How Many Risks Are You Willing To Take?

I was pointed to this article via Debbie Ohi (@inkygirl on Twitter) written by the always brilliant Ms. Jane Friedman. It was full of helpful questions and thoughtful observations about what it takes to become a successful writer. And it's not always about talent. It is a lot about how how many risks you take and how you respond to failure.

There is one line that really caught my attention. Ms. Friedman says

"It’s the old cliché: Nothing risked, nothing gained. Playing it safe as a writer will lead to mediocre writing at best. If you’re not failing, you’re not shooting high enough."

Which made me think about the kind of person I am and whether I have enough courage to take the risks I need to challenge myself - both as a person and as a writer. I'm a cautious person by nature. I think things through and weigh the pros and cons of every decision. I'm a slow and steady wins the race kind of gal who is comfortable with a certain level of routine and a need to plan ahead so there are few to little surprises in store (did I mention I hate surprise birthday parties, too?) Makes me sound pretty dull and boring, no? Yeah, that's what I think too. But there is one thing about me that balances that cautionary nature out: once I make a decision, there is no looking back and re-assessing or regretting that decision. It is what it is and I will make the best of it and learn and grow from that decision.

Lately, I've been feeling the need to challenge myself more - and not only in writing but with other areas of life. I have felt that lack of challenge creating a restlessness within me. Now, with so many changes happening on the home front I am also looking to challenge myself on the writing front. How that will turn out, I don't know. But I do know that if I don't risk some things nothing will change and human beings have survived and dominated because they have adapted best to change.

Change, risk, failing, getting up again, trying something new, challenging the status quo, facing your fears, leaping into the great unknown - however you wish to describe it - is necessary and vital to keep you from becoming complacent and bored. And is that how you really want to feel on a daily basis? Not me. So, say it with me folks, a little risk is a good thing. If I fail it meant I at least tried.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

I don't write horror nor am I a particular rabid fan of the genre but I do admire those authors who can scare the beejeezus out of people. It is a talent most rare.

At one point in my life - primarily in my teenage and early twenties days - I was a huge Stephen King fan and loved watching horror movies. Reading the book IT made me even more deathly afraid of clowns. I have vivid recollections of the TV series Night Gallery (gah, The Earwig! Dolls coming to life *shudder*). I remember calling my friend Jan on the phone when we were both home alone at our respective houses watching the TV adaptation of King's 'Salem's Lot and at a crucial point (I think a vampire was floating outside the window of a 2nd floor bedroom asking to be let in or something) the roll-up blinds in Jan's bedroom flew up with a clatter causing her to scream over the phone and me to have a heart attack. I remember watching my brother reading The Exorcist and him having to put the book down every few minutes and pace around just to get a break from the tension. He still remembers seeing the movie when it first came out and the hype was about people fainting in the aisles during the screening. He said the producers weren't over-hyping. The movie was that freaky. I still have vivid memories about The Blair Witch Project and going home alone (8 months pregnant) thinking the movie wasn't that bad but, when faced with a dark, empty house (hubby and Daughters One and Two were gone) and calling up my Golden Retriever to the bedroom, allowing her to sleep in the bed with me (strictly a forbidden thing until that point) and locking the bedroom door against … what, really? Don't even get me started on Paranormal Activity or The Ring. Nightmares, I tell you.

So you'd think that with all those vivid recollections I would run the other way when my daughter said she wanted to see this very hyped and buzzed West End hit play called "Ghost Stories" that's now playing here in Toronto. I have to admit, the advertising is very well done. Warnings in the ads state:

"Please be advised that Ghost Stories contains moments of extreme shock
and tension. The show is unsuitable for anyone under the age of 14"

They even have videos showing audience members cowering behind their coats and screaming at key moments.

Ya. Sounds like fun, huh?

