TRRC Guest Blogger Today: WORTH

Today, I'm guest blogging at TRRC, and I thought you might be interested in reading the post. It has to do with worth, and the value we place on what we do with our lives.

You can read the post HERE.

Blessings,

Vicki

CALM & COOL DOESN'T PRODUCE. PASSION DOES.

WARNING: This is a no-edit zone...

Calm and Cool Doesn’t Produce. Passion Does.
Recently, I listened carefully to opinions on disposition and their value regarding a discussion between two people that held opposing views. One was passionate, one was calm and cool.

Afterward, there was a lot of post-discussion debate about which demeanor held more value. The consensus left me scratching my head. They opted for cool and collected, the least emotional of the two people being debated.

I thought just the opposite. The one who spoke with passion infused what he said with purpose and vision. He clearly felt deep convictions about what he was saying. This was acknowledged in the group discussion, and yet they gravitated to calm.

I love calm as much as the next person. I seek it and go to great lengths to preserve it. But calm doesn’t bring out the best of us or encourage us to dig deeper, to play like Einstein or Ben Franklin and do that experiment for the thousandth time or the two-thousandth time--whatever it takes.

Calm doesn’t inspire us... READ MORE

TAGS: calm, passion, vision, purpose, creativity, vicki hinze, writers library

WHY DO WRITERS WRITE?

WARNING: This is a no-edit zone...

As writers, we’re asked many questions. Some from and of ourselves, many more from others. One question seems perpetual for the frequency with which it’s asked: “In light of how hard it is to get or stay published, why do writers write?”

While I can’t answer for everyone, I can share my own thoughts and what I’ve observed from a large pool of writers over a long period of time.

Some speculate that it’s the freedom writing affords. You set your own schedule, work when and as you please, and answer only to yourself.

Well, bluntly put and in practical terms, all that’s a myth. Before writing full-time I was a director of operations for a corporate chain and I had three kids at home (participating in all the typical sports and other activities). Back then I had at least double the free time that I do now.

Yes, writers set their own schedules. But those schedules include many activities that are writing related but not actually writing, and they all must be done, too, which knocks out working when and as you please. Sure, you can choose to write in the mornings and do ancillary related jobs in the afternoon, but typically you end up working most if not all your waking hours less and except those you insist on just taking off to do other things. When you do that, you do it knowing you’re leaving work undone.

As for answering to no one but yourself, well, that’s pretty much a myth, too, though you do ultimately choose how to spend your day. But you answer to your responsibilities and obligations like most other people in their chosen careers, and you’re not an island. You work with an editor (or several editors), an agent (or several agents), with marketing and sales and publicity, booksellers, other writers, organizations . . . well, you get the point. Others are definitely involved, and if you fail to perform, you’ve messed up for yourself and for them. So it’s not as simple as answering to no one other than yourself. Ultimately, you answer to your readers. This is typically a pleasant perk, but pleasant perks too require time and commitment.

So I can’t say I know any writers who write for freedom it affords them. Far more often writers are reduced to sandwiching in time to actually write.

Some speculate that an inborn talent drives the writer to continue writing when not writing would be easier.

I respectfully disagree. I know many talented writers who never wrote to sell a book, have never submitted a book to a publisher, or who have stopped writing because selling books for a living was too difficult or unstable and/or problematic.

And let’s be frank. Writing is never and will never be easy. It’s only through a writer’s effort (some say blood and sweat) that it appears easy.

But talent is only one of many criteria when it comes to selling what you write. It’s nothing to sneeze at, so don’t get me wrong, but talent alone will not give the writer the discipline or ability to write a book or the fortitude to sell one, much less to write and sell the body of work one produces over the span of a career as a writer.

True, one can learn almost everything to do with writing as a career. One can learn craft, how the industry works. One can learn to network and market, to integrate into the business. One can learn everything except one thing: storytelling. That is a gift--a talent--one has or one does not. Yet merely having the talent doesn’t ensure one’s ability to use it to successfully parlay it into a writing career. So talent doesn’t keep a writer writing...

