Update on Rage Rising Emails

Fear Breeds Procrastination

I started posting under Rage Rising – My Walk Through the Dark Tunnel of Anger several months ago. Annnd quit.

I don’t want to do this. Literally. I’ve put it off month after month. People have emailed me back, asking to receive the updates.

I know why. I get it.

No one wants to go back through the old journal entries. Takes a lot of time.

Honesty Breeds Freedom

Uh. No. The real reason is I don’t want to go back to the ickiness of where all the anger began.

Please forgive me.

I’ve never written a book by email before either, so let me know what works and what doesn’t. I also want these emails to spark communication between us. Please, if something stirs your heart, or you have questions or comments, I want to hear from you. I want this to be a back-and-forth conversation, just between us–no one else will have access.

So if you’re reading this and haven’t emailed me that you want to receive Rage Rising, please sign up. I’m still figuring out all the steps for: writing the book, setting up the emails with MailChimp and making the conversations between us secure.

Best Blessings!

Where Do I Go From Here?

Yeah, it’s February already, but I am still posting this because I want to be more public with my thoughts and goals for 2018.

Goals versus Resolutions

People make resolutions.

And break them within a month.

I don’t put myself through that grief because I know I will go off the diet after a week. Or fall off the wagon of working out (it’s very difficult to take the steps down to my basement to get on that rowing machine!). Word count will stay up for … dang.

But, I do journal my reflections at the end of a year or right away on day one of a new year–reflecting, but looking forward.

Back to 2017

Looking back ~ This time last year, 2017, I watched 52 of my newest publication, Rescued, slide down the shoot to the compacter.

Yeah.

I knew in my gut that it was a good business decision. Disheartening. Almost depressing. But I knew I was doing the right thing. My main beta reader had found a major mistake, therefore I had to do a revision.

You know how it is when you think a project is finished, but you have to go back into it. And that’s what I did.

But something happened when I did that. I pressed into it and pushed myself to dig deeper into the story, the characters and myself. As I did that, the miraculous occurred. I hit what I am calling a writer’s high–like a runner’s high when they push through. Writer’s endorphins! Worth it all.

In 2017, little Isaac Joshua got to live on this earth for six and a half months inside Mommy. Heart wrenching.

In May 2017, we moved into our new home and it is amazing! Our design team–Dearly Beloved and I, and our son–did a good job. Builders did a great job. Some things worked and some didn’t.  The refinished antique doors totally work, especially the ones going into my office. I love my office; it’s a dream come true. Building is all a learning process. But we both say we’d like to try it again because we learned so much. Eeeek!

Our son lives with us here while he gets his business up and going. Some tough times and many fantastic ones.

God is growing in me, teaching me, increasing in me. I am seeking Him more and more. Taking an online course–2018 is my third year with The Nest. It’s been challenging. Powerful.

So, where do we go from here into 2018?

I have a list. Wanna see it? It’s mostly having to do with writing. But it’s a list. I can do lists. Complete the task. Cross it off.

This is part of it. I broke each task into smaller parts. Then, work the plan.

I have a huge calendar–Amy Knapp’s BIG GRID Family Organizer. The oversized boxes for each day are huge. I have room to post my daily word count. Dinner that night. Plus any birthdays and events in between.

And I am posting something in my office and here for accountability: if I don’t make any kind of profit from my writing by the end of 2018, I am getting a job. I won’t quit writing, but I’ll get a job. There. I said it.

That’s not a resolution. That’s a self-challenge. My list includes finishing and publishing four books and everything in between to make that happen–covers, edits, bookmarks. Rough drafts of several novellas. Website stuff. Blog more consistently–like every week!

Hold me accountable.

If anybody is reading this post, please comment with what you would love to have done by the end of 2018. And I’ll keep you accountable.

Deal?

Cheers!

 

Rage Rising: Anger is Scary

Grr! Anger management is not fun. I manage my anger and it manages to manage me.

Frosting helps in anger management.

I’ve already messed up. From this post where I wrote that I’d blog every week! That was months ago!

Anger. These days, it covers everything from road rage to temper tantrums. Newspapers are full of examples. Personally,  I am angry at myself for messing up and not doing what I said I’d do.

I’m procrastinating writing this blog because I don’t want to go back there. And procrastinating only makes me fearful that I won’t get it done and then angry that I don’t get it done.

Plus, I don’t want to go back to the origin of the anger mess. I might open up something I can’t get out of. What if I get stuck in that icky place again? I can already feel the surge of fear, the rage rising.

We see movies like The Hulk (I”d be mad too, if I’d turned myself green! Worse than a bad hair day!), or Anger Management, (so many times situations were misunderstood because of the plot, but they turned into painful moments).

Yesterday afternoon. I skimmed my home library for the right books–information on anger, or with anger related references like anger management, aggression, violence.

For those of you that don’t know, I am writing a nonfiction book about my walk through the dark tunnel of anger and recovery. I’m not sure what I had in mind when I first thought of doing this. I felt it would be a tie-in with my fiction, The Great Escapee Series. Seemed like a good idea–a correlation between the main character, Clarence and his anger, and me and my anger.

But then I started digging through my old journals of that time period. And yesterday, I read all afternoon, yes, but it was about aggression, fear, violence and hatred.