Well, instead of running the other way, the two daughters, my brother, hubby and I will be going to see it this Saturday (the Boy does NOT enjoy scary things. He will be at a friend's house well away from ghosts, demons and other supernatural beings). My brother has said that he wants his money back if he's not terrified when he turns off the lights that night. My brother is sick. The teenage girls like to be scared and love to scream so they're all in. My husband will think it's stupid. And me? I used to enjoy being frightened but now I'm not so sure. Why put myself through the stress? Yet, horror is a big business. Do it well and you've got a career out of it. Hello? Stephen King, R.L. Stine? But people wanting to be scared? I don't get it. What is it about some people that like to have that fear adrenaline rush?

What about you? What really scares you when you read or watch a movie (besides bad writing that is :)? I'll let you know if the play was as good as the hype or if the overpriced tickets were a scam. And if I survived...

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today I was waiting for the release of my book Illegally Blonde. I wrote a blog post on the day before the release where I wrote these words

... for now I am taking a deep breath, being a bit more reflective of what this not insignificant event means and what it might - or might not - change in my life. It may not change anything in my future at all, really. But even if it doesn't I know what has led up to it has already changed me. Writing and publishing a book has opened my life up in so many different ways. I've met so many new and interesting people I'd never have had the opportunity to meet otherwise. I'm already changed, I hope, for the better. And because of that, I think I owe it to myself to reflect a little this week. To dream a little bit about the future but mostly, to appreciate my incredible good fortune on having gotten this far and understanding how special this moment really is. The past informs our future and while we can't live in it we must surely appreciate what has happened to us to get us here and to keep us going in the future. So tomorrow, when the book is officially 'out' I may just be sitting quietly at home, not doing anything much beyond spending time with my kids and husband and thinking to myself: Nelsa, you're a very, very lucky girl.

So then I was looking to the future and now I'm looking into the past and, let me tell you, it's a very interesting view. Why?

Because one year ago today I had no clue that right after my book was released my mom would be diagnosed with breast cancer. I had no idea that the stress and anxiety of planning and having a book launch would pale into insignificance when measured against the stress and anxiety about to invade my personal life for the next nine months. It was a surreal summer of celebrating a huge achievement in my writing life and also waiting with dread to hear whether my mom's cancer had spread. On one day I'd find my book was a recommended read in the Canadian Children's Book News magazine summer issue and the next day I'd be sitting in a waiting room waiting for my mom's surgery to be over. To say I was feeling exceptionally strung out would be a major understatement. Then add to that minor details like moving out of our home and my baby girl leaving for university and it's no wonder that my writing last year became something like the runt in a litter of puppies. There and still important but unfortunately neglected due to all the other stronger pups vying for the mother's limited attention.

But now, looking back on that surreal year, I think all that happened because the universe was trying to tell me that for every goal that you set for yourself and that you believe is the reason behind your life here on earth, for every mountain you think you need to climb, you need to remember that no goal is so important that it overshadows all the other stuff happening in your life. So, to all my fellow writers out there, indulge me a bit in my retrospective look back on a most momentous year and forgive me for giving some unasked for and maybe un-needed advice in the next few sentences. But if you can, please, please always remember this:

Your LIFE is about more than getting a book published. Your LIFE is joy, trauma, headaches, laughter, work, friendships, children, parents, school, vacation, bills, watching TV, walking the dog, cooking, cleaning, reading with your kid, picking out shoes with your daughters, crying, hugging your husband/boyfriend, taking a nap, going to every freaking cold hockey arena in the city to watch your kid play a game you still don't quite understand, taking your child to the dentist/doctor/optometrist, having lunch/dinner with a girlfriend, watching your mother cry with worry, sending texts to your brother, screaming in your car, singing Kanye West songs with your kids, painting a shed, writing in your journal, doing laundry, blubbering at Toy Story 3, going to the hairdresser, venting with a friend, having a glass of wine (or two), looking up at the sky and thanking God your mother is cancer free now.

So, yes, I achieved one goal by getting my book published. Yes, I'm very proud of that. But I'd throw it away in a second if I could have prevented my mom from having to go through her cancer scare last year. She made it through. I still have both my parents. I have my children and husband with me. What have I learned in the year since I became a published author?

I'm still one very, very lucky girl.

