Entering My Forties Era

 Tomorrow is my birthday. My FORTIETH birthday. When I was a teenager, forty seemed so ... old. But now that I am forty, I don't see myself that way. Sure, there are days where my knees click and I definitely can't handle roller coasters or dairy like I used to, but that's not because I'm old. That's because my body is ... experienced with life and burdened with gravity. Okay, age-euphemisms aside, I don't feel forty. I still have energy, humor, and fairly nice skin, and honestly I feel healthier and more comfortable in my body than I ever have. 

It's a cliche to say "age is a state of mind," but it's also true. I choose to have fun and feel young, so I'm going to will my brain and body to do just that, only with the forty years of wisdom and balance that keep me grounded and capable of moving forward despite challenges. I still have more than half of my life to go (if all goes as planned) and I'm grateful that I've earned the chance to apply what I have learned in life as I enter this next decade. 

So what have I learned in the past four decades? Here's a quick summary:

0-10 years old: I learned that kids can be cruel, that life isn't fair, and that sometimes you just need to cry. But I also learned to take joy from simple pleasures, to sing loudly even when you're afraid, and to cherish those that are kind and in your corner. (This was a tough decade.)

10-20 years old: I learned that the problem might be the situation and not necessarily you, that you will find your people if you put yourself out there, and that falling in love can be exciting and messy. I learned that not all friends are forever, and that's okay, because there was a reason to have them at a certain time. And I learned that change is scary but necessary, not matter how many times it happens. (This was a very emotional decade. We're talking LOTS of emotions)

20-30 years old: I learned that sometimes you just need to be by yourself and focus on yourself, and that's okay. I learned that most things arrive when you stop looking for them. And I learned that true love takes compromise, respect, and communication without sacrificing your own identity. I learned that I deserve love. (This decade saw the most pivotal growth.)

30-40 years old: I learned that being a parent is the most rewarding and most difficult job in the world. I learned that the days are long, but the years are short and to not take any moment for granted. I learned that pausing or taking a break from something doesn't mean it's over. And I learned that I can invest in myself and love myself without being selfish. (This was my best decade yet.)

There's so much more, but sometimes we learn a lesson in the moment, forget it, and have to learn it all over again. Therein lies the beauty of life. 

I had an amazing 39th year. I published a book! And there were so many events with friends and family, thousands of pictures taken, interesting places visited, and professional milestones reached. But beyond the concrete list of items that can be ticked off, there's the overall feeling of this past year: acceptance, empowerment, and love. It always comes back to love. 

I love the life, the opportunities, and the people that have helped me grow into the person I am today. And I can't wait to see what else there is to love in my next decade of life. 

Taking Time Together

Many of my writings include female characters that get lost in their roles as partners, mothers, and workers. It probably comes as no surprise that I am often inspired by my real life. As a mom, teacher, wife, and writer, I sometimes lose sense of who I am without all those titles. Or I try to be the best at each of them and end up feeling anxious, guilty, or disappointed in myself. In order to keep some semblance of sanity, the roles sometimes exist in flux, with certain ones rising to the top and others falling to the bottom. 

Unfortunately, one role that tends to often fall to the bottom of the priority list is that as a wife. Not that I’m a bad partner: my husband and I work together to keep the house up, prepare meals, run errands, and spend time with the kids. But we don’t get as much time to just be together, to just enjoy one another’s company. We fall victim to the routine and the deadlines. After fourteen years of marriage and two kids, some might say it's normal, but I know we aren't at our best when we start to lose connection. 

That’s why it is so important as a couple, especially a couple with children, to prioritize time together. It’d been three years since my husband and I spent a kid-free weekend together until this weekend. For my birthday, my husband arranged for us to drop my kids off with my mom for the weekend, drive back home, and spend the weekend together. We went out for karaoke with friends (I do a mean rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing”), went to the musical Hadestown (I still can’t get “Wait For Me” out of my head), and watched whatever we wanted on Netflix (North of North is a fun binge). Sure, we also had to take care of the regular weekend errands such as grocery shopping and laundry, but it was nice to spend it with him, making a date of it rather than dividing up the duties and going our separate ways. To remember this was the person I chose to do life with and to create life with. This weekend was a necessary reminder.