Some speculate that perseverance keeps a writer writing.

Not exactly. Persistence and perseverance keeps a writer who wants to write writing in the face of rejections and other challenges encouraging the writer to stop writing, but perseverance alone isn’t enough to get a writer to write when that writer isn’t already determined to do so.

It’s like with thirst. If you’re thirsty you drink. If you’re really thirsty, you’ll crawl across a desert looking for that oasis and you’ll keep crawling until you find water because you’re thirsty. You’ll persevere. But perseverance didn’t create the thirst. It’s a reaction to the struggle to find water.

For the writer who struggles to get the writing published, perseverance is a tool that aids in the struggle-phase, but it comes after the writing. Now for the writer who elects to write but finds enthusiasm waning to stick with the writing until the work is done . . . perseverance definitely comes into play, as does discipline. But either alone or combined, they are not the catalysts for writing. They’re the reaction to the catalyst--like with thirst. So, no, perseverance can’t make a writer write.

Some speculate education keeps a writer writing.

While I’m a huge proponent of education and see benefits in it in all we do or attempt to do, education alone doesn’t make a writer write. It can deepen the creative well from which a writer can draw. It can enable a writer to convey a story clearly, efficiently. It can help stage an environment wherein a writer can emote, tell a story in a way that makes it appeal to readers (the first of whom are an agent or an editor) but education alone isn’t going to put or keep a writer’s backside in a chair and keep it there through the creative process of creating a book.

Some speculate it’s the relationships a writer forms with other writers, agents and/or editors, bonds with readers that makes a writer keep writing.

Those relationships are important. Critical--to the writer and his/her family, who are spared writing talk only because those other relationships exist. No one “gets” writers like other writers. No one understands the nuances of the process like those in the business. And no one understands the elations and the challenges inbred like those in it. But those are perks that could be applied to any career-field. Scientists about science. CPAs about numbers and tax law. Mechanics about auto repairs. Definitely desirable, definitely beneficial, but relationships do not create and maintain the desire to write. They may support it after it already exists, but these things do not forge the desire.

Some speculate the story itself keeps the discouraged, despairing writer writing.

This is closer to the truth, but not all of it. Enthusiasm for a story, excitement about it, runs in phases. The initial burst of enthusiasm. The wall where enthusiasm fizzles and writing turns to work. The temptation to cease and desist wars with the determination to finish.

There could be, and typically are, other phases, too. The really good ones run their course in about the first three chapters of the book. Then the good stuff goes dormant until the writer is almost at the end. This is why you read so much on sagging middles. And why middles are predisposed to sagging. The enthusiasm isn’t as strong to shore them up. That means more work for the writer, trying to fire it up to shore up the middle.

If the writer isn’t wholly engaged with the story, you can see how much more difficult the process would be. It’s plenty difficult when wholly engaged. It’s under those circumstances that burst of excitement fires and sustains you for those three chapters. After that, you’ve got to create and generate excitement. Find something in the work that fires you up to keep going.

So, no, the story alone isn’t enough to keep the writer writing. It’s significant and its impact is undeniably a factor, but story alone won’t keep a writer writing--not for a book, not for the span of a career.

Some speculate that the writer feels “too invested” in writing to start over doing something else and that’s why s/he sticks with it.

With changing markets, I expect many writers go through periods of time feeling this way, but I can’t say I know any who have elected to write or to continue to write because they felt they had too much invested to do anything else.

By nature, writers are interested in many things. Diversity is one of their assets, and that makes them marketable in the work force. Rather than too invested invested to do anything else, I’d say they’re innately capable of doing many other things--many of which make earning a living far easier in other positions than in that of a career writer.

Starting over might not be fun or an appealing thing, but considering most writers reinvent themselves an average of three times in their writing career, I’d say that makes this speculation a myth, too. The average writer already starts anew--some far more than three times--so I don’t see how this could keep a writer writing.

Some speculate it’s the money, fame and prestige that keeps a writer writing.