What Makes a True Hero?

So, as you know, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months ago. With each step through the process we've all wondered when she'd break down, become that anxious, worry-prone person we all thought she was all her life and be unable to cope with whatever comes next. We were all prepared to have to prop her up through this - to help her face her greatest fear. Well, you know what? She's surprising us all. Somehow she has come up with the inner strength to stay calm, focussed and, most importantly, panic-free. I guess what none of us realized all these years was that she always had this inside her. We underestimated her strength and resolve. As I've done my whole life, I'm still learning from her and about her.

This strength in the face of adversity is what makes you root for someone. It is the ability to consciously know that even if the foe is the scariest thing in the world to you (or you've made it the scariest thing in the world) you won't run and hide from it. You face it. You deal. This is, I believe, the core of a true hero. This is what so many of us wish to be yet so few of us are.

If we've lived a charmed life we may never have to face what truly terrifies us. I wouldn't wish anything but a life filled with rainbows and butterflies for my kids (well, maybe not butterflies because my ten year old is truly terrified of them) but that would be selfish of me. I want my children to be able to face their fears. A life of ease isn't what builds great character. Your true self shines when things are at their worst and you have to come up with a way to push through the dark. When all seems lost the true hero does not give in to despair but finds the strength, somewhere, somehow, to go through another hour, another day. That is what I hope for my children - that they have the ability - like my mom - to push through the dark.

I hope I capture the elements of a true hero when I develop the characters in my writing. But even if I don't, it doesn't matter. I've been blessed and inspired to actually know a real life hero. You go, Mom.

On the Terrifying Cusp of Change

It's March 1st. I can't quite believe it. Spring is around the corner. I can feel the changes coming in the air (cue Phil Collins music here). ILLEGALLY BLONDE releases in T-minus 30 days. On March 25th I'll be making my first appearance on a writer's panel at a local university to discuss how immigration affected my writing. I'm starting to plan my book launch (in April) but I'm also dealing with things like ordering bookmarks, putting together information packages about my book and me, the author. Weirdness times ten. Yes, it will be a month of huge firsts and highly stressful yet exciting changes in my life. I can't quite believe these things are happening. Even my horoscope is hinting at these events. Check this out:

The month ends with big news about your career. The full moon on March 29 will illuminate your standing in your industry, your company, or concerning a job you have interviewed for. You will get answers now, and if you get a new job (very possible), the position you will move into is likely to be one that comes with quite a bit of responsibility. It will bring you lucrative ways to make money, too, and it seems to include a performance-based commission or bonus. Your new job won't be an easy one - you will have to adjust and learn as you go - but this new job will come with power and authority. That's the kind of job that is right up your ally, so snap it up.

Yes. Adjust and learn as you go. That's really the crux of this whole writing journey, isn't it?

There should be a bloody manual that all new writers get before they put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard for the first time that talks about the terrifying emotional journey you take as a writer. Sure, there is a wealth of knowledge, information, support and advice in the writing community. You can research how to write query letters, how to structure novels, how to market, how to network etc. etc. etc. but until you go through it, until you experience the jaw-dropping amount of information you have to accumulate, until you experience the joy and agony of the query and manuscript submission process, until you experience the difficulty in putting yourself out there when you may be introverted or overwhelmed by the daunting impossibility of having your book be noticed in the sea of books being released, until you realize it's not just the writing of the story anymore, you could literally throw that pen or keyboard away and say "Forget it. It's too much. It's just too much."

And yet.

Adjust and learn as you go.

Every new thing learned requires some kind of adjustment. And in order to grow we need to learn. So, yes, this is a terrifying time for me - and probably for a lot of writers proceeding on the next step of the publishing journey, whatever that may be. Submitting to an agent can be terrifying. But once you do it a few times it's not so bad. Revising a manuscript can seem impossibly daunting. And it is. But once you do it you are that much more likely to be better at it the next time. Never marketed yourself before? Never blogged, never tweeted, never walked up to strangers at conferences and introduced yourself, never sat on a writers panel? Do it once and it is scary, do it a few times and it does get easier. At least I hope so! :)

Adjust and learn as you go. Yes. I think that's going to be my mantra for the next month. Maybe the next few years.