Those other roles in life don't disappear, but it's okay for them to take a backseat once in awhile. And even though I am prone to guilt (as I've discussed in previous posts), it doesn’t make me a bad mother to want some time alone with my husband. It doesn’t make me a bad teacher to avoid all schoolwork for a weekend. And it doesn’t make me a bad writer to abstain from marketing and writing this weekend (okay, I did still post and work on my edit … so maybe that doesn't count). It’s healthy to take the time to reconnect whether it be with yourself, a partner, family, or friends. It’s probably what we need to keep going, keep thriving, and keep loving ourselves and others. If we take the time for ourselves, we can see who we are individually more easily in the various roles we hold, and appreciate all more authentically.

I’m feeling more connected and free this Sunday evening, and even though I am still looking ahead and worrying about what I need to do this upcoming week, I can go into the routine knowing who I am and what I’ve chosen in life. And I can say this: I’ve chosen well. 

First Edit and a Whole Ton of Humility

 The best part of writing is definitely creating a story and characters then hearing that the story resonated with readers. 

The worst part of writing: everything else. 

More specifically: editing.

No one likes to be told everything they did wrong while writing (unless that is a special brand of self-masochism). Okay, yes, it is satisfying to make those corrections and realize you are one step closer to the end product, but the actual facing of what you did wrong the first time around? Not as satisfying. 

For anyone who's ever been interested, here's the process of writing, or at least a process that I am familiar with:

• Plot out story points (some skip this part and just start writing like the wild animals they are)
• Write the first draft (this can take a week for overproductive freaks of nature like R.L. Stine or up to a decade for those who are more meticulous...or distracted...or afraid of commitment)
• Go through draft and edit/revise on own
• Have beta readers read the draft
• Wait anxiously while beta readers finish reading 
• Collect beta readers' feedback and decide whether or not to apply
• Go through draft again
• Give draft to publisher who hands it off to editor
• Wait anxiously for editor to return draft with recommended changes, possibly adding to your draft while you wait just to make the edit application that much tougher
• Receive first edit and vascillate between crying about your inadequacies and cursing the poor editor that was just doing their job
• Start the tedious job of applying edits and feedback, sometimes painfully deciding which to follow and which to ignore
• Send edited draft back to publisher and editor for next round
• Wait anxiously to receive next round of edits
• Go through the exact same process with hopefully less edits
• Possibly play this back and forth editing game multiple times
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ... (You get the point. This is the agonizing, redundant part.)
• Sign off on final edited draft
• Receive formatted copy
• Read through pdf and write edit suggestions on another doc because now the formatting is set
• Go through this process multiple times which is however many times you find something wrong or want to make changes to what you previously thought was a brilliant idea but doesn't come across as brilliant the tenth time you read it
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...
• Accept that you hate your story now because of how many times you have been forced to read it
• Sign off on the final copy
• Wait anxiously for the book to be printed
• Cry tears of joy when you see your printed baby and believe all the pain, self-doubt, and headaches were worth it (Pretty much the equivalency to giving birth and seeing your baby only with less tearing of flesh)
• Start the marketing and selling process
• Fully understand the meaning of self-hatred and disappointment

So maybe this isn't everyone's process, or maybe other writers have healthier self-images. Either way, I just received the first edit of Road Maps and am now going through the first grueling process of applying said edits, of which there are over 2900 this round. 

Someone send help. Or dark chocolate. Or cheese. Or wine. (I prefer rosé.)

If you seeing me crying in the next few months, please understand it's all part of the wonderful process of being an author. And I'm happy to have the opportunity. I really am. 

(Are you sending those snacks yet?)

Me staring at my computer while I apply edits