Sorry, but this doesn’t begin to wash. Most writers don’t make a decent living much less a fortune. Many go their entire careers writing consistently but are never recognized for it. That pretty well does away with delusions of grandeur on the fame and prestige fronts.

So why then do writers do what they do? Even when they’re hearing no far more often than yes, why do they keep writing?

Here’s where we’re back from observation to what I know from personal experience.

I know writers write because they have something to say that they want others to hear.

I know writers write because they have a reason to write--they feel a strong purpose to their work. That purpose, whatever it might be, ignites the desire to write in them and fans the flame so that it burns consistently and without fail.

I know writers write because the idea of not writing is more than they can bear. A life without writing to convey the stories in their heads is the shell of a life but not one fully lived. Not for a writer.

Purpose ignites and fires the desire. Desire fuels all the rest. Sustains the writer, infuses the writer with the will and discipline and perseverance and determination to do and learn all that’s required. Purpose and that infused need to relate keeps the writer writing. Even when it’s tough to sell. Even when it’s tough to keep backside to chair day in and out, month after month, year after year.

A writer is inspired. Alone that can’t get or keep a writer writing. But infuse that inspiration with purpose, and that will start a chain reaction in the writer.

Inspiration. Infused with purpose. Sparks desire. A need to relate.

But wait. Not just anything inspires a writer and motivates him/her to actually write. Different things impact people differently, right? So what differentiates the writing kind of inspiration from your average run-of-the-mill inspiration? What in inspiration gets a writer writing or keeps one writing?

Purpose. It defines what sparks our specific imagination. Purpose infuses imagination and defines something as the type of inspiration that makes a writer write. Purpose infused imagination sparks desire, that need to relate, and fans its flames, and keeps the writer writing well beyond the time when logic and reason and sense say to quit. Even when everything says stop now... one thing strongly disagrees and it then keeps writers writing. The heart.

The heart pays more attention to purpose than does the mind, reason or logic. The heart is attuned to the desires in it. It’s the well from which purpose-driven imagination springs. And it refuses to be silenced. To have inner peace with him/herself, the writer keeps writing.

And there’s my version of the straight skinny on this matter.

So the next time someone asks what keeps a writer writing when everything--and often, everyone--says stop, you might respond with the short version:

Purpose.

It really is just that simple--and complex.

Blessings,

Vicki

©2008, Vicki Hinze

Tags: author, writer, novelist, creative writing, purpose, writing, rationale, desire, imagination, value, determination, drive, will, persistence, perseverance, fortitude, ambition

What's in Your Body of Work?

WARNING:  This is a no-edit zone...

I love and collect quotes. I came across one a couple days ago that totally speaks to the writer in me:

"In every work of genius, we recognize our own rejected thoughts;
they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty."            
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

I read Mr. Emerson's words and thought, "Perfect. Exactly the right goal and aspiration and tone for a writer who writes first with purpose."

And that made me wonder. How many writers actually identify their goal for their writing? Not what or how much or when they write, but what they hope the work will achieve? What message it will convey to readers? How many writers have defined that message? How many have a clear sense of self and the role it plays in their work?

Is this something that most writers think about? Or do they drift story to story, writing the books they choose for a purpose defined only by that work and not by their entire body of work? I've pondered on this quite a bit lately--sitting with one's eyes closed can assist one in seeing the less-than-obvious quite clearly--and I know writers who do both. Or ones who flip from one position--by the book--to the other--by the body of work. And that got me to thinking about Author Theme.

If we examine an author's body of work, we do see a recurring theme in all of the books. It doesn't matter what genre they're written in, what classification tags have been assigned to them; plot and tone and characters can vary widely, but the underlying author's theme remains intact.

It is the reflection of the author herself. Her perspective, ideas, attitudes and dreams. Readers see and believe and are led to accept what the author wants us to see and believe and accept. We react to the assets the writer employs. That theme might be healing or redemption or cowardice. It might be independence or protection or betrayal. Loyalty, abuse, or dealing with issues such as illness. It might be inspiring, encouraging, offering hope.  Regardless, every author has a theme.

