Setting #Goals -- a post by mama virg

I used to post all of it on the blog, but in recent years I've gone far more private with a lot of my goals.

When I started, I did it for accountability--if I'd published online that I was going to do something, I was more likely to hold myself to the goals I'd set.

But then I became more involved in social media. Some folks were fantastic, really supportive and encouraging. They'd say they believed in me, rah-rah, that sort of thing.

Some folks? They attack you for being transparent. Whether they call the posts bragging or if they flat out say you can't do it, they're there to encourage that little voice in the back of your mind which told you that you couldn't do The Thing.

I say The Thing because it doesn't matter what goal you've set, they're out there to either accidentally or purposefully undermine what you're doing. Are you all about losing some weight this year?

"God, don't tell me about your salad or the fact you've managed a mile in under ten minutes!"

Sure, you may have just accomplished something really, really major (perhaps you were addicted to soda or couldn't walk the block without wheezing a few months prior to posting your update), they are there to tell you to stuff it.

This goes with writing, too, although it has always been mind boggling to me when other writers attack their own kind with cannibalistic glee. We're all out there, sitting alone with blank screens and minds full of doubts, trying hard to do something we've dreamed of. Why, when you know how hard it is to juggle life and storytelling, would you tear anyone else down? Can that actually make anyone, whether you're the poster or the one reading it, feel better about themselves?

Eh, well, it happens and it happens to everyone is my point there. It isn't always trolls, either. More often than not, the naysayers in the world are people we actually know--our family, our friends, our spouses. If they can't see where you're aiming or understand how you're planning to get there from here, they're as likely to accidentally shred dreams with their comments as strangers.

Even if they follow the statement with a jovial, "Oh, you know I'm only kidding!"

So, that said, I've been quieter about my personal goals. I've told some of them to my best friends. Some I've shared with my crit partners. But like a dragon guarding a treasure, I never gave anyone access to the whole dream. Almost like I thought if I only shared fragments with this person and other fragments with another...

No one could tell me I couldn't do it.
My point? Setting personal goals is important. Whether you share that goal with the world (joining something like NaNoWriMo where everyone can see that you're trying to write 50k in a month or joining a weight loss support group, for instance) or if you keep the nuggets spread out like me, the goal itself can drive you to more.

I told my kid the other day that he shouldn't worry what people think of him. Most people are far too concerned with the little voice in their own head--

The one saying, "Gah, I got coffee on my shirt. Now all anyone can see is the coffee stain...is there something in my teeth? God, I can't believe I just said that. I'm an idiot."

--to even bother worrying about all the things you're busy crucifying yourself for.

Because we all do that. We all fight the little voice in our heads. We wage a daily and constant war against the internal narrator, bury our insecurities with fake smiles, pretend we're okay when we're totally not...

I've said it before and I'll likely say it another thousand times--

If we spent our days working to bring up those around us, giving them hope, encouragement, and bringing light to the world in general, we probably still won't change the world. We likely won't even change our hometown.

But we can change the people around us, one smile at a time. If we make the people around us happier, we've changed OUR world, which is more than a lot of people ever manage.

Set goals. Nail them. Do a little butt wiggle and dance around your house with the joy of accomplishing The Thing, whatever your thing is.

Change your world instead of trying to change minds. You'll never change what the world thinks of you, but you can change how you look at it.

Sometimes all it takes to start is knowing one person believes in you.

xoxo
mama virg

Dancing in the rain

A dear friend recently pointed out to me that my life used to read like the pages of misadventure some of my less lucky characters face. Chaos, panic, one disaster following the other and constantly in a state of almost damsel like distress.

She was being kind, as I've faced some interesting storms over the course of my life (doesn't everyone, really?) however I gave it a bit of thought on my drive back and forth to school and realized it isn't that my life has become less stormy.

In the past week alone, my son was in a car accident with my mother (they got rearended), I got venom testing done (which sounds so much prettier than they shot me full of stuff I'm allergic to and blew me up like a pufferfish), I dealt with various midterms and midterm projects for college, my battery died on the car one day, my dad fell and a whole cluster of other lesser catastrophes (phone replacement and issues, spacebar dying, little things).

I realized it isn't so much that my life became less of a muddle, it is more that I've learned not to let the various roadblocks and scary moments stop me from moving on. I've learned, somewhere along the way, to dance in the rain.

