Tag Archive | inspiration

From Self-Loathing to Self-Love

WomanHuggingHerself

She often speaks of love
But what of the ador
She owes her own
Seasoned body and soul
The extraordinary simplicity
Of a moment
When conceding to her age
Becomes a gift and not a crime
When clock-stopping
Loses its baby-soft appeal
When big browns snagging
On those department store panes
Fail to spur misadventures
In self-upgrading
When ‘girl’ rings true
To a past she outgrew
And the woman at hand
Is the queen who shines
Despite abs that no longer behave
In a concave way
Her wash-n-go coif
And Mom Squad garb
Agreeable garnishes
To a half-century (just two years shy)
Worn under her eyes
Like a badge of honor
Because this is a life
She has truly lived

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: unsplash.com – Daria Nepriakhina, photographer

 

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Back From Hiatus: What I’ve Learned

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I can’t believe 2017 is already nearing the finish line. Soon, bubbly-fueled, pitchy renditions of Auld Lang Syne will fill the air, and I’ll feign familiarity with the lyrics by humming and grunting the melody with my family and friends, poised to hit the ground running in 2018.

Actually, I’m already itching to get this show on the road. After taking a multi-month respite from social media, I feel refreshed and focused with a close-to-crystal vision of where I’m headed and how I’m aiming to get there.

Going off-grid wasn’t something I initially had any intention of sticking out for more than a spell. I simply wanted to spend a bit of concentrated time in manuscript-immersion mode as opposed to perpetually stuck in the eyes-to-the-phone-screen position.

One day unplugged would be doable, I thought. Two, tops.

But one day became one week, which had somehow morphed into three months. Three months fully present and finally—yes, finally—hitting my authorly stride. I wrote books…plural. And outlined others. And tweaked my business plan. And established a second brand for my mature adult fiction. It was like a whole new me had surfaced and taken over— the frantic, urgent, impassioned writer I always knew was buried inside.

I’d have been crazy to fight it.

The words kept coming and I wasn’t about to disinvite them by answering my phone’s seduction call and becoming lost in an abyss of selfies, subtweets, and hashtagery.

Of course, that’s not to say I didn’t miss those things. Because I did. A lot. Nor am I condemning social media, smartphones, or the internet at large. Because I love ’em! I do! Heck, if it weren’t for a little platform called Wattpad.com and the encouragement and support I’d received there when I was starting out, I would never have published my first book.

However, the lessons learned during my time offline have been invaluable, leaving me indelibly prepared for a more fulfilling and productive New Year and beyond. Especially this golden nugget of wisdom…

Writing comes first—always.

(Side note: We all know that family in fact comes first, but within the context of this blogspace I’m strictly talking from a career-longevity standpoint. Okay, I’m glad I got that off my chest.)

So, writing, eh? What a revelation! Not.

I mean, really—it couldn’t be more obvious. Yet we still tend to forget, don’t we? How many of us have poured our blood, sweat and tears into writing and publishing that one book only to become consumed immediately thereafter with things like algorithms, sales rankings, sponsored ads, page likes, social media shares, and wondering if one needs to sacrifice their first born in order to get reviews?

Just me? Well, never mind then. 😉

In all seriousness, though, nothing is more vital—more necessary—than putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and churning out those stories. Its importance is paramount. It has to be. Otherwise, word counts remain stagnant, which is a real mood killer. Trust me.

Try to think of it this way: The more time you spend online, the less time you spend writing, and the longer it takes to build a loyal readership. You want followers? Great! Retweets? Fantastic! Shares? Who wouldn’t!?

But if you want to experience steady career growth, touch the lives of others with your stories, and find readers in increasing numbers who’ll stick with you for the long haul…

Then write more books.

Speaking from my own experience, I knew the only way I was ever going to get my groove back was to forget trying to be everywhere all at once. To stop obsessing over rankings. To reunite with my phone only after I’d met my daily word count goal and not a moment before.

