Authors and Editors and Agents! Oh, My!

This past weekend, I attended the South Carolina Writer's Workshop conference in Myrtle Beach. What an experience!

Friday morning I learned about memoir writing from Jackie K. Cooper, author of five memoirs. That afternoon, I went to a social networking class taught by Janet Reid, an agent with FinePrint Literary Management in New York City. Janet has a hilarious sense of humor and entertained us all, especially on two occasions when she accidentally replaced the term 'social' in Social Networking with a word generally reserved for intimate relations between a man and a woman. Who knew a New York agent could turn so red?

It was interesting to encounter Janet's more laid back personality and then contrast it with the intense agents that taught two of the Saturday classes I attended. One in particular I found especially intimidating but I still attempted to try to form some type of bond with him that night when standing in line at dinner in hopes of getting all the contacts I could.

Before going to stand in line, I thought I overheard him complaining to the agent next to me about a woman at his table who had been pestering him all day. While we were waiting in line, I leaned over and confidentially asked him, "Do you have a stalker?"

"No," he replied, looking at me oddly. "Do you?"

I laughed and attempted to clarify why I had brought it up but by that time he had already taken a giant two foot step back. He avoided eye contact with me the rest of the way down the buffet and pretended not to hear me any time I tried to talk to him again. He shall remain nameless lest he stumble across this and still think I'm trying to be his stalker.

I have a great deal more I'd like to write but Janet said to keep blog posts to a max of 250 words. Since I'm already over that, the rest will have to wait. For any writers looking for tidbits, please ask away and I'll share as much as I can next time.

Until then!
RJ

Authenticity

As a little girl, I adored my dad. I used to wear my sparkly "Daddy's Girl" t-shirt everywhere. When my parents divorced though, I held my dad completely responsible. For years, I was horribly cruel to him though it was very seldom outright. I was shamelessly passive aggressive - taking cheap shots, keeping him at a distance, and putting everyone else above him.

Several years ago, we had an awful blowout, one that had been building for over a decade. I said some terrible things I wish I could take back, and not for the first time. I remember screaming at him at one point: "Why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I love you!" he yelled back.

Unlike many fathers, my dad has always been good about telling me that he loves me but it was only then when he was able to say it in the heat of our worst fight ever, at a time when I was being brutally mean to him, that I truly understood how very much he meant it and had always meant it.

Our relationship improved greatly after that as I started to see my dad in a new light. I was so afraid of losing that relationship again though that I started trying to do things to impress him, talk only about topics I knew he was interested in, and say only what I thought he wanted to hear.

Part of recovering from the shock of my husband's string of affairs has been learning to love myself enough to be who I really am despite how others might react. Tonight, when my dad asked me a philosophical question, I began responding by giving him the answer I thought would most impress him. I could feel genuineness draining from me the more I talked though so I finally stopped, backed up and told him what I really thought. Not only did I feel better after doing so but he then told me of his experiences recently starting telling people what he really thinks about certain topics. He said he has been pleasantly surprised to find that, while some people were turned off by his views, many more actually liked him better for his honesty.

One of the lessons I learned early in my recovery was that people cared more for and opened up more to me when I admitted my flaws rather than pretending to be perfect. It was one of the most freeing experiences of my life but somehow, ever so subtly, I've slowly begun to sink back into the belief that I am only loved when I am what I think others want me to be. What a blessing to have a dad who affirms that I'm loved best when I'm simply me.

Until next time,
RJ

Better Than One

Several weeks ago I climbed Crowders Mountain by myself (http://memoirchronicler.blogspot.com/2009/08/journey-begins.html). What a rush! This past weekend, my middle brother and my mom came to visit me and climbed the mountain with me. What an experience! It took at least twice as long to get up the mountain with them as it did to go myself and at times, I got irritated they were so slow.

Isn't that the way life is sometimes? I know I certainly prefer to do things all by myself whenever possible. Interestingly though, I found that as we took our time getting up the mountain, I saw things with them I never would have noticed on my own, one of them being the shot above which I call 'Shark Rock - Woo, Ha, Ha' (those who haven't seen Finding Nemo or who don't have as weird a sense of humor as my family may not get that latter reference…).

I was so determined to reach the top when I went by myself that I didn't really look around me much the last time I trekked up. This time, because I was slowed down by my family, I discovered the shot above, my favorite of the entire day. I would not have even noticed it if my brother hadn't stopped to shoot the rock and, though my mom and I immediately noticed how much the rock looked like a shark coming out of the 'water,' when I asked my brother to pose in front it, I never would have thought of the creative position he took which was far more clever than what I'd had in mind.

That's the thing with adding people into your life. It can be aggravating at times because it means changing your agenda. But, it's so much fuller when done with others.

Until next time!
RJ

A Picture of Peace

"A picture says 1,000 words," or so the saying goes. But a picture can never entirely capture the pure essence of a particular time and place which is why I have posted none this week.

After getting out of bed ridiculously late today, I finally got out to run some errands this afternoon. The first was going to be to an antique shop to look for old books but the weather was so enchanting the thought of being inside seemed terribly confining. Instead, I decided to take a casual stroll through a nearby park.

Early into my walk I found a bench on the side of the walkway and sat down to admire the scene before me. Some of what I saw could have been captured on film - the young couple sitting on a sheet under the shade of an oak tree, the boy stretched out lazily and the girl sitting cross-legged admiring the open field before her; a dog flipping to its back, rolling in the grass like a puppy; a young brother and sister chasing each other through the trees, the sister falling to her chubby knees completely unhampered in her play; a middle age girl running across the field to the top of a small hill.

But a camera couldn't catch the way the small children's mother called to them to be careful or how I felt watching the middle school girl talking to her father after running back across the field calling for her dad. The way he bent down to talk to her confidentially reminded me of the days my dad and I would plot before making a soccer play against the opposing team full of friends and other family members. A photograph also couldn't capture the elephant-like screeching of a swing straining to hold an adult woman where only a child should be or her laughter as she experiences the delight of being a child herself once more.

Most of all, a picture could not portray the way the cool, clean breeze blew the dust and cobwebs gathered from the drudge of my recent life so deeply out of my soul so I still feel completely at peace regardless of the hectic hurry of the world around me. If I could but capture all these sounds and feelings into the perfect picture, how many others might stop to embrace their own serenity as well?

May you find peace this week,
RJ