Dream Lover

Once in a while, people, like my family and friends ask me: “ Don’t you ever get lonely-alone all the time?” My answers vary. The truth is… sometimes I do get lonely. But not so much that I would settle for less than what I need or want in a companion.

I sure wouldn’t mind someone to eat dinner, go to a movie or talk about a good books with, who could rub my back too. But the truth is- writing is my lover. Writing is what obsesses me and makes me happy or sad. It drives me to get up in the morning and stay up late so I don't miss too many hours of an already too short day.

Today I am cleaning house… but here I am. I’m taking a break because I have no less than five stories going through my head today. I can’t turn them off. Like a bothersome lover who needs some attention- I must stop everything and do what I do before he will leave me alone. I don’t really mind though- because I love to write.

Ego aside-(which is hard to do for a writer) I think I was born to write. Not that I think I am particularly good at it- I think I’m fair. I just have a need to sit down and put words on paper. They don’t have to be my words. The words can belong to any character. I don’t have to believe all these words or live by them. They are just there- wanting to be somewhere else. Sometimes they are my words and I do live by them. But that’s a different kind of writing- like today- a purge- so I can get back to real life or what you call real life.

When people ask me what I write- I tell them anything and everything. Some days I write recipes or silly children’s rhymes, other days I write literary fiction and sometimes letters to strangers. It doesn’t really matter to me. I just need to do it. The same goes for reading- although I am less fervent now then 20 years ago, if there is nothing for me to read I will read the cereal box, the cleanser can and whatever else these old eyes can make out. I read junk mail.

My days consist of fleeting moments of reality that interrupt my fantasy world of characters with annoying regularity. Logically I know I can’t stay in character so I have silent conversations like the crazy ladies of Market St. in San Francisco. I’m in my own little world.

I try to keep myself together. I pretend to be normal. Sometimes I catch someone looking at me in a flirty way and I think wow, he must be desperate. Still though- it brightens my day to know I can still turn a head now and then- even if that head belongs on a 70 year old.

This romance with words has taken a toll on me though. It’s not like I don’t know that. I have aged. I am wrinkled, fat and a bit cantankerous. I’m really only happy when I have finished writing something. If I still smoked- I would light up a cigarette every time I finished writing something.

So, if I were to meet someone today- he would have to take a back seat to my real lover. He would have to be smart, secure and have a great sense of humor. He would have to love all my flaws and ever so gently tell me when I wrote something crappy. He would have to be patient while I flipped and flopped on thought process and when I stayed up all night researching the life of a snail or trying to find out who is in charge of dispensing toiletries to Marine recruits. Honestly- I would find me to be a pain in the ass.

Now, maybe I can go back to cleaning for a bit. This is how days get away from me. Just like this.

Keeping the Blues at Bay

Every day I tell myself I will write something. Lately though, I have been stressed about no job and no money and writing has become a futile chore. My sister mentioned something about hardship making me a better writer… until I reminded her, I have probably had enough hardship for two lives already- no more needed to humble me or teach me about suffering.

So yesterday- when I was fairly depressed but trying to put one foot in front of the other with my job search, cover letters and tailored resumes, I heard my i-phone beep signaling an email.

I have 4 email accounts tied to my i-phone and the account it came to is the one tied to my website, blog and book sales as well as my job search efforts. I hoped for a job or a book sale.

Instead, it was the boot in the ass I needed. An email from a perfect stranger. She told me she loved my story Please Tie Your Shoes in “our” book and she wanted to encourage my writing- that I had an “awesome way with words.” She especially liked The Dragon Slayer's Mother. Wow… I quickly grabbed my copy of Cup of Comfort for Military Families and looked up her name. I read her story, which was well written and heartwarming. I went to her website which touted her many publications and suddenly I felt hopeful. Liz, the mother of a Marine and writer was encouraging me- and I soaked it up. I actually cried.

I do have good friends and family that encourage my writing- and I appreciate that more than they probably realize. But encouragement from a stranger and published author of numerous stories and articles was what I needed. No bias. She didn’t know my story and the only thing we really had in common was we are both mothers of Marines and we are both writers.

Liz’s website is http://www.lizhoyt-eberle.com/
If you have a copy of Cup of Comfort for Military Families-, her story is A (Nearly) Perfect Christmas

I’m still broke and jobless. But I am hopeful that one day soon things will turn around.