I'm not sure when or how, but if I have one wish for anyone reading this? It is that whatever things are jumping in your path or flat out barricading your way...

I hope you dance in the rain and come out of the storm fresh and strong.

"So, why do you write romance, Virg?"

I got that question again, uttered in exactly the selfsame apologetic tone I've heard it asked in hundred times before. Sometimes I've been asked in an academic setting. I can hear all the accompanying words, since I've heard them before, too, even without asking for clarification.

"But you're actually very intelligent, Virginia. I mean, you could write something else, something really meaningful." Once, even, although I'm paraphrasing (but awful close to a direct quote), "You're wasting your talent, surely you can see that! You have a gift and you're using it to write trash. Doesn't that make you sick to your stomach? Aren't you ashamed?"

Jayden Neverfails, if you read that last bit, yeah...I still remember your words and they still *&^$ing hurt, thank you very much. Because you and everyone else that asks doesn't understand and can't, not really. I could use a thousand words and never make it make sense to you. But I can try...

I've heard the question in less academic settings, where the person is just mildly curious. After all, I could write a nice horror novel. Spatter some blood about. I have a gruesome enough imagination and the correct level of general cynicism--surely I could devote my use of the craft that direction instead of 'dithering away' in the romance genre.

I can admit, rather freely, regardless of the intent of the person asking me why I write romance, that it is bloody unlikely I'll ever truly give up doing it. Not for however long there are stories inside me, anyway. A lot of things combine to drive me to write these books.

For one, I love fairy tales. In real life, I've never found that kind of epic love. I've never been the woman to inspire single-minded devotion and an overwhelming need to never leave my side in a partner. Some have walked beside me for a time, some have stuck around and become friends, but the kind of love I write about? Yeah, I am not one of those romance novelists, enchanted by her real-life hero, who pens stories with that lover at the root of every hea she crafts. Me? I write the stories of what I think love should be like and I don't know that I think they're all entirely possible, even if I made it so on paper.

But I do feel one thing very, very strongly.

Romance novels are magic.

Why? Why, after only seconds ago admitting I'm not sure if it is possible to love like that in the real world, do I claim the stories are magic?

Because I've been surrounded by darkness, overwhelming hopeless and weighted dark. Scary, bad things have happened to me, situations I couldn't get out of or forget. I've been hit by deaths of loved ones that left me mired in overwhelming grief and sadness and not sure how I'd face a morning without my loved one in it.

I've been surrounded by sickness. I've been so not well, I wasn't even for a second wondering how I'd draw my next breath. Instead, I've been to the point where you're pretty sure you won't draw that next breath at all. When part of you just stills... and says with quiet acceptance, "Ah, so this is how I'm going to die."

I've been weighted by impossible realities. Bills too large to ever get paid, unsure where me and my family would sleep that night, unsure where I'd manage to find our next meal, unsure of abso-f*&%ing-lutely everything--other than feeling scared to death and not nearly a good enough person to make it past that point.

I've walked the midnight vigil only another parent would understand. That horrible lo-o-ong night when your child is gravely ill and you've spent all your tears and prayers and begging to whatever gods might be listening for that child to just make it through the darkness and see another sunrise. I've wheedled and bargained and made deals I could never hope to fulfill, been sure that nothing and no one heard my desperate cries...and yet there are still hours of hopeless night remaining where you just pace the floor (or the garden outside Rainbow Babies and Children Hospital, as the case may be) feeling entirely alone and inept.

In those times of darkness, depression, self-doubt and sometimes even abject hatred of myself, there has been one truth that always remained.

I could open a book and become someone else when the weight of my life was too great to carry.

I could fall into a story, become someone else--if even just for the duration of a chapter--and cry about something else. I could fall in love, even if I never quite managed it in real life with any sort of success, and the hero would love me back. I could laugh and be mad and feel a thousand different things, but by the end of the book...

There would be a happy ever after.

While reading those fictional happy ever afters, I can half believe in my own against all logical odds. I can hope that there is a reason for the dark times, that they might one day lead to ones that are brighter.

Sometimes hope is the one thing we're denied in the real world, but it shines so bright in the stories.

And that is why I write the books I write. Because somewhere, some day--maybe even today--some other person is lost in the darkness and isn't sure how they'll make it to morning. Maybe they're in a hospital bed, cradling a smart phone with an amazon app in their hand, facing unbeatable health odds, and maybe one of my stories is how they make it through their seemingly endless night. Maybe I can make them smile, even while their personal hell is bigger than any I've personally faced.

