I hope you’ll enjoy this! #ThankYou #Always #Quotes https://www.amazon.com/Send-Sunshine-Dreams-Laughter-Forward-ebook/dp/B071JZBD52 #new
Artists
Okay its MEME time
“Confessions Of a Retail Whore”
Jess E remains anonymous to protect their identity and “tell it like it is!” I laughed out loud as did my husband.
Some of you might recognize yourself in customer interactions, Oops. If you are demanding of perfection from sellers or service providers, it might not be as pleasant to read as it will be for the rest of us who have walked in Jess E’s shoes.
Putting the shoe on the other foot might do you, your son, your daughter, your spouse a lesson in how to treat others. I wished I had had this booklet lying around when I was still working. Super gift for the lunchroom!
Check it out on Amazon.
A blurb from a reader!
Write On! ❤ Jesse
Death 2 a “Pantser”
Woe to thee, mine heart, mine breath, all known to me as whimsy and flair.
I hear you speak in words yet to be spoken, I see you clear.
Vision is fancy, a perilous play to the sanity of one.
Infected is this mind, fool—perhaps, is what I have become.
Victim, I refuse to fall.
I choose your light to flow from mine hand and gasp life as you have asked me to pen.
Survive—my dearest of friends, for expression has meaning.
Your story deserves to be written down.
CUE-MICHAEL SEMBELLO “MANIAC.”
Now that I have my ‘purply-ness’ out of the way, I welcome you once again to Thursday, the day after the proposed marked posting for IWSG, but none-the-less an entry in a just cause we writer types should acknowledge.
Thank You, Mr. Cavanaugh, and I bid you, yet, another, pardon for my tardiness. Friends, colleagues, individuals known as my peers, I present to you the label me NOT post.
In the beginning, I understood writers were categorized into 2 groups-“Pantser or Planner.” You were one or the other—you could not be both. So I fell for it.
-CLARIFICATION-
Let us define “Pantser” straight from the valuable archives of the Urban Dictionary…
A NaNoWriMo term that means that you ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ when you are writing your novel. You have nothing but the absolute basics planned out for your novel.
This outlook towards writing is often opposed by the ‘planner,’ who knows exactly what is going to happen when it will happen, and where it will happen. There is often enmity between the two types of writers.
Another pantser?! Seriously, GTFO.
Truly their words-I am less inclined to believe it comes directly from NaNoWriMo..but who am I? My understanding is that even the basics need not be planned. The specifics flow their blue+red=purple path as each sentence is written. Everything naturally falls into place, and you’re tasked with the minimal effort of showing up.
We will then turn to their term of “Planner.”
An underpaid, overworked employee that takes endless shit and abuse, while trying to organize work for thankless assholes that don’t want to do the work in the first place.
(Okay, that did not turn out so well but I found it hugely entertaining. Dear Urban Dictionary, you slay me.)
We could try the other famous terminology of “Plotter.”
A person who plots.
A person who plots on a regular basis.
A person who has indeed plotted before.
A person who is currently plotting.
Now we are getting a little closer.
#WTF am I talking about? Let me not digress, I believed I was a “Pantser,” and at the time the thought was liberating. I belonged to TYPE 1 or TYPE 2 of writing academia.
Reality-
I was a fish out of water in the endless sea of my scribbles
Word vomit, my chosen mastered skill. After all, I have no problems sitting down and typing the whole of the live-long day. These voices inside keep me well entertained, and a gazillion thoughts and storylines fill me. I write well and say nothing at the same time.
Cue “Taps.”
Advice often speaks that writing takes years to develop, the understanding of craft, your individual voice, definition. I have 4 works finished, but not finished. And one day something resonated—zapping my staggering mass, “Aha!”
Cue prayers for this person. (not literally me)
We have to be neither. All is for not if we don’t have THE master plan, and not the one we originally imagined, but a working, real, tangible guide that will guarantee results if indeed this is what we are after.
Hello, my friend Mr. Larry Brooks and his friend Mr. Art Holcomb. You both may have just saved my writing life. No longer shall I make more difficult what is already half way there. Thank you for this post. (Every writer MUST read, honestly, the ultimate in time well spent.)
When I see you in Starbucks I look forward to giving you my answer.
“The Tragedy I See At Starbucks Every Day” – a new post by Art Holcomb
And I Write On-<3 Jess
PS…have I ever mentioned I would find great satisfaction in being re-blogged by Chris the story reading ape? (A 2017 resolution of mine) Another great writer’s resource blog!
Happy September 7th, 2016
On this first Wednesday of the month! Thank you, guru, Alex Cavanaugh!
This day commiserates a multitude of milestones for me. Two years ago, almost to the day, I left my career to settle into a brutally agonizing field called writing. A satisfying and desolate place where I have met my dearest friends, you!
First, I would like to apologize for missing last month’s post.
What was it that kept me away? Of course, I’m going to tell you. I signed up for a writing class called publish your non-fiction e-book in 10 days. The no shits and giggles guide to get off your ass and get a writing project done.
With a brilliant writing coach, named Jennifer Blanchard, who proves in a systematic method the process of writing, editing and publishing such a UMC, unidentified-mysterious-creature, otherwise known as a finished book, most assuredly can be completed and done so, satisfactory.