Writers often say, I want to make the bestseller list. I want to be published in hard cover. I want to be sent on tour. I want larger print runs, more money, broader audiences. All of that is fine--and business aspects should be addressed by those writers who write to sell. But can writers write-to-sell and have a defined goal for their body of work? Do they? That's the question of interest to me.

When I first started writing, I set a standard for myself on the books I write. I must love them. That's shorthand, of course, and I know what it takes for me to love a book enough to be willing to invest a share of my life into writing it. For me, that love includes purpose. Every book I write, every story I plot, has a purpose that resonates with me and that I hope will resonate with readers. So that they will see something just a little differently after reading the book than they did before reading it.

Something that turns on a light, broadens a perspective, shows that unknown options exist and anyone can utilize them if they choose to do so and act on the choice.

So writing with purpose isn't a new concept to me. But those goals have defined the purpose for writing a specific book--each specific book. I've never before considered them in relation to the body of work I'm creating.

My body of work has not had a defined purpose. It has not had a single goal that can be attributed to all of the books except in the broadest of terms. I've been remiss!!!

So begins my exploration for that specific body-of-work purpose--and Mr. Emerson's quote, for me, defines it perfectly. I have a starting point.

I am a genius. Not bragging or complaining, just stating a fact with no more or less importance placed on it than on the fact that I am a woman. I had nothing to do with either designation or attribute; the characteristics were divined, like having blonde hair, blue eyes and a crooked nose. But recognition of the human condition? That, I--we all--can choose to do. To notice, acknowledge and either accept or reject. And I can choose the value I place on that recognition. Every human being can. Every writer can.

And that's now the mission. To clearly define my goal for the body of work I'm creating, recognizing the human condition and the value in it.

Mr. Emerson's insight humbles me. How brilliant he was to recognize and verbalize the importance of this. At times, our own rejected thoughts do come back to us both alien and majestic.

And at times, from a mere few words strung together with purpose by someone who has pondered life and humanity and the human heart, we glimpse the mysteries and discover that which we had failed to notice or recognize. We become aware of what we had neglected.

That awareness is a valuable gift. In it is an opportunity to change that circumstance. A chance to redefine our purpose, to hone it so that it becomes clearer to us in our vision of what we want to do with our lives.

Writing requires physical work, yes. But it carries equal demands on our emotions--the method through which we connect with readers--and spiritually--our shared perspectives, attitudes, fears and ideas, beliefs and hopes and dreams. We relay our experiences, define the world and people around us. We attribute qualities that appeal and repulse us. Through our stories and the characters in them, we live.

And life, being precious and elusive and ours for only a short time, should be lived with intention. The clearer our vision of what we hope to accomplish through our writing, the more successful we are at defining and fulfilling intent.

I'm reminded of something I once heard about the end of life. I can't quote it directly; it's been a long time since I heard it. But it was about not reaching the end of life neat and tidy. It was about skidding in sideways, exhausted and used up, thinking, "What a ride!"

Used up, as in replete, content and satisfied that you'd explored all that most mattered to you. Without regret that you'd always played by the rules and always ended up on the short end of the stick without much satisfaction to show for a tremendous amount of effort.

All mortal life ends. It's how it's lived that matters. I kind of like that skidding in sideways visual image--so I'm going to keep it, and Mr. Emerson's insight, in mind and further define my body-of-work goals.

Hmm. Two lines of text and it's been on my mind for three days. I've read hundred thousand word books that didn't linger three hours. Haven't you?

Imagine... To have that kind of residual effect, to have someone read your book and then ponder on it as it relates to their own life... Now that's a goal for a body of work, isn't it?

And that's what's on my mind this morning... Well, one of two things. The other is wondering why this emerald ring that popped up unexpectedly in the writing is so determined to be significant.  I have no idea why, or to whom--yet.*

Blessings,

Vicki

©2008, Vicki Hinze 

Tags: Creativity, body of work, purpose, writing, authors, novelists, writers, books, writers, meaning, life, matters, significance

WELCOME 2008!