Also, I want this book to be meaningful and hopeful. But, as usual, I had no idea how deep I’d have to go and where God wanted to take me. If you journal, you’ll know that where God and those words scattered on the page often take you can be someplace awful. We need to get rid of our junk. But not today. Or tomorrow.

The main book I read yesterday was The Gift of Fear and Other Survival Signals That Protect Us From Violence by Gavin De Becker. I just looked up the parts on anger from the index. I’m going to read the whole book. But it’s not what I thought it would be. It’s as scary as a horror story.

Still, I don’t know how to do this … this blog thing about anger. It needs to be honest. I want it to be meaningful–to change someone’s life. I want it to change my life.

But I sense myself hovering over the introduction–writing several posts as the intro–procrastinating getting into the gritty stuff. I’ll just write the first half of the book about other people and maybe, maybe I’ll get to my stuff.

No.

Next week, I open the first phase–when my daughter got sick.

 

 

Rage Rising: How Do I Tell This?

Post-it Heaven

You all have stories you could tell.

Your spouse gets laid off. A child becomes very sick. Someone has to have surgery. A hurricane hits hard.

If you sat down to start the process of journaling or writing your story, where would you start?

I know. Overwhelming.

Most life stories span years. Mine do.

I asked God, “How do I tell this?”

His words, “Start at the beginning. Tell your story.”

Ugh. From the beginning to now, covers ten or more journals, full of daily rantings and puke-it-out-entries. Pages and pages. And pages.

I gathered them all–tricky since we just moved and stashed anything we didn’t immediately need in a storage building. Boxes and boxes of … yeah. Of stuff we don’t need. (That’s another chapter! Or another book!)

I began to go back and figure out what years I needed and gathered them in, along with a stack of post-its. If you have ever journaled and gone back to read those scribblings, you know that sometimes your “I’m gonna get this done today” voice is slowed or stopped altogether. You land on an entry that is so profound … or painful that you read it over and over, the memory washing over you.

One such entry is from January 2001 about a dream I had. Without telling you the whole thing, at the end of the dream I was caught up in grief so deep that I was sobbing, apparently for my daughter. When I woke, I could still hear the sobs. I asked the Lord what it meant. He said, “She won’t die, but she has to go through it and learn to move on.” I had written the Bible verse, “I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me.” Phil. 4:13.

Easy to say then. Before.

In September 2002, a year and a half later, my daughter, Jenn, got very sick.

Prophetic? Maybe.

I hadn’t read that entry from back then. Sometimes I go back and read a journal but I hadn’t gone back to this one.

Until now.

Rage Rising

Duck Rag

I can feel it brewing.

It feels like a fist in my gut–twisting and turning–until it needs to explode. And somehow that fist connects to my eyes, because I want to weep. A monster resides in my chest and is pounding its way through to my thinking, my decisions and my mouth. And what comes out of my mouth are words ready to stab anyone within range.

Just being honest.

I’m starting a blog series on anger–my experience with it–that is. Rage Rising may seem like a strong title for a blog post, but rage or anger is a powerful emotion. And not that I want to puke this stuff out here. I want everybody to think I’m this nice lady who writes and doodles. Plays with grandkids. Bakes brownies for people out of the goodness … of my … heart. Not someone who could … no I wouldn’t do that. I can’t even type that. That’s awful.

I will post here every Friday, sometimes Thursday evening, depending on the schedule.

What I am hoping is that I will continue to heal through writing this series. Plus. I hope that you will read and interact with me and together we might open those memories and wounds, and expose them to the Light. And heal.

I’ll go first.

Anger is what fed me back then. I’m sure it had been lurking underneath before, but when my husband had an accident where the other guy was committing suicide and okay with possibly taking Dearly Beloved with him, my mom was dying of lung cancer, a son was addicted to cocaine and my daughter was losing ground to West Nile–all within around two years, I started down that dark tunnel of rage boiling inside.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I promise to keep these posts short and will be consistent with posting once a week. I will always post to Goodreads, my own website, and refer to them in my email newsletters, (you can sign up to receive them on my website, also).

Eventually, I will put these into a book to be published at some point, so people searching for books on anger recovery or anger management can hopefully find the help that they need.

That’s it! See you in the next post.

I Made Things Up About Osceola, Nebraska!

I’m just sitting here on my new back porch, eating lunch. The birds are twittering back and forth. The cat is lurking and probably stalking those birds. Temperature is a balmy 81 degrees. It’s August in Nebraska. I’m not making this up!

So why plot a book in small town Osceola, Nebraska? Seems like nothing happens here, right?

If you read the Orange book about Osceola, there was, at one time, a shoemaker, livestock sales barn, furniture store, billiard parlor (there still is one–in my basement!), lightning rod salesman and on and on!
Yup. Things have changed. There’s now a machine and die company, Quality Machine and Tools, Inc. run by Tim and Kelly.

We have two eateries: Terry’s Drive-Inn run by … Terry, White Eagle and another one in the works.

There are several Ag-related businesses and the biggest bins this side of anywhere. Antiques store, plumber. I can’t name them all! Plus the county seat, hospital and nursing home.

So again, why use Osceola for my book series? No Hobbits here. Life is pretty ordinary.

 

Unless … you make things up. :o)

Did you know there are sink holes and caves and secret pools here?

Only in my books.

Because I make things up!

And that’s what writers do.