I am realized … the ecstatic culmination of a 2-star rating

It really is a sad situation when your blog has been so long ignored you fear remembering its password. First, I’d like to apologize to my deserted page with its catchy name and fun posts reaching out to other writers in similar situational star-rocketing highs and equally plummeting despairs.

(remember, I post daily @ sunshinesent.com)

Without further ado let me ‘slash’ this month of February 2019 @ Insecure Writers Support Group up, writing 4 the first time this year and posting ON time, because I know the 200 other monthly contributors have missed me.

(I’ve missed you too. It’s true, I do! I do, silly, I do.)

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Bringing me out of hibernation would be attributed to the quarterly rounds I make to my KU page, pathetic…I hear you…kindly say nothing, where ecstatically and solemnly, I discovered attaining the highest of writer rankings with a well thought and non-stellar rating by a consumer.

Ecstatic…because I felt realized, proud to wear the badge of the misunderstood.

Solemn... upon realization 1.5 of those stars were lost due to no fault of my own and remedied by re-printing, naggy binding glue & such. The other star and a half, accepting equal blame, discounted due to my perpetuating cheesy prose and writing nonesense, contributor spelling. (Spell-checker, ugly red underscore, sincerely, quit yelling at me.)

I’m not posting to whimper about the public berating, but to pose a question? One we’ve heard throughout our writing careers freshly born or exaggerated. If you haven’t been privy to this blight of wisdom then mission, I mean, listen…very carefully.

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*Should we publish before we are ready just because we can?

Who/what is our determiner? Would you really hear over the excitement to push enter?

My next query…

*Should we UN-publish thus we’ve previously published poorly? 

Because now we know better, one, ten, thirty-nine years later? or do a full rework?

As you’ve known me, I’m the girl who gets over-excited and jumps in both feet first. Perhaps, I flip over and end up looking like a goose/duck’s hiney, but effort and stamina should be considered, right? (Not drowning, I assure you.)

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The work I published is not a novel, merely a collection of stanzas and deliberated art from Send Sunshine. As the years have progressed my posts and artwork have developed. Each piece dutifully agonized over with a disgustingly palpable amount of thought, energy, and love.

*Does that mean we should bury our beginnings underground or venture forward w/ extreme caution? 

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The craft of writing is selective, individual, eclectic in the way each author chooses its presentation. An understanding maybe other artists recognize and give credit or leave, while the general population…not really so much. Though for an accurate translation it is, our, or in this case, my, full responsibility to relay.

In hindsight, did I say that? I did, lol…I believe re-addressing my back cover is in tall order, detailing the purpose of my blog and brand Send Sunshine for a detailed understanding of their purchase.

Re-imagined digital photography with heartfelt quotesSend Sunshine is a lifestyle dedicated to positive affirmations, self-empowerment and the promotion of spreading kindness.

What about those novels? I’ll tell you this…whoever said it takes thousands of writing hours before you write well is 100% correct. I feel closer than I ‘ve ever been before. Last years project is near its second draft completion. Titillating. Every other story is still knocking around my brain. So many stories, so little time.

Regardless…Write On! ❤ Jess

 

PS…here is the posse of peoples you’ve been searching for, thank you IWSG!

PSS…if you take direction they actually give you a monthly writing prompt…sorry team.

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#TheEnd

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Gosh, itching to insert Napolean Dynomite meme, what does that mean to you? A frightening thought for writers or beyond.

For this, the first week in July of 2018, The Insecure Writer’s Group posted on the glorious day of Tuesday, the 3rd…I, however, am posting on the enigmatic, as the enigma I am, day of Friday the 6th which means in seven more days Friday the 13th, and Jason, shall arrive… & precisely 6 days after, as in the 6th, turns into Thursday the 19th of July where a very cool writerly opportunity shall be hitting the #twitter #feeds. Yes, #BigBrother will also be holding eviction that night.

But, #Writers #Authors #Wordsmithy #Friends this could be an #AmazeBalls #Opportunity for #pitching that #manuscript! (2 #agents, NOT out the door, into the fire or even against your siblings head…) Just make sure it’s ready & varnished to a high-level spit-shined gleam that would make your Nana proud. Your elbow should be aching if, in all honesty, you’re ready. Joke, I do not.

Click here for more information. Thank you Insecure Writers Support Group!