The experience was fantastic. Yet, with every writer high, occasionally, (for me-always,) comes a rock-bottom low. And while I lay wallowing in the depths of my self-imposed mire, a needed realization finally hit home. A projection that before was only half tapped.
I always believed if I was a good person people would be good to me, the reality, not so much. I always believed if I were truthful, kind and sincere the inhabitants of the human world would do so likewise, pretty major disappointment. If I showed support, I would receive support. If I left feedback, I would get feedback. If I smiled, the gesture would be returned. I always believed that what I gave in this lifetime I would get back, tenfold would be an even worse joke. I promise you I did not go that far.
Instead, this mindset was a major posit for failure. When the world would crash the dejection became internalized and the belief turned into it must be me. If you, too, are an alien being, you don’t know how to take a compliment when one is graciously given, closing yourself off. In steeling myself from repeated pains, the stone wall I erected truthfully kept me from receiving, anything, including everything satisfactory and good.
This horrible addiction and repeated habit took Sandi several years to break me. The simple act of crossing my arms deflected any kind words given or shown toward me as though I was undeserving. But there is more, the pattern of negative self-abuse prevents you from your given gifts of abundance that life waits to bestow upon you.
I always knew I had a devastating level of high expectations. One by one I learned to let a few of them go. Expectations must fully be replaced with intention. By doing this, the manifestation is yours alone and not one outside force can interfere with the mindset you have set forth. I knew I was getting close, but this hurdle I had yet to knock over.
A realm where one cannot jump into half-cocked. Positive was who I have always been, there were no problems there. But accepting that I deserved abundance was another thing, freeing my mind of what I once believed would set this forward motion and intent free.
The act of completing a project within a confined time frame leaves no room for those self-doubting negative monsters from the otherworld to play with your gullible hide. You just do and while you feel the fangs of frustration breathing on your neck you continue and before you realize the end goal is done and you can exhale.
I fooled me into thinking that because I was working with like-agenda creatures we would all be supporting each other in a similar fashion. Full throttle forward and bestowing handshakes, five-star reviews, and praise. You tell me the outcome? Another crushing let-down. Why? Again, I placed MY reward into someone else’s hands. A very dangerous thing.
But the message finally came in loud & clear.
I have always known there is a higher purpose for me. I am not going away. I will work in a constant fashion to be better than the day before. Guidance, knowledge, health, wealth and happiness will come naturally. (Again able-minded, willing to see our individual accountabilities and open our western minds to receive.)
I am there and ready to fully absorb this abundance that solely belongs to me. The difference now and the most beautiful thing is-I care, you matter, and, I have a need to share. I refuse to die until I have done something for humanity.
My deceased father’s birthday gift, today, his day, now in his honor has become mine.
Write on! ❤ Jessica
P.S-If you’d like a peak into the life of a gender X click here
P.S.S-If you’re open-minded and would like a true-life look into retail listen here
Humility … Now that is a Good Look #AmWriting
I have joined a new group, yes, another, but this time, listen to their name … Insecure Writers Support Group … the IWSG now these peeps have got it going on.
http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html
This everlasting quest of mine to become better, to write clearer, to bring my stories to life, has brought me to toil away long hours and as such I can say I am over advice from other, would be, wannabes. (well maybe not everyone) While I have gluttonously devoured as many words and articles as I have caffeine and crumb cake, now, I lay back numb.
Unless you can offer up your degree on semantics, literature or your bank statement with quarterly infusions of royalties, I must digress. I do this for sanity, because as I see you, I am in truth looking back at me, but this ego of yours has gotten in the way.
And at one time I saw you as …
Huzza!
#Strangebird
This world is full of critiquers, category placers, and judgment callers. I am quite active through my blog at Send Sunshine. I cannot tell you how many times I go to the comment section of another blogger, type a lengthy reply and then proceed to delete it.
I would imagine it has to do with the innocent comment I made on the touchy subject of weight. (Keep in mind I have always been a healthy (code word for plump girl.) It was a joke, I assure you, to lighten the mood, but it did not go over well, and I stopped, dropped and rolled like a champion running for cover.
Trying to survive in the land of literary art is a quagmire of love, a tangled devotion, a lifestyle you must dedicate yourself to whole and heartily. You must show up. Be involved in the relationship of crafting everyday words and engage. I give applause to everyone who has stripped naked and stepped out on this pedestal, however written, in front of an endless sea of such assessment.
So what is this babbling word jumble? Well, if you have a moment. Let me tell you…
A blog I frequent recently posted the title “What type of blogger are you?” I read the whole post and all the comments. And I stopped short, each category had different descriptions, etc., but the article was far from complimentary. The negative connotation in each category made my belly roll. As did the reply to a comment, “Let me read your blog, and I will tell you what type of blogger you are.”
Screeching brakes are sounding in the background. Really? No thanks. We don’t need this type of insight. Herein lies my pet peeve in almost all of life.
