Second Guessing and Self Doubt

 Overcoming Second Guessing and Self-Doubt

I’ve always said you know you’re on the right track when the Evil One works hard to mess with you.

In early January I sent a manuscript to a publishing house I respect. I started in on another story while I prayed and waited to hear if they accepted my book.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. 

I didn’t expect an answer right away, but there was always a part inside of me hoping to see something from the publisher every time I opened my email. It’s the way of things. 

February came. February, even in Florida has a gloom to it. I started second guessing myself and my ability to craft another novel. I submitted a couple of short stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul and a children’s story to Clubhouse Magazine. 

Now I was waiting for more than one publisher to respond. I was waiting for a response on the book, two true stories, and a fiction piece for children. I wasn’t hearing anything from anybody. Midway through February I started second guessing my ability to write anything at all. 

Second guessing yourself is, I believe, a tool the Evil One uses to frustrate or upset us. He hopes we will get off track and give up hope. He’s crafty that way. 

I was tempted to give in to his trickery but decided to keep writing and submitting and doing my best anyway. I had started a sweet romance series a few years ago, so I picked it up and started work again on the trilogy. 

Book one was complete. I finished book two and started book three. A few questions in book three caused me to go back to book one and make a revision so it all made sense. That made me recheck book two and…so it went. I was writing in circles. I even had to redraw a map of the town where this all takes place so I could make sure my characters didn’t go down the wrong street!

I was working at my craft and the feeling of doing what I was meant to do was returning. I pushed aside the fears and self-doubt. I love it when I find that sweet spot. I write with confidence, knowing I have something to say yet knowing also, revision is my friend, not my enemy. 

Then, last Saturday, March 7, I opened my email. The publishing house has accepted my novel! I squealed out loud! I felt like I’d punched the Evil One in the nose…And it felt so-o-o good!

Do you have a dream? Stay the course.

 

Green Thumb

 Can You Inherit a “Green Thumb?”

My grandmother had a green thumb. She could grow anything. My mother has always been able to grow beautiful flowers and colorful vegetables. 

My oldest daughter is like that. Allison can start a plant with a seed or broken stem or bit of root. I’m not kidding. She can grow anything and has a houseful of plants to prove it.

The bulk of that innate ability to grow anything and everything obviously skipped a generation. Mine. 

I am not a “plant whisperer” like my daughter or grandmother. I generally require seeds and directions. I’ve planted many a garden and grown vegetables for my family. I’ve managed to do well with outdoor plants. 

Particularly those that live on neglect.

I surprised myself when I saw a beautiful shrub outside a hotel in Kissimmee, Florida. I told Mike I wanted to grow one like it even as I pinched off a sprig of the greenery. 

I wrapped it in a damp napkin and we headed home.

Back at the house, I found a jar, created a “holder” for the sprig from a piece of cardstock, and set my little plant-to-be on a table on our back porch. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Did I mention I waited?

Yep, more waiting.

And then? 

I started seeing some little nubs of roots starting to form. I made sure I kept water in the jar. 

And now? Now, seven months later, the plant’s roots are developing nicely. I’m ready to put my little plant in some potting soil. 

It’ll still need some tender loving care for a bit, but one day, I’m hopeful a beautiful shrub will grow in our flowerbed. I may have a touch of that green thumb after all.

We’ll see. One down. A thousand to go.

But like I always told my students as I sent them out to recess, "Everything needs dirt, water, and sunshine to grow."

 

Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

 Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

Me. Well, not me exactly. 

My name is Rebecca. One boy in high school called me Sunnybrook. It was my nickname for a while. And back in the seventies when CB radios were all the rage, my “handle” was Sunnybrook. 

Though I never read the novel Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin until recently, I remember seeing the old black and white movie starring Shirley Temple on television.  

Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm was spunky, caring, smart, and above all, positive. I’ll take that.

This week, my sister-in-law happened on a 1960 edition of the novel in a thrift store. (The original was released in 1903) She bought it and gifted it to me, knowing my love of literature and the fact my name is Rebecca. 

And maybe a bit because I tend to be bent on the side of “positive” in nature. 

Whatever her thinking, I treasure the gift. I started reading the story right away. Carefully, as the book is somewhat fragile.

Though the writing style differs greatly from what we expect today, the story resonates with readers across time and circumstance. It has all the elements we crave in a story: 

·      A character with whom we can identify is in a tough situation. 

·      We trust she will overcome because of her positive attitude and good nature.

·      Change. Our character grows and so do the people around her. And as readers, we grow, too. 

What book/story influenced you? Have you ever read something that caused you to change your perspective or gave you courage to try something new? 

I'm serious. I want to know.