Maybe there is another mother, just like me, out there alone. Maybe she's so much like me that no one else is at that hospital with her...she's feeling young and inept and completely not good enough to fight for the precious life laying in a bed, but she'll be damned before she'll walk away. Maybe others walked away from her, left her alone in that battle, but she's not going to walk away. If I can give her  a measure of solace or even a moment of respite from the fears clogging her throat...

Then I'll keep telling these stories.

It is entirely possible none of that will ever happen. Maybe every time any of my stories are read, they're just a couple of hours of fluff and kinky sex, easily forgotten once the reader gets to The End. I know in the past (Dom of the Dead, for example, triggered A LOT of reader emails and messages suggesting others dealing with grief understood my need to bring that lost person back to life, if only on the page, and their words meant the world to me...) some of my stories have mattered to a few, and that is enough.

Even if I never manage to be the light again, I am happy that my words have been the light for someone else. Authors have written hundreds of books which were my lights, so if I've done that for even one reader?

Then my work is important.

It isn't a 'waste', because how can adding to the light in such a dark and pain-filled world ever be considered a waste?

Anyway, with less rambling--THAT is why I write romance. That is why this genre, these stories, this use of my life...because I've needed books like this. If I've needed them, others need them too. Maybe they won't find my book when they need that escape, and that is okay, because I'm not the only one writing these stories.

There are hundreds of us, thousands maybe. We're all sitting in the darkness (or light, if you're a morning writer) and putting word after word on the screen or paper
.  

We're a literal army of voices, rising up and chanting the most important words in the entirety of human experience.

• There is hope. 
• Everyone deserves love. 
• You can make it through this. 
• You are not alone.

There are other important words besides those ones. You'll hear the ones you need to hear in whichever book you're reading...because of that army of writers, all scrabbling to find new ways to scream into the dark and battle it back, even if only for a little while.

That is why I write romance. It makes me part of the battalion against hopelessness.

That is why I taught my children to read. I knew if I taught them nothing else, reading offered a key into a thousand other worlds. Reading would unlock the door to their souls and show them they weren't alone when I couldn't be there to remind them.

That is why this genre. Because even if I don't know how to make a love last in my life, I can create hope. Sometimes that is more powerful than real arms, anyway.

Eh, I guess this is a bit of a dark post. But as I watched the sun rise this morning and battled my personal demons, I remembered why I do this. When I get asked? Sometimes I just blink back tears of frustration or shake my head because no short answer says what I mean, not really. Often, I'll laugh and give some snarky answer.

"Why not spend my life writing about nipples?"
or

"Because kilts,duh."

When I actually mean something more like all of this...all this rambling truth. It might not be everyone's truth, but it is mine.

Just like everyone else, though, I often don't have the words to say what I mean. Feelings are bigger than words, which is why it takes a whole book to fit them.

Happy writing and reading and thanks for listening to an old lady babble.
xoxo
virg

If I lick it, it's mine and other relationship lies...

Sometimes, people think they see signs that aren't there. The movie, He's Just Not that into You covered a lot of this, but I figured I'd dispel more relationship rumors on the blog today, since I've been doing much book promo and not much Virg-ing over here lately.

So...time for a Li-I-I-I-I-I-st!!

 

He/She rocks me like a hurricane.

5. If I lick it, it's mine.

Sex isn't a relationship. Sex is sex. I remember being young and being confused about this one--it seems if you share intimate moments with someone (he's holding my hand! He must like me!) that there's something more than friendship there.

There isn't always. It's not kindergarten. If you lick it, it's still not always yours.

4. If everyone wants it, it's a good thing!

Not always. Sometimes, it's just shiny and no one else realizes how big of a disaster it is. Look for warning signs. If a person, for instance, says they're devoted to their child and blah blah blah, they can't see it any more and miss it terribly...ask how old the kid is. If the person then stops, scratches their chin and answers with a verbal question mark (Seven, I think?), they're full of poopie and there's a reason the shiny is single. If everyone wants it, this only means the package is pretty. There might be a whole box full of crazy under the wrapping paper.

3. It's in his/her kiss!

So, there's this myth that if someone kisses you and bells and whistles and fireworks go off, it means that this person is The One and meant for you forever.