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Will I attend said event, “Oh’ hell no.” Not this year…I have attended #PitMad, a quarterly event, once before & my claim to fame came in a full #MS request, but alas, I sucked and rightly ’twas my 1st completed work lacking due diligence as an understudy should devote and fell full frontal. I’ve learned to suck-up said suckiness with a smile and thankfully my teeth still intact. All I’d genuinely accomplished, at that point, was proving to myself I could pen those magical two words #TheEnd and since then I’ve done so three more times, each with a little more flair than the last.

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Blogging it out…bullying, what are we really teaching our children?

*Please note, since writing this the school is in the process of issuing a formal apology to the young man involved and the children are writing sorry notes. My first instinct was to decline, but this issue is one to be remembered and I believe their fresh approach immensely wise.*

Because of the seriousness of this article, I am posting it as my monthly addition to the Insecure Writers’ Group

Dear Parents,

Your accounts and accolades of our youth on social media can only make them picture perfect. And what an unrealistic example or achievement is this in turn for our children to even fathom they have a chance of living up to. We teach these beautiful souls how to treat themselves and others. The excuse, excuse, of recounting children being children when misbehaving is a direct reflection of taking ZERO accountability in our role of educating them.

#WeAreTheDifference #StopBullying #SpeakOut #AllLivesMatter

 

1st I’d like to say my heart bleeds as I write this. Every day, everywhere this occurs to all-time severities in which we’d rather bury our heads. WE as human beings owe it to each other to care about one another, a responsibility beyond being selfish, how what WE say or how WE act effects those around us, especially when it comes to our youth.

My child, your child, our children can all wear this ugly cap named-

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these things I do

Welcome to Thursday, June 8th, 2017 the day AFTER June 7th, 2017, the 1st Wednesday of the month and the official day of IWSG.

( Déjà vu…I feel as though I’ve been here before, many times, many, many times. 😦 )

It’s a very real possibility my membership has been dissolved, being tardy for the party and all.

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Which is exactly why I am the perfect member for The Insecure Writers Support Group.

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Happy September 7th, 2016

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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.

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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.

No excuse style!

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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But the message finally came in loud & clear.

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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.

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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

#IWSG #Writers&RoadRage

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The time has dawned upon us when we reach out to one another, desperately grappling to grab the lifeline offered by an individual who feels such as we. Shall I say it out loud? Insecure. Hence our writer’s group.

The build up is always so much better. Laughing out Loud, felt like writing the whole thing out there. It is quite possible I spend too much time alone in my cute little office-like roomy-thing.

So mid-week is here and a tough one for my favorite friend. I love her our little Sandi of American Writer’s Exposed. And today I wish to bring her a smile, through the expense of my abhorrent ridiculousness.

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Fourth of July always brings with it a tremendous amount of traffic to the coastal villa where we both live. I am talking about gridlock in an unsuspecting town of two thousand full-time residents, okay there is eight thousand, but we behave like two. Traveling the full-length from the north-end of the city to the south is already a pain in the derriere not to mention when added vehicles crowd her highway. This tarmac panics, freezing under the pressure.

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We are talking total shut down. Local yolk-hols usually stay home if they can help it, so traveling can be hashed out by the visiting populace. We watch our fireworks on the nightly news or over the beautiful lake not many visitors know about yet. But there are some who live right next to the bay where all three million congregate.

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The things I think about as I am stuck in traffic are probably more similar to my writer peeps. In my mind, I finish dangling chapters, work on new scenes, fall in love with new characters, talk it all out loud. No one has to be in the car. Easily I can be swayed into new book hooks and future projects to work on.

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There is one thing that baffles me while I try to sound out the vanity plate ahead of me, another past-time in which I more often than not fail…if it can’t be spelled or rolls off one’s tongue it makes no sense. Not to the other half-trillion of us behind you.

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Bikers. They baffle me. This breed has no rules when it comes to the road. They are a mysterious conundrum all black leather and bad, leaning back on their chaise lounges skirting between cars while trimming their toenails. These outlaws sport ponytails or pleasure cabs and have a secret code that us drivers lack.

The two fingered flag pointed in a perfected angle toward the ground. Yes, there is proper waving etiquette. Why is it when they pass each other heading down the opposite six lanes do they get to wave? And not the one with a middle finger, like us? It matters not what type of bike they sit astride.

I think the gang must laugh at us in our sweltering vans, three car seats stuffed in the back while running out of gas. Ahh…to be a biker and not the one with the four-foot flag.

But comradery…that is a grand thought.

So my writing community what do you think? How can we distinguish each other in the middle of gridlock?

TO BE CONTINUED…

Write On! ❤ Jessica

Psst…I am waiting. I’m serious here people what can our driver type thing be?