Suspended Animation

So I'm almost ready to hit the send button on the final copy edits to Illegally Blonde (still double/triple checking things like my usual obsessive self). I should be very excited (and I am!) but more and more I'm feeling like I'm in a state of suspended animation. I know that as soon as I hit that Send button that will be it. I'll lose that last bit of control I've had with the book to this point. And that's as it should be. I guess, instead of just getting on with it, I'm taking the time to enjoy this last little bit of time alone with the book.

It's a scary thing sending a book off for this last part of the journey. Don't get me wrong. I know it's in great hands with Great Plains Teen Fiction.I know it will be taken care of by talented, responsible, incredibly supportive people. Yet, here I sit, not minding the waiting, liking the calm of this time and preparing myself for the unknown that launching a book will bring in the spring. But I also know that in the next few days I will hit Send and my state of suspended animation will stop. My anxiety and worry over launching a book will take over and I will wish for this time that seems so quiet now.

But I also know you get nowhere by being in a state of constant suspense. I know there will be huge, stressful, exciting changes that will replace my calm, suspended state very soon and who willingly wants to go through stress? But like my daughter said to me tonight, "What's the problem? Isn't your book being out a GOOD thing?"

Yes. Yes it is. A very good thing. Sigh.

Maybe hitting Send won't be that hard at all...

What's the Scariest Movie You've Ever Seen?

Okay, I may not be the biggest fan of Halloween - trying to figure out costumes, do make-up, make sure I have enough candy, decorate with skeletons and carve pumpkins exhaust me beyond my already epic exhaustion levels (a Monster-loving Mom I am not). But I do love me a good, scary movie. Well, at least I did. I'm not so sure I want to be scared anymore and I don't know why that is.

See, I'm trying to decide whether to go see Paranormal Activity. It's getting some really good word of mouth and reviews. Even the ads are slightly freaking me out. Sounds like a sure scary deal, right? So why am I hesitating?

Well, for one thing, hubby thinks scary movies are kinda dumb so he wouldn't waste his time. None of my girlfriends are really that into fright fests and my oldest daughter hasn't indicated an interest. But beyond not having a date for the movie I think the reason I'm hesitating is that I don’t really want to be scared.

I used to love movies like Friday the 13th (the original, people!), Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween (the original, people!) etc. Ahh, those wonderful, wacky scary films of my youth. But as I got older and I saw movies less and less, the scary ones started to freak me out more and more. I remember seeing The Blair Witch Project when I was about 8 months pregnant with my second child. I had no prior knowledge of what the movie was about so went in with an open mind. I remember being kind of creeped out watching it but nothing huge in terms of big frights. I went home that night and I was home alone - both hubby and first child were gone for the weekend - and as I walked upstairs to bed I started feeling this kind of creepy, crawly sensation down my back. I called the dog upstairs, figuring I was just overreacting to being alone in the house and being so hugely preggers. But as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about that last scene in Blair Witch. Remember? The one in the deserted house, in the basement, when you catch a quick glimpse of someone facing a wall? Like you expected that person to turn around and give you a severe fright but the camera just blanked out? Man, I don't know if it was the pregnancy hormones or what but I got up, locked the bedroom door, let my dog jump into bed with me and tried to go to my happy place.

Since that movie the only other scary one I've seen is The Descent - which I will never want to watch again after having a major heart attack when I first glimpsed the creatures that lived in those caves. Yick.

Have I lost all courage? Am I a complete wuss? What happened to my fearless - almost gleeful - anticipation of being scared? I mean, I used to watch Rod Serling's Night Gallery when I was ten for pete's sake! If I can handle creepy dolls coming to life when I'm that young why am I hesitant about watching a ghost story like Paranormal Activity? Is it because maybe I really do believe ghosts exist? And the idea of something unseen, seeing me, is the ultimate creep out of all?

Sigh. I really do miss my old, fearless self.