative career. You see, I, too, have ceased being bored. There’s always something to watch on Netflix, or Amazon, or Hulu, or Sling. And if that’s not enough to entertain me, I’ll play a game on my phone while watching. Then there’s Flipboard, which lets me read all the news from so many sources and viewpoints, that it’s a black hole that can suck me in, leading me from one story to the next. I might sit down to write, but then YouTube seems infinitely more interesting than pounding out the next chapter. I mean, you can tour abandoned sites, learn about cults from those who’ve left, hear inspirational Ted Talks, watch a video on history, telling yourself it’s research for future ideas, watch music videos… again, a black hole that can suck one in for hours.

And then I complain that I just don’t have time to read. I just don’t have time to write. LIAR! I do have the time for both those things, and if I were bored, I would be clamoring to do them. My mind would be filling the boredom with ideas, just like it did when I was a kid.

So, I am doing something I don’t know that I’ve ever done before. I am making a New Year’s Resolution.

I do hereby resolve to be bored in 2019.

Often and frequently.

I will be getting rid of several of my streaming services. Not all of them. I am not a troglodyte, after all. I will be removing the games from my phone. The iPhone OS now lets you monitor your screen time, and I will keep an eye on that, perhaps creating time limits if I feel that’s necessary. Anybody have any other suggestions?

How often are you bored? What distracts you from boredom? Want to join me in my New Year’s Resolution and get your boredom on in 2019?

Let’s get bored!

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Weaning Myself off Amazon

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Before I get to the main topic, I want to speak to any writers who read my blog. There is a terrific podcast out there called Write or Die. Authors are interviewed about the road to publication and it is eye opening. I knew it was a long process, but until I listened to these authors, I had no idea how long. A part of me thinks it would have been good to know it can take 8 or 9 years to get a book from written to published before I took my leap. My 3 year financial cushion wasn’t nearly enough. On the other hand, it’s a good thing I didn’t know, or I never would have taken the leap. Give it a listen. It’s great information about getting published.

Now to the title – I’ve made the decision to end my Prime Membership and wean myself off Amazon. It’s something more Americans might want to consider. Let me lay out the reasons.

  1. Brick and mortar stores have long warned that Amazon hurts local businesses. Local businesses employ local people, giving them money to spend, and building thriving local economies. I’ll admit there have been many times I have ordered products through Amazon that I know I could get locally, but it seemed so much easier to have it show up on my doorstep, rather than drive to get it. There was a good chance the price was better too.
  2. Amazon’s policies are impossible for smaller businesses to compete with, and are creating entitled customers who expect the same service. No shipping expense, and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay to ship it back. Package stolen – Amazon refunds it fully or sends another, without many questions asked. When a business isn’t doing the volume Amazon does, they lose all profit with those policies. But if they don’t provide them, they lose all customers.
  3. Amazon is the poster child for corporate greed – Recently, on the same day they announced huge profits, blasting through all expectations, they also raised the fee for Prime Membership citing rising costs. Riiiiiiiight. Jeff Bezos has so much money he’s using it to go to space, but he can’t pay his workers a living wage, and provides horrible working conditions. When Seattle tried to tax Amazon to help the homeless population, which has grown due to the high cost of living in the area, partially due to tech companies, Amazon fought back and killed the tax.
  4. And for me, there’s a final kicker. They broadcast extremist views that are contributing to the deaths of Americans – NRA-TV.

I’ve got until December before my Prime membership renews, but I’ve already begun the process. I can’t get my cat food anywhere in town, but I can get it through PetCo. I’m searching out item after item and am finding it locally, ordering it directly from the manufacturer, or at the very least, another distributor. That doesn’t mean I won’t use Amazon from time to time. In fact, if I’m trying a new product, that’s exactly who I’ll go to, precisely for the free shipping and easy returns. But once I know I like something, I’ll buy it elsewhere.

Greed is not good, and right now neither is Amazon.

activism, change, Uncategorized, writing , , , , , , , , , , ,

Everything is Possible

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It’s been a long while since I posted, mainly because little was happening with the book. It was with the proof reader and all I could do was wait. Sure, there was the next book to begin work on, but it felt as if time stood still while I waited for the first one to be polished.

Finally, it was back in my hands. I spent an entire day going over each change suggested and either accepting or rejecting them. More time consulting with the editor. A few more changes and I fired it back to the editor, waiting for a final chat this weekend before it was given to the literary agency that has some interest.

It’s kind of a surreal moment. I’m like a plucked harp string – thrumming with excitement. Everything is possible… perhaps not probable, but possible. For instance, it is not probable that I will top J.K. Rowling in sales, but it is possible I will publish this book and finally be able to support myself doing what I love. It’s also possible it will be very successful, be turned into a movie, and I’ll get sucked back into the very industry I fled. Or it’s possible it will get published, fail, and I’ll still have to find another way to earn a living. Who knows. It’s pretty much all possible.

I feel change on the horizon, and as I drove to work the other day, I reminded myself to be present because it’s possible my life could be changing. And I have been far more mindful. Two years after I replanted myself in Missouri, it still feels like paradise. I sit at my desk to write this blog and look out across the green field in front of me, binoculars nearby to watch the little red foxes that live in the park and sometimes come out to play… as well as the human wildlife that occasionally jogs by on their way to the greenways trail. I have just come in from sitting on my sun porch, sipping on my first batch of homemade kombucha, and eating a couple of mulberries from my neighbor’s bush that drapes into my yard. We had a delightful thunder storm last night, and today puffy white clouds with dark undersides push their way across the sky, telling me more storms are coming. Tonight I will go to a drumming circle with my friends at the Friday Night ArtWalk.

It all feels perfect. In the past two years there has not been one microsecond of regret for the move.

Perhaps that’s what made it easier for me to absorb the latest bad news, when I found out the book is being put on hold just a bit longer. My editor is unexpectedly unavailable until next week, and once again I’m cooling my jets and putting my dreams on pause. One silver lining, I am pleased with my ability to absorb the disappointment and not get dejected. In LA, the frustrations had piled up to the point where even the slightest disappointment led to a spiral of despair – proving to me once again that I was never destined for a career as a writer – that the universe was conspiring against me. This time I took a deep breath and went on with life. No big deal. So, if that was the test from this hiccup, I think I passed.

I’m grateful to have made some personal progress, if not book progress. I’ll focus on that for now. It’s good to take the time to notice when you handle your struggles a little bit better, and then celebrate it. So what did you handle better today than you did last year? Give yourself some credit for improvement. Celebrate. Look out the window. Listen to the birds. Take it all in, before it changes, because it will. It’s inevitable.

Hopefully the next time I post, it will be with the news that I have an agent, or the news that I am continuing the hunt for one.

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