 

He Said, She Shed

 He Said, She Shed

            I enjoy…well, everything. I like to travel. I like new experiences. I like outdoor activities like boating and fishing and golf. I also enjoy reading, writing, family gatherings, cooking, friends, and...well you get the idea. There are few things I don’t like or aren’t at least willing to try. 

            I enjoy creating. It shows up in my writing and cooking. But it also shows up in my pursuit of crafts and artistic endeavors. The only problem with my arts and crafts is that, quite frankly, I’m messy. Seriously messy.

Mike and I put an offer on the house where we now live before our wedding while I was still living in Ohio. He had seen it and our realtor took me on a video tour. We were getting married in April and would close on the house May. 

Mike told me everything about our new place; the lake, the yard, the community, and the outbuildings, including the fact it had a “She Shed”. I studied the pictures on the listing. We knew the house itself would need some renovations to meet our needs. We made a plan. We married in April and headed to Florida. We hadn’t closed on the house yet, so we knew we would live in Mike’s house near Tampa until then.

Moving Mike’s furniture and adding a few furnishings of our own was the first order of business after we got the keys to our new place. We lived in the space a bit while we decided what we needed to do to make it “ours”. Renovations were next. 

We used every available nook and cranny to move our personal things out of the way while the remodel took place. The refrigerator made it to the porch as did the dishes and cookware. We have a two-car garage and an attic. That helped some. We put a few things in Mike’s shop and some stuff landed in the yet-to-be used outdoor shed.

The folks who lived here before us are the ones who identified it as a She Shed. For us it was a much- needed storage shed. For a while. This past year, Mike started going through the things stored there. When we went to Ohio, I brought some of my art and craft supplies home with me. 

We swept, cleaned, and moved things around in the She Shed. There is a workbench there. And there’s a heater/air conditioner. I pulled a stool from our porch to use and hauled my canvases, paints, woodcarving tools, and craft supplies inside. 

I’m still in the throes of figuring out all I need to keep it clean and orderly, but it’s getting there. The thing is, I know it won’t stay that way. As I said, I’m a pretty messy crafter. And my paintings? I tend to get more paint on me than I do the canvas. But I love the process. 

I’m pretty excited. I love the idea of “creating” without having to clear the dining room table so we can eat. And then, to make it a “real” She Shed, my oldest daughter found a great sign for the outside. Mike put it up for me. Right now? I’m a pretty happy camper…or in this case, she-shedder. 

 

My Husband, My Valentine

My Husband, My Valentine

If you happen to see my husband, Mike, out and about this month, you can wish him a happy birthday. He’s not one to celebrate, but I am. Here’s what I celebrate:

·      A man who puts others above himself

·      A man who loves family (his and mine)

·      A man who supports my interests and my writing

·      A man who is loyal to his friends

·      A man who respects others, regardless of age or gender or background

·      A man worthy of respect, and therefore a good leader

·      A man with a great (though sometimes warped) sense of humor who keeps me laughing

·      A man who can laugh at himself as well

·      A man who does the laundry (seriously)

·      A man who eats anything I cook and appreciates it

·      A man who can deep fry a succulent turkey

·      A man with an adventurous heart

·      A man who “knows stuff” but is willing to listen and learn from others

·      A man who still opens the car door for me

·      A man with me in church every Sunday 

·      A man who enjoys us “doing life together” as much as I do.

Happy Birthday, Mike! Happy Valentine's Day!

And many, many more of both!

Winter Wonderland

 Winter …Wonderland?

One of the great benefits of living in Florida is there is no snow to shovel. Well, at least not where we live or in the southern parts of the state. None we’ve seen at least. Not yet. Though it would not be unprecedented.

I remember in January of 1977 when Tampa received what proved to be a significant snowfall. It wasn’t significant in terms of inches as it is measured in the north. It was significant in that the snow was just enough to create wonder among Floridians who had never seen the white stuff and wreak havoc on the interstate. 

The snow in 1977 stretched as far as Homestead with a few flurries making their way into Miami. 

This past weekend we experienced temperatures cold enough to act as a deep freeze. Actually, that is according to my "feels like” temperature. That and the fact that our neighbor’s garden hose froze. We also learned other people in the county had pipes freezing. We were blessed our pipes and hoses appear to have “weathered” the drop in temperature.

Not snow. A reflection of clouds
in the Water

When I lived in Ohio, I saw the snow as nature’s way to blanket the land. I grew up with a strong farm connection on both sides of my family. That blanket of the white stuff signaled to me a time of rest for the earth. 

Then again, I didn’t have to travel in it. I’m pretty sure those who had to shovel their driveways and slide to work did not view it as a blanket. 

I digress. Mike and I live in Florida now. Below freezing temperatures are, in many ways, worse for us here. 