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

ACCEPTANCE

ATTITUDE

ASPIRATIONS



A new year. A chance for a new beginning, a new direction--a fresh start.

Some changes we make will be so welcome, we’ll open our arms and embrace them with enthusiasm and zeal and a “Oh, yes! Finally!”

We acknowledge them, accept them into our minds and hearts, and our attitude is, well, welcoming. We’re excited. We’ve wanted this and now we’re going to go for it. We’re determined. And we’re going to apply ourselves and exercise the discipline and devotion required to get it.

We believe in this change. We want and maybe even need it. And we have faith that it is good and right for us and that we have the skills and tools we need to embrace it. We aspire, and we believe.

And because we do acknowledge the change, what it is, why we want or need it, we know its place and its importance in our lives. Because we accept that it requires our effort to obtain this change. Because we have an open attitude and we’re ready to and willing to exercise application and aspire with the confidence that we can get it, we are worthy of having it, we sincerely choose to embrace it, the odds are very good that we will get it.

Guaranteed?

No. Of course not. Our view is limited to our perspective and, while we have all the elements in place to make wise choices, that limitation on our viewpoint prohibits us from seeing clearly our own big picture. The big picture that is the full view of the complete us. The big picture that knows something we think can be good and positive and constructive for us, isn’t. It somehow falls short of our greatest good.

Realizing this offers several critical insights:

1. Initiating change is a marvelous gift and, tested by us for its value and deemed good, we should go for it with everything we’ve got.
2.If we make the change, celebrate it. Consciously (our limited view) and subconsciously (our less limited view) the change was deemed good and we did it. That’s a good thing. A magnificent thing. Go us!
If we don’t make the change, before we condemn it (and ourselves for not making it) we need to examine the change closely.

A. Did we lose our determination? Our zeal? If so, we need to know why.
1. If we lacked discipline, then we need to work on that.
2. If we determined that the change wasn’t good for us after all, then we need to celebrate our grasping of that insight--and we need to know why the change wasn’t good for us.
a. If the change proves that it would have been just plain bad, then we should celebrate that we didn’t change. We didn’t get off track because we realized it soon enough to save ourselves from ourselves. We were spared the agony and consequences of bad choices. Celebrate being spared. Celebrate the wisdom gained--we won’t make that bad choice for that reason again!
b. If the change doesn’t prove it would have been bad or good--it appears good, it appears it would have been great, then we need to examine why we didn’t do it.
i. If we didn’t embrace the change because we were afraid of it for whatever reason, then we should celebrate recognizing the fear and determine why we were afraid. Eventually, we will work our way around to grasping that fear is a thief. It will steal all from us that we let it. And so we must choose to stare into fear’s face and do what we must do anyway, or to stare ourselves in the face and admit that we didn’t stand up to the fear. We chose to let it win. The first speaks of courage--not the absence of fear, but doing what we must do in spite of it--the second of cowardice--giving fear total control and power. We choose which, courage or cowardice, we embrace.
ii. If we didn’t embrace the change because we intuitively knew that, while it appeared good, something was amiss and it wasn’t just insecurity or fear holding us back, then we should celebrate. We often subconsciously work through things and note challenges that take much longer for us to realize on a conscious level. We trusted our instincts, and that means we’re working in harmony with our entire selves and that’s growth--and success. We celebrate growth and success.

There are occasions and situations when we can’t see down roads we don’t take. There are times when we can’t project whether or not a change would have been detrimental or constructive and all we have is the knowledge that we did or did not embrace the change.

It is those times that are most difficult on us because we tend to gnaw on whatever decision we made, fearing we made the wrong one and we’ll pay the price for being wrong forever.

Sometimes, that’s inevitable. Life’s lessons don’t come easily. They smack us hard to get and keep our attention. But even then, is that a bad thing? Only if we choose to let it be. We take hard lessons in deep, and often, because we do, we’re spared even harder lessons. There’s merit in that. Good comes from it.