Do we need another person to define who we are? Do they truly think they know us better than ourselves? I truly dislike it when someone tries to tell me how I’m feeling. Stop. I can tell you what mood I am in. Although my fingers work better than my mouth, I do know how to speak quite fluently. Unless requested, I’m good.
If you are writing a novel, it is imperative that you know for a fact what genre you are not only writing but the audience you are relating. And there is so much advice out there – from great sources — to not-so-great. Many of us are not salaried bloggers, and blogging is an expression, a platform and need not be defined by a fellow peer who feels they are an authority. On what, being condescending? #saveitkindly4yourprofessionallife
I used to laugh out loud when one of my children’s friends would holler good-natured, “You don’t know me. You haven’t lived my life.” I still giggle thinking of the dramatic monologue.
I believe this stems from my general outrage that we as individuals can be so cruel in our characterization of each other. My hair is blonde. I am a female. I am not dumb. But this is what society would feed us, to internalize. Who does this help?
#bemore #celebratelife #beyourownindividual #embraceyou #lovethyneighbor&thylife #weRof1race
Hey bloggers, Write On! Use your artistic license to create you.
There is no need to be placed into a slot of classification or categorization. There are no labels to describe the amazing, distinctive, beautifully unique, thriving, energetic and creative people we are.
#sendsunshine #sunshinesent
I guess I am happily a #strangebird
365.24 Days of Living Selfishly
It is true. For the past 12 months, I have dedicated almost every single day to follow my individual pursuits. I have finished another manuscript while redrafting my first. I have lived from great highs to deep lows in encouragements and frustrations. My steadfast team has held my hand, pushed me forward, relished in my accomplishments, and attempted to wipe away my blubbers of disappointment. I have been lifted up and let down. I have won as I have lost and for the first time in – ever, I speak in first person.
My life as a dreamer has earned me less than I have made since I was 13 years old. But I did get paid and that, in itself, was a moment of triumph. Not as a novelist, per se, but in copy editing and that is okay.
So what is it I have learned to pass on to others who dream of this fantasy that does not leave us, penning words of whimsy or knowledge?
If it is your passion, do it, whether it is in the dark or on the back of an envelope. If you have five minutes or five hours, it is all the same. Thoughts overflow and find their way to a page, a habit we cannot quit. Allow this voice to find you and guide you. Do not question ‘the Rules’ or allow well-placed advice to deviate you from your course.
Just Write. That is what makes us a…writer.
More time leads us to more self-pressure, self-doubt, and self-deprecation. And everything hinges on the same word, you.
At my 2nd writer’s conference, the question was asked, “What is it that keeps you from writing?” And 90% of the room raised their hands to answer, “Time.” Last year, this was my answer, too. Today my response is, “ME.” While I have found my individual freedom to speak, I have also found a plethora of excuses or outside intrusions limiting me from my potential.
“You are living your dream.” A statement from one of my very best friends. He is right. When dubiety and disappointment flood my brain, I remind myself, hearing him speak. The strong voice of one who does not write but knows me for the person I am. It matters not if I am a Plotter or a Pantser, an Amateur or Accredited, I am a writer, and I will forever tell stories as I see them told.
As Always, WRITE On! ❤ Jessica
Inner Peace = Total Self Control
i Likey You A lot …
I am not sure what all the fuss is about –the BIG controversy over real likes or RE-follows. May I take the stand that isn’t life complicated enough? Can we not relax and appreciate what it is we are given no matter the cause or form?
We are not transgression voyeurs who can travel into another’s reason or mindset or livelihoods.
The one disturbance in life universally agreed upon is time is fleeting, the day vanishes and there are still a million different tasks needing our attention. Writers experience this in great degrees and for myself my eyes cannot remain open longer than the toll of the midnight bell.
Bloggers/Artists are a finicky breed, brilliant minds and characters of their own. In reading several blogs over the past week, I have come across authors who are now lashing out against those who may follow other blogs in the hopes of a re-follow. Upset that a follower may like a post without investing in every written word and leaving a lengthy comment.
Is this not counter-productive?
Personally, my daily routines have to be kept on a strict regimen. The production of my works in progress is my priority, but my social interaction, albeit one I enjoy thoroughly is on an hourly timer. Time put into another blogger’s post is duly recognized. I equally reach out to as many as I can in a given day. And I am not dismissing any one particular writing over another.
I deeply appreciate each and every follower, comment, liker. (Hence my love for your Gravatar – wink, wink)
Take no disrespect, let this nagging monster go. What does it hurt us in the end if a person who appreciates the time we have spent just getting our work out there can only hit the like button and not spend another few minutes with a reply? (It is possible they are accessing WordPress over a touchy cellular device or a million other reasons)
A like is a like; a smile for our day, an appreciation of what we have posted.
Not hitting the happy star of love can easily be skipped over, so ingest this personal imprint of another artist’s energy as kudos of support in a world with too many expectations. For many of us the task of being seen has been the biggest obstacle in our own personal struggles to move forward in a media-based society.
I say bravo to every beautiful soul who has taken this bottomless step, the plunge, into a journey of individual growth or movement in a literary/artists career. Let that ego monster stay in its cage of shallow judgments and just be thankful.
Write on! ❤ Jessica
American Writers Exposed 
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