Honey. This only means that you're chemically or pheremonally or whatever compatible. It's called lust and it's fun. However, it's not always the cocktail that brews up a great forever. Sometimes that spark is just that--a spark--and sparks fizzle. Sorry.

2. He/She wouldn't keep coming back if they didn't care!

Well, they might be just bored. Or lonely. Or have no one else willing to answer the phone at eleven pm. Again, not the marker you're thinking it is. Ask them to hang out at three pm on a Tuesday. Are they busy/not interested? Ask them to go to a movie. Ask them to go hang out at the mall. Busy?

Ride off into the sunset on your terms.

You're that person that they call when they're totally bored. This is not an earmarker of forever and ever happily together. You're their backup plan/spare tire/sure thing.

1. But when they look at me, I feel wonderful!

And you are wonderful. But don't give any human being ever that power. Be strong. You don't need them to let you know how fantastic you are.  I'll tell you. You're absolutely fantastic. Now, hang up the phone and go do something fun for you.

Mama Virg loves you.

Happy Writing!

Life Lessons from Once Upon a Time

If you follow my facebook feed, you probably already know I'm a huge fan of ABC's Once Upon a Time, but what about the life lessons we can learn from the show?

And, yes, me and my darling children often talk about stuff like this...heehee.

5. Adoption is wonderful.

The show manages to explore very different adoption stories. Emma's parents shoved her in a magical tree and saved her from a curse that ripped through their world by transporting her to our world--magicless, parentless, alone. Sent into the system, she never really finds a place to call home and is alone and imprisoned because she turned to a life of crime...

Her child is Henry, a beautiful boy adopted by an evil queen. Emma knew she couldn't give Henry what he needed in life, so she put him up for adoption and Regina became his mother.

Henry got two parents out of this deal--Regina AND Emma. I've seen a lot of real life adoption stories work out and for those who think kids cannot become family if they're not part of your genetic code, this show really explores the fact that family isn't carried solely on chromosomes. Family is the people who care, the ones who fight for you.

Regina IS Henry's mother. She changed his diapers, taught him to walk and read, loved him from the moment she met him. Emma IS Henry's mother, she never stopped loving him because she gave him up for adoption. While she wasn't with him, she carried him in her heart just as truly as she carried him in her body.

Real life is like this--we might find family that's not blood, whether through adoption or friendship, and it doesn't diminish our love for those who we're connected to biologically. It fills a need, gives us more to love...and I don't know that I've seen it represented this well on any other program.

4. True Love doesn't magically fix everything.

Charming and Snow are in true love, but it's not a magical fix for their problems. It can be argued that Bae and Emma are also examples of true love--again, not a sure thing for forever. While true love is a wonderful gift, something mystical and spiritual and altogether rare, it's not a wonderwand that sweeps in and removes the drudgery of day to day problems.

When we're young, we maybe believe that love can conquer all, but at the end of the day, love can't pay the electric bill. Exploring that with fairy tale characters is just AWESOME.

3. The line between bad and good is grayer than we'd like it to be.

Regina is the 'evil queen', Snow is the 'good guy', Emma is the product of True Love--Magic come to Life. 

Yet Regina isn't all evil and has been known to do some really good and selfless things. Snow has made mistakes. Emma flat out admits she'll never be as goody goody nice as her parents and is willing to make tough choices if she has to.

While it's easy to judge and say this is 'good' and this is 'bad', there's a giant gaping wound of gray area where things aren't either. Is it wrong to steal if you're feeding your starving child? Is it wrong to kill if you're a soldier? Is it right to sacrifice if there are people who depend on you and you're letting them down?

This show revels in the gray area, riffing off it right and left, leaving the viewer to decide who is 'good', 'bad', and who just got the short end of the stick. In real life? We do that every day, whether we realize we're deciding or not.

2. You can't run from your problems.

You can cast a curse and remove all magic. You can go for revenge. You can run away. You can move away and start a new life...

Your problems will catch up with you. Always. Better to slog through dealing with them than chase the idea that there is a magical getaway from the reality of them.

1. There is no such thing as a 'happy ending.'

There's no 'ending' other than death. Happiness is fleeting, so you're better off stringing together as many happy moments and surrounding yourself with people you love so that when the storms do hit, you're in good company than trying to pretend you can find that mythical playground where bills don't suck, people don't get sick, no one hurts or is sad.

It's the company that makes the storms more fun and sometimes allows you to dance in the rain.

Happy writing!!