I don’t know when I stopped to be able to relax. Perhaps it happened once my world got smaller and smaller until the only time I can call my own is when I sleep and I don’t get that much of that either.

I used to be good at taking care of myself. Meditation first thing in the morning, then work, adding to that the kids when they were born. A workout at the end of the day, a good book to fall asleep. Movies and long walks in the week-end. There was always something that could help me unwind.

Now it seems, whenever I have a few minutes to myself, I just can’t let go. Who knows why, but there isn’t even a book that will soothe me.

There seems to be a time for everything and perhaps this is a phase in my life to be on edge and a little angsty, perhaps I need a long stretch of down time to finally feel stress free. Who knows?

It’s not bad, I do get a lot done but I do feel a little disconnected from myself. This too shall pass…

The proposal for Ancient Secrets is almost done. I’m really liking it. And today I decided that “The Gravity of Love” by Enigma makes a good playlist song for the steampunk.

Balance, what a difficult word.

There seems to be a world where it’s not ok to think about yourself. It puzzles me but yet I fall into that as well sometimes.

When you love, love deeply, you want to do everything for the object of your affection. You lose yourself in them.

And yet is this fairy tale ideal desirable? Viable? Healthy?

If you lose yourself do you not suffer a slow erosion of the soul? When one by one you give up everything that matters to you, when you ignore each layers of your own comfort until there is nothing left, just you raw and bare, when there is nothing at all of you, is that desirable?

Is that what we want to give? Is that what we demand of the ones we love? To lose themselves into us?

What happened to the celebration of the individual? When the other grows and learns and continues to change and to be passionate about everything? Isn’t that much more exciting?

I love to watch my boys grow. I literaly sit there and watch them. They fascinate me. I don’t want to dictate their taste or make them similar to me. I celebrate their emerging personalities and observe them mesmerized, with unconditional love.

Should we all be so lucky.

Blessed be

A topic that came up a lot in Bob Mayer Warrior Writer class is that we all feel like a fraud at various degrees, like we got there by some dumb luck and not by talent.

I suffer from that big time! I am stalling on my proposal for the rest of my series. Oh it’s written and I like it, my writing partner likes it but I can’t let it go.

I’ll be honest. When I look around at authors just like me, with a debut book, and that sold the next in the series I think I’m not one of them so I wont sell again. Why? Because they are real writers, I’m not. I sold so quickly, I didn’t win any writing contests, didn’t sweat over a few manuscript (I sweat over the one but it doesn’t count does it?)

Yes a fraud. I’m not good just lucky. Same feeling as I has when I got my PhD and my big fitness director dream job. I’m lucky.

I don’t know that I’ll ever feel different about any successes I may get. It’s seems hard wired in me and the failure I do encounter from time to time just seem to confirm that I’m right. I’m a fraud.

So ok but how do I move forward? Face the fear that I will be discovered?

Enjoy the ride? Perhaps. Send it out anyway out of pure madness? Just in case? Or perhaps just forget everyone and send what makes me smile, laugh, cry and shivers. I don’t know, you tell me!

Blessed be

I was reading a blog by agent Irene Goodman a little while ago about good habits for writers and she mentionned that sometimes you just have to get on that bus.

What does it mean?

You work hard at your craft, you do all that you should and you know that you are ready for that small bit of luck that may come your way.

But when it comes, do you actually recognize it? Do you ride it? Are you getting on that bus?

When I had the chance to be an AT finalist, I knew I was close to the big prize. I worked as hard as I could. The night before “the call” or “the email” really, I was ready for a no. I had done absolutely all I could. I went to bed knowing there was not one more thing I could do with the ressources I had.

If I hadn’t make it, I would have had no regrets.

For the things that matter to us, our relationships, our love ones, our passions, it’s good to try to recognize that time. Are we getting on the bus? Giving it our very best? Or are we stepping back, knowing what we should do but being held back by fear, or laziness or perhaps thinking that we’ll have that chance again?

Luck is fickle, it happens only once. Make that call, listen to your child, go deep and address your issues, wake up and write that scene, take charge. Not later, now.

A little more brainstorming of the Steampunk story today and closing in on that title!

Blessed be

I remember when I started writing Ancient Whispers, it was more than a story. It was all of me. My experience, my emotions, all the things that made me go ah. Call it pouring my heart and soul into it.

As I’m in the midst of the sequel, Ancient Secrets, I see what, until recently, I was missing. So far all it was, was a story. Boy meet girl, big battle. But so what?

My father always asked “so what” at the end of his paleontology seminars. So what? What is the point of this? Why should we care?

I think fiction is the same. I think we, the writer, should care, should be so involved that the story of the moment is “the one”, the best one, the one that contains our hopes, our dreams, are pains, our deep thoughts in life, even as we craft love scenes and magical worlds. It should always be our intense vision of the moment.

I guess that’s what I had been missing.

Finished editing my first 4 chapters of Ancient Secrets today, about 40 pages. Hopefully my writing partners will give me their impressions so I can go over it once more before sending it out.