For one thing, we are not what I would call “prepared.” We have coats and jackets. We have furnaces in our house and food in our pantry. But not everything we own is built for winter weather. 

For example, my husband’s truck did not sound right when we were in Ohio during a cold spell. When I say cold…it was fourteen degrees. Mike took it to the dealership. The truck did not have a Block Heater. “Yours is a Southern truck,” he was told. “Meant to drive in the south.”

My view on that is simple. Trucks were meant to drive, period. And since the interstate goes north, a block heater should not be an option. It should be a requirement. It is cold in the south right now. I’m glad he had the block heater installed.

It is very cold. We have a bowl of water on the lanai for our cat, Tiki, when she ventures out. We had to crack a thin layer of ice on it so our sweet little girl could get a drink if she dared to leave the house. 

But now, the sun is shining, the moss is gently blowing in the trees. As I write this, our temperatures aren’t freezing, but certainly lower than normal. We’ll likely have chili dogs or chili and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Our electricity is on and we have a gas stove if we should lose power. 

The wind is blowing and it's chilly!

Winter can be a harsh month for many, but still, as I look out the window at the sun shimmering on the lake and warming the deck, I can’t help but feel a subtle warming of the soul and gentling of the spirit. 

Wherever you are as you read this, stay safe. Stay warm. Cuddle up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate. 

And remember…Spring is on the way.

Gone Fishin'

 

GONE FISHIN'

NOTE: My apologies to my friends and family living up north in the snow and cold. I wrote this blog a couple of weeks ago before the weather turned so rough! If it helps, we're having some cold weather here as well. But maybe reading this week's post will offer you all hope for a brighter and warmer tomorrow... 

Gone Fishin’ Part I

As a child, I lived on my grandparent’s farm. We had a pond. Fishing in that pond with my dad is my earliest memory of fishing. 

I learned how to bait my hook with a squiggly worm, toss the line in the water, and wait quietly for a fish to take the bait. 

Well, I was supposed to wait quietly, but that turned out to be the hardest part of the process.

We caught bluegill and sunfish in that pond. My dad may have hooked a bass or two, but bluegill and sunfish were my specialty. Mom cooked some of them. The flavor was great but I’d heard scary stories of fishbones getting stuck in your throat. That was not good.

My favorite fishing story from that farm, however, happened while I lived in Florida as a teenager. I was in high school when my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. The dreaded disease and the treatments he endured weakened him. 

The treatments were tough. Grandma did everything she could to take care of Grandpa. It was a challenge. He had trouble keeping food down. 

One day, he made the comment he would sure like some fresh fish. Grandma didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her hat and her fishing pole and headed out to the pond. She caught fish for grandpa, cleaned them, and cooked them just the way he liked them. 

But the invasive cancer and the treatment for it robbed him of his tastebuds. He couldn’t eat it.

Gone Fishin’ Part II

When Mike and I married, I was living in a house built on that same farm in Ohio. My grandparents’ farmhouse, barns, buildings, and fields had been replaced with a brick and mortar subdivision. The pond was no longer there. 

Our Lake

Mike and I bought a home on a lake in Florida. A place we could call our own. Before the wedding, Mike called me one day to tell me the rods and reels he’d ordered for me arrived. He bought me Zebco reels. Good choice. I had learned to use a Zebco reel when I lived in Florida those many years ago.

Our wedding in Ohio was exactly what we wanted. The next day, we headed to Florida, anxious to move into our new home. We hadn’t been here long when I stood on our dock and threw my line in the water. I caught my first bass from our lake. Now, that was fun. 

Though the bass was huge in my estimation, it was too small to keep and clean. Still, I got a picture with it, holding it out as some fishermen do in front of me to make it look a bit bigger than it really was. 

My First Catch

But now? Recently, my fisherman husband surprised me with new rods and reels. Real ones. Two bait casting reels and two “guaranteed for life” rods. (I wonder why I need that sort of guarantee, but I’m afraid to ask.) 

Anyway, I had my first lesson a few days ago on a sunny January day. We took the boat out across the lake where I would learn to cast my line. 

I don’t actually throw it out, uh…cast it... quite as far as I do in my mind, but I’m getting there. I learned a few lessons about backlash and I didn’t catch any fish. 

Still, it was a beautiful, sunny day on the lake with my husband. We saw some amazing birds, an otter, and very few humans.

I’ve come to believe this is the real secret of fishing. Not catching fish…It's catching a few of the suns rays, catching up on quiet time with someone you love, and catching a glimpse of the ebb and flow of God’s creation.

So, here’s the challenge… Create a little quiet time for yourself. Sometime this week, hang a sign on your door or your Facebook page that says, “Gone Fishin.”

Then...enjoy a day with someone you love.