It was challenging at first. We are, after all, creatures of habit. But gradually, the more I left the phone aside, the more it freed up my imagination, and the more words filled my pages. The result is three books I’ll be bringing to you in 2018.

Who woulda thunk it? Certainly not me!

Maintaining a social media presence while keeping your finger on the pulse of what’s happening in the publishing industry should be a part of every writer’s platform-building and marketing strategy. Not to mention that it’s also a wonderful way to engage with readers and show support for other writers whose work you enjoy.

But if you’re a writer who spends more than a fair amount of time online (don’t we all?) while consistently drifting in and out of states of creative inertia, then scaling back on scrolling-n-posting, even just a little, could make all the difference in your bookish output.

So that might mean updating your Facebook status 2-3 times a week instead of daily. Or scheduling your tweets ahead of time so that they’ll automatically post at chosen intervals (there are many useful apps for this purpose). This is perfectly acceptable and more than sufficient. Because honestly, when it comes right down to it, your posting frequency won’t translate to much if you’re not actively expanding your catalog of work by…

Say it with me…

Writing.

And if you need to go off-grid like I did to get those creative juices flowing, then that’s okay too. Just keep in mind that when you lay low for a stretch of time, people will unfollow you. That’s to be expected. But don’t worry. Your genuine internet friends and supporters will not only have your back, they’ll be right there waiting upon your return.

So write first, scroll-n-post later. Your career (and your readers!) will thank you for it.

Oh, and Happy Holidays to you and yours! 🙂

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: pixabay.com

 

More (A Poem/Short Story)

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She kept the bouquets
Given in bloom
Before reverence was a ghost
Rancid lilies
On the bedside table
Patronizing her
With their shelf-life devotion

“Never again will I love,” she proclaimed
“Never again will I give,” she explained
“Never again will I chase the chaser”
“Stroke the ego”
“Be led by reins made from frays of detachment”

She told herself
Life was brilliant, easier
When she kept her heart guarded
Though at the point of sale
She didn’t buy
What she was pushing

Yet she existed without living
Thought without reasoning
Reached for tomorrow
Inside ancient history
Plagued by its confines
As the floor met the ceiling
And the walls closed in

She took to sand and sea
Cloud gazing in the dunes
Spongy beds beneath her spine
Bursts of freckles just a sun-kiss away
As she finally came to

Her fractured fairytale
Still pierced her mind
But its jabs were brief
And its frequency was fading

Oh, but she was slow
To usher in…him
A knight without the armor 
Bold and uninvited
Extracting her from that comfy corner
Of complacency

She took his attention
With a side of suspicion
Despite emotions upending
Without permission
Blending then curving
In all directions

Ah, but it felt too good

Too rare
Too risky
Too scary
Too much
Too fast
Too soon

She charted an escape
A path to resistance
Right there for the taking

She clung to it
Bathed in it
Slept in it
Woke to it
Gorged herself on it
And wore it
Like a second skin

But damn
If he wasn’t persistent
And beautiful
And so easy to adore

But surely
Her surrender
To that exquisite ache
Adhering to her frantic pulse
Was merely a prelude
To a greater pain to come?

No
Yes

Predictions were tangled
And often convoluted
So she took a leap of fate
For this joy was worth
Every maybe

When he showed her the stars
She was infinite
When he opened his arms
She fell home
When he pulled her close
Her body remembered
What she told it to forget
Its artful formation
Both courageous and kind

When he held out his heart
She slipped it on for size
Its perfect fit
Impossible to ignore

And when she let out her crazy
He took out his scars
And when she let down her hair
He caught all her fears
And when he kept coming back
She stopped asking why
And when he loved her
She loved him more

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: pixabay.com

 

 

A New Year For Keeping Promises

promises

We’ve all got history.

Some we honor with nostalgic fondness. Some we barely remember. Some we only fess up to after liberal helpings of liquid encouragement plunge us into bouts of facepalm retrospect, leaving us with that one gnawing question…

What the eff was I thinking?