Brainstormed some more on the Steampunk story and came up with some awesome scenes. I’m loving this as well, but I’m still undecided about the title.

Blessed Be.

When was the last time you heard the sound of nothing.
When you could hear the cars drive by from far away. When all there was near you was the buzz still left by the loudness from the crazy around you.

You hear your heart beating, your breath settling. Nothing, nothing at all. Peace. Your body uncoiling, releasing tension slowly, so slowly. You sink into the couch.

And still silence. No shouts, no loud music, no door slamming or things upturned.

Just you, your breathe, nothing.

Blessed Be

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Why do we fear?

Today author Gerri Russel wrote a blog about fear and it got me to think of all these fears inside me that can sometimes paralyze me into not taking action.

What really are we afraid off? What will happen? Will someone say no? Or some people will hate the result of our effort, scorn it, made fun of it? Or perhaps someone will be angry at us because we did something against his will?

Will that kill us? Because frankly we can survive a whole lot. But sometimes we forget. We forget how strong we are, we forget our courage.

I’m endebted to author Bob Mayer for bringing me courage. At a workshop in Seattle, he told us that when soldiers were embushed and could not turn back or flee left or center, they had no choice but jump into the battle and fight in order to survive.

Fight may mean different things to different people but sometimes we do need to. Need to face our fears with courage.

I asked him how to built courage and basically the answer is simple. Training. The more you face your fear, the more you do the hard things, the easiest it becomes.

I was telling my little one this morning how I use to be so shy and quiet, each of my report cards came back with a warning to my mom saying I was too reserved. Then even in high school, I was petrified and shook all over just to speak in front of the class.

Later in college I decided to face my fears and learned how to teach aerobics. Now I can address a crowded room without even thinking. I actually enjoy it. I learned tricks and did it over and over for 15 years. This fear of public speaking is long gone.

So what are my fears, your fears and what will we do about them? Where’s our courage?

Edited a few pages of Ancient Secrets today, moving along.

Brightest Blessings…

I spent 5 hrs straight at the coffeeshop today going through my galley proofs of Ancient Whispers and made it through half of the book, 150 pages. Not bad at all for one day.

Later, it occured to me that if I was to spent just 3 hrs a day, everyday writing or editing, I would be able to write, edit and revise 2 books a year. Is this the key to success? That constant discipline?

That how I did fitness, training daily. Of course, I have all my “life” obligation on top of that to fulfill but really 3 hrs. Some people easily watch that much TV a day. Two hours in the morning, one during the day or night. Is that possible? Shall I give it a shot?

Brightest Blessings

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Why do you write they ask? For years and years I wrote to find myself.

How hard it is for me to express verbally what I truly mean and anyway who really does care about my many thoughs. Once I scribble them on paper, I understand things and I can let go.

Years of journaling to understand.

But this sort of sadness always in me that won’t go, I curb it by using the words to transport me into this other world. Because I could not write the real, the mondaine. I do think of it, I do dwell on the big questions our civilization needs to ask but only for a moment. Because to stay there too long causes me extreme pain since I can do so little to help.

And so I carve the stories I want to love, full of powers that are not real, noble sentiments too pure to sustain in the real world. It’s better than any virtual reality created by others, it’s my own world and so private that I can let myself go and shape it’s magic all around me. Yes you may read it, or at least one of those world will be public for now but honestly, that’s just one of the vivid dreams I wanted to live and I have thousands more to come.

Still no revising today and the clock ticks.

Blessed Be

(as always click on the image at the top for the artist info)

And so a lot of amazing things happened since I won the American Title. I had my picture in the RTBOOK review, I gave an acceptance speech in from of a big crowd of writers at RT, I was interviewed for the French evening news in Canada and I have a giant poster of my cover in my bedroom given to me by the publisher.

But nothing, nothing so far can compare to getting my cover flats today. The cover flats are just that, a book cover laid flat. If I fold it, I see the spine with my name on it. And I finally saw the back as well.

And that’s when I was struck with the truth. I am a reader. Ever since I was 4, I read and read and read. I was an only child and spent my youth with my nose in a book. I collected them, piled them up, arranged them neatly in the midst of my chaotic bedroom and always wanted more.

Later I spent hours in libraries and book stores. I idolized writers and had this dream that maybe someday..

I just love books. I love to touch them, search through them, admire their cover, read them. I can’t go anywhere without at least one book. Even in this day and age when I have a few loaded on my iPhone. I do want the real hard thing.

I have a huge “to-be-read” pile.

And today, to see my name on the spine of a book was the most amazing feeling. I just can’t stop looking at it. Gone are the amazon rankings and fear I will never sell another one. I have this book. And it’s perfect with it’s black cover with pink writing, its mysterious and sexy feel, its intriguing lettering, I just love it.

And the Dorchester publicist added this marketing quote to describe my writing “Bourque has a lush and lyrical style that combines the best of Marion Zimmer Bradley and Sherrilyn Kenyon.

How could I not love being compared to my favorite authors.

I am sure seasoned authors get used to this but somehow I don’t think I ever will. To me, a true reader at heart, this magical feeling could never get old.

Brightest Blessings

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