Tag: Kelly Notaras

Rubber and Roads

I’m getting ready to jump off the high diving board this week. All of my dithering about whether or not to engage a book coach went out the window after I talked with Carolyn Flynn. Carolyn is described by KN Literary Services’ Publishing Consultant Sarah Bossenbroek as “one of their most beloved and trusted coaches.” High praise. Well-deserved.

Carolyn and I hit it off as there are similarities in our work backgrounds. She was once the editor of a now-defunct healing-oriented magazine I read and admired years ago called Sage. I immediately entered a secret sisterhood with her discussing the demise of Sage. That magazine was a victim of the rise of online technology platforms and the steady of erosion and support for printed publications. It was a tragedy. There have been many.

As a former fellow journalist, I squelched the temptation to use our time to bemoan the deplorable state of journalism. We pivoted back to the business at hand. But we both feel it. The shared grief over the decline of print and widespread diminished respect for writers and words. I saw that as a good sign.

KN Literary has already sent a draft contract to review. Essentially, it is a commitment to whip this manuscript into publishable shape by an as-yet-to-be-determined late fall date. I am required to write an outline. I thought I might dodge that task as my book is a transitional memoir. No such luck.

So I am bearing down. I discover something interesting every day as I write this blog. What I really think and really feel comes into clearer focus. That, in itself, is a gift. The short but significant journey from confusion to clarity. That clarity makes it easier to choose what to include and exclude from the book. I also realize the value of affirming what matters to me as well as that which is no longer important. I see this sorting exercise will be useful up the road when I have to consider what should stay and what should go in the manuscript.

If I don’t know what I really care about, how will I be able to advocate for it? At one point in my life, I was regularly run over by other people’s priorities and wishes. Even if I knew what I wanted and preferred, I was powerless to express and act on my own instincts much of the time. It is a consequence of deep-seated trauma and terror. Being beyond that and in a place where I own my integrity around my feelings and dreams is light years away from those difficult days.

Growing older means shedding stuff. Ego. Stuff. Abilities. Ambition. Becoming comfortable in our chosen “ruts” and enjoying the comforts of consistency and familiarity. We rein in the extraordinary scope of possibility we had as young adults and then bear down on a chosen path. Life’ll learn ya who you are and what you are made of.

It is a good time to be writing this book. If I’d started earlier there likely would not have been enough material or insight. There would not have been the necessary coda to life chapters I had to pack up and put away. I had not fully tested and integrated the lessons I’d learned for their validity and durability.

I am embarrassed by how simple it all turns out to be. I originally learned the most basic and important rule somewhere around Grade Three. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” And keep your mouth shut until you are asked to offer your opinion or your help. Both of those lessons took a while to take root and fully learn.

So, back to the outline. Rubber is hitting the road. What started out metaphorically as a Sunday drive to see what I might see is turning into a major road trip. Or a life trip depending on how you look at it.

These days, I no longer worry about whether or not I packed everything for the journey. I am confident enough in myself that I know I can pick up along the way what I might have forgotten to pack. That is progress.

Poor Bird

Missed my 3X Weekly Writers Group ZOOM meeting yesterday. I was wrung out. I slept poorly the night before. Woke up at 4 AM on Sunday morning. Sat down in front of the computer to make myself sleepy again. Got sleepy. Fell asleep and didn’t wake up until after the noon hour. Our group meeting starts at noon.

The bloody domino effect. I had been awash in nervous tension all week around a decision I needed someone to make in my favor so I could travel. The decision was not made in my favor. In fact, no decision was made at all. In any case, that nil decision completely upended my plans for this week, travel and otherwise

I am not 100% certain how to rebalance myself but it does seem like a “learning opportunity.” (Thank you, Oprah, for that emotional exit strategy.) I started by letting go of the outcome over which I had no control anyway. That was easier said than done. And it appears my psyche didn’t get the memo. Otherwise, I would not have been up in the middle of the night fretting and fitful.

So it goes. Now I have a brand new set of tasks ahead of me this week as I try to recover what I lost in losing out on the travel plans. So there’s that. Lots of busy work ahead.

After this is posted today, I have a 15-minute consult scheduled with KN Literary Services. I need help. They want money. Seems like a marriage made in heaven. KN Literary Services is the brainchild of author/publisher Kelly Notaras. Her book title is pure marketing genius. The Book You Were Born to Write. There is not a budding writer in the world who hasn’t frequently wondered if, and how, to scratch their book writing itch. Notaras nails it.

As a bona fide twenty-year veteran of the New York “big house” book publishing scene, Notaras is now embedded in what appears to be a mutually fruitful collaboration with the Hay House publishing company. My current focus is on writing a book proposal to submit to the Hay House Writer’s Community publishing contest (Deadline: May 5 or June 5, 2023) depending on the power of the procrastination phantasms. (I was looking in Merriam-Webster for an alliterative synonym for demons. Phantasms is way better than phantoms in this context, don’t you agree?)

I had already put off this consult with KN Literary Services twice. I feared I was not focused enough on what I wanted to write about to have that conversation. I feel I am clearer now but I expect they will tell me. I write a series of scenes dutifully each day, then save them to my computer in a file called “SCENES.” The so-called narrative “arc” of my memoir is building. Salty-sweet, let’s call it.

It is about the struggle of getting from where I was sprung to where I am now. A place of peace. That was the most implausible of dreams in my youth, but here we are. There is a whole literature devoted to society’s tendency to “blame the victim.” What I didn’t expect was to experience blame from a parent for violations that happened to me on my parents’ watch. My mother (my primary antagonist) had a number of memorable sayings. One I remember that is germane to this discussion: “It’s a poor bird that shits in its own nest.”

Maybe in writing this memoir, my mother was right. Come to think of it, Poor Bird isn’t a bad working title. At the very least, I can thank my mother for that.