And then, of course, some history…

We wish like hell we could forget.

But each experience teaches us something fundamentally important, no matter how far or well we’ve traveled within the circle of life.

Even as I nudge my way through the upper echelon of middle age, life continues to teach me, sometimes in jarring ways, that it is full of change. And, often…

Of endings.

Yet, I also take comfort in having learned long ago that some things are forever, like the certainty that I will always love my family, my children, and my soulmate.

And that I will always hold precious…

My dreams.

After all, passions provide purpose, and they are omnipresent…

In all of us.

Every January, we tend to embark on quests for self-betterment, reuniting our dreams with the due diligence that abandoned them sometime around mid-February the previous year.

We ache to be reborn. We pitch Stuart Smalley-esque affirmations to our expectant reflections. We make promises. And then, gradually…

We break them.

Why?

Because the vows we make to ourselves are the hardest to keep.

I can personally vouch for this.

Anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time could probably guess that my dreams heavily revolve around writing, books, writing, romance, writing, and…

Did I mention writing?

So call me Captain Obvious, but I love to write! LOVE. IT. Always have, always will.

However, when I bid adieu to 2016 with champagne flute in-hand, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the writerly promises I’d made to myself that went unfulfilled—namely, the stories in my head that were supposed to end up in print, but didn’t.

Sure, I could blame everything from chronic PMS to those cat-versus-cucumber YouTube compilations that are oh-so-addictive, but the truth?

I allowed my aspirations to fall out of focus.

If you’re a word nerd like me, you know that life as a writer can be incredibly isolating. Keeping the dream alive requires persistence and sacrifice, which can pose a challenge for those of us who suffer the guilt of said sacrifice, conditioning us to then give precedence to everything else.

We assign our dreams “hobby” or “back burner” status, a confusing contradiction since we don’t actually think of them in these terms.

But sometimes, that’s all it takes to bring our active pursuits to a grinding halt. We may even try convincing ourselves that none of it really matters, especially when there are so many other things that require our time and attention.

But deep down, we know better.

My love affair with the written word began as an adolescent. I discovered the freedom and catharsis of gliding ink across paper, an exercise inspired by one of my idols at the time, author Judy Blume.

Back then, I was struggling to find myself and where I might fit in the world—a literal work in progress. But despite not yet knowing who or where I wanted to be, as long as I had words, I was moving.

And that was good enough for me.

Whenever I reminisce on that time, I not only fall in love with writing all over again, but I realize…

I am still a work in progress.

So this year, whether I finish writing one book, six, or even zilch, the part of me that thrives on stringing words and chasing stories will always be there, even when life throws curveballs that try to tell me otherwise.

I don’t know about you, but I feel a responsibility to keep those promises I left hanging in 2016.

So, with that, I raise my pen…

And feel a novel coming on. 😉

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: pexels.com – Ed Gregory, photographer

 

Why?

Writing Tools

To dig deep.
To win and to lose.
To search for outlets.
To bleed raw.
To dance with my demons.
To face the trauma.
To explore what it means to experience life.
To agonize.
To intellectualize.
To explode into the fragments I hide.
To salt my wounds.
To taste the tears.
To fade my scars.
To feel everything as powerfully as I can.
To believe in my worth.
To forgive myself for weakness and misplaced trust.
To release the guilt that was never mine to carry.
To live with passion and unwavering faith.
To express with honesty, always…no matter how joyous or sad or ridiculous or maddening.
To recognize that the truth is often convoluted.
To demand more ingenuity.
To begin each day knowing there’s a chance to make it better.
To embrace all the moments, big and small.
To understand that no story is ever completely told.
To reunite with my first love every time I hold a pen.
 
This is why…I write.

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S A Healey, a happily married mother of two, is and will forever remain, a lover of words and a sucker for romance. You can find out more about her novels and other works at http://www.sahealey.com