Too often we’re programmed to see the good in good and to avoid all bad. But bad experiences have value--and they can have very good outcomes. They can prepare and season us. If, for example, you went to pitch in a world series, only you’d never played ball, the experience couldn’t be a good one. But what if you’d nearly been born playing baseball? What if you’d suffered your share of sore arms, broken fingers, bruised elbows, and strained shoulders all along the way? Sports injuries that cost you dearly. Precluded you from playing in key games, the regional tournament. One cost you a scholarship. You really, really wanted that scholarship. You needed that scholarship. And you didn’t get it.

Now back when these injuries occurred, you would have believed with all your heart that these were bad experiences. Awful, painful ones that frustrated and upset you for their injustice.

But now you’re headed to the world series. And you’re put into a position where you can do xyz. You want to do xyz; the temptation is strong. But because you had that strained shoulder in high school and blew the pass that would have gotten you that coveted scholarship, you knew better now. You recognized unstated risks and decided they were too high to pay again. This time, you chose not to act. And because you didn’t, you walk into the world series uninjured.

So did the “bad” high school experience have value? It sucked when it happened, but that didn’t deem it worthless. Wisdom was gained. At a price, but wisdom worth having isn’t cheap. Now that wisdom spared your bacon. Now that’s something to celebrate, too, eh?

So here’s the question: When’s the last time you celebrated (or saw the good in) a bad experience?

Tough one, I know. I battle it all the time. It’s hard to be grateful for the “bad” and that’s the simple truth. But there are often gems in them. Gems in disguise.

And there are those times when we just don’t know why change or something we want desperately doesn’t work out. It is these times that are especially trying because they hit us on every level--physical, emotional and spiritual. What affects the body or the emotions can be difficult. But what tries the soul is hands down the worst.

Yet if we’ve done all we can to make wise choices and to examine and understand, then we’ve done all we can do. We know it, and we must have faith in ourselves--we’ve done our part to earn our trust--and be at peace. What we need to know will come to us. Awake or asleep. Because we seek it, or because it finds us.

In believing that, there is comfort.

In knowing that, there is contentment.

So happy 2008. My wish for you is this:

May you have trust and faith. May you find comfort in change, or in its absence. May wisdom be your gift and guide, and celebration your constant companion. And most of all, in all you do, I wish you contentment.

Blessings,

Vicki


Vicki Hinze
©2008


Resolutions, authors, writers, novelists, readers, books, purpose, balance, change, celebration

Amazing Grace...On the Record

During the course of a given day, I’m asked an average of thirty questions. Most come from other writers, but others regularly come from agents, editors, reviewers, booksellers and others in the industry. Then there are friends and family and those from strangers who might or might not be writers. People who’ve read my blog and just want to talk over something important to them.

I welcome all these exchanges. I stay invested and interested and I am and always have been fascinated by people. I really like them. So it’s from that perspective that I say the things I’m about to say.

Questions come in clusters. Maybe it’s collective focus. The cycle of the moon and/or planets. The state of the economy or any of a million other factors. I’m not sure, but in the past decade, it’s very common to get a group of questions on the same topic at the same time. Yet in that same decade, this is the first time I recall being asked so often why I do the things I do. This has been a BIG cluster. :)

For the most part, these questions have been on two things:
1. Why do I write so many articles, do so much teaching, and not charge money for it?
2. Why do I invest so much time in trying to help other writers instead of focusing solely on my own career?

The core reason I teach and do the articles and the podcasts and lectures and seminars and workshops goes back to when I started writing. There was no Internet. There were two main writers’ magazines and little else. There were no writers’ groups in my area, and in fact, I didn’t know another writer.

Many hours of many days were spent in frustration, trying to learn craft and the business. I had no one to ask questions and no one to go to when I was lost and grappling and confused. More often than not, I learned the right way by doing something the wrong way. That’s why when asked about eduction, I seldom cite the MFA in Creative Writing or the Ph.D. in Theocentric Business and Ethics. I generally cite The School of Hard Knocks. It is most accurate (I had four or five books published before getting my MFA).

It was, simply put, difficult. Frustrating. Irritating. Disheartening. Annoying. A royal pain in the ass. And I have not forgotten. I promised myself then that if I ever learned anything I would share it. It’s a promise I’ve tried to keep and will continue to try to keep so long as I draw breath.

In the last two weeks, as well as the general why do you do this, I’ve received warm and generous remarks about the worth and value of what I do. I’ve also received one note that declared my motives couldn’t be good because “nobody does something for nothing.”

I took exception to that comment, and then discovered the author of it was right. We don’t do something for nothing. We do what we do for purpose. Said author was totally off-base in the purpose cited, but the truth is, there is a purpose. There are purposes, I should say.

My Aids4Writers program got started as the result of my annual self-improvement program. I wanted to do something “good for goodness’ sake.” I couldn’t ask or expect anything in return. I posted writing-related insights every day for a year. Toward the end of the year, I mentioned that it’d be time to work on a new improvement and the members of the group asked me to continue. I did. For several years, I posted at least 3 or 4 times a week. Now, a decade later, I answer questions, post lecture notes, articles and that type thing. Most of the responses are private (rather than to the group) because they are so person-specific). Any can ask, and while I freely admit I by no means know it all, I share what I can.

So my purpose was to do good for goodness’ sake. It still is. And on the general teaching and sharing front, too, there is purpose: to know I’ve done what I could to keep other writers from being frustrated, annoyed, irritated, disheartened and suffering royal pains in their asses because they don’t know and have no idea where to go to find out. They have someone to go to who gets the challenge.

That might not sound like a lot, or worthy of purpose to some, but to me it’s more than enough. And to one in the challenge it’s something. That person isn’t alone, isn’t the only person to have faced this challenge and someone’s walked the path before them and is willing to walk it again with them. Often there is solace in that and just knowing it gives a person the push to keep seeking. What’s the value of a push? Depends on how stuck you are in the muck or mired down you are, I’d say.

I don’t charge money for teaching because that is at odds with my purposes for doing it. It’s that simple. I’ve trudged through a lot of mud puddles. If I can help someone else avoid them, I will. And I trust that my financial needs will be met in other ways, namely, through my books. So far it’s worked out.

As to the 2nd question....

I don’t focus solely on my career because that’s not how I choose to live. I’m building a career, yes. But I’m also building a life. Some authors do have that beam focus and it works well for them. I do what works for me. People matter to me.

Readers aren’t just people who buy my books. Booksellers aren’t just people who sell my books. Editors don’t just buy and publish. Reviewers don’t just review. People are not just what they do for me. They have lives and dreams and interests and fears. They worry, they struggle, they deal with problems and they love. People matter.

Yes, I want my books to do well. I want them to do very well. But I don’t want to sacrifice caring about the people involved to attain that--yet it doesn’t have to be an either/or choice. And that is the point of this post.

You decide on your purpose. Often this is more recognition than decision. Regardless, you identify it. And then you work toward it. Balance is a beautiful thing, and in my experience, when one lacks it, s/he forfeits inner peace and fulfillment. When one finds the right balance for him/her, then there’s peace.

There will always be those who question your motives and who opt for cynical views on why others do the things they do. We can’t change others. We can offer them a glimpse inside us as an opportunity--that they might see a different way or thought or idea or perspective. But they must choose their purpose and path. They must find their balance and their fulfillment and determine the value of these things to them.

And that is as it should be. We all have our pets and our pet peeves. We all have our own issues. And how we deal with them is our personal choice.

I choose my purposes and my teaching and doing what I can in ways I can. While that might not work well for others, it works well for me. As for financial needs, they’ll be met. I believe it. As for my books doing well, they’ll be fine. I believe that, too. As for why I’m certain, well, that’s where grace comes in.

Amazing Grace.

Blessings,

Vicki