I sold a story for inclusion in an anthology. That simple sentence doesn’t convey the confidence and well , JOY, I’m feeling at this moment. Granted, it’s one story and not for a lot of money. And well, I do have two books in print, a third one on the way, all three of which (as far as my little world is concerned) have met with reader acclaim. Technically, I’ve been a published author since 2008. But for some reason, this one sale seems to have validated everything else. It erased the previous rejections, eased quite a bit of my fear and if the truth be told, sort of freaks me out because my life this year seems to be following the life of my main character in the book I’m publishing now.
Which brings me to my next random topic in today’s “other news”. You know I’m going to be taking a virtual 30 day holiday in London next month. Well, when I was first kicking around the idea of taking the actual 30 days, I had this dream about a guy I was going to meet while I was there. We met on a dance floor at a night club. Never did see his face in the dream, but I was able to draft a description of him. Click either of the links above for the actual post. Anyway, about a month ago, I’m getting ready to go out with friends and I’m just filled with anxiety. A feeling that something big was going to happen. Well, it did, sort of. I met a guy matching the description from my dream (with very few exceptions). He’d even been raised in England! Yeah, I know. Dude stepped right out of my imagination. FREAKED me out to say the least. Side note – met another gentleman just this past weekend who fit the description only his Brit affiliation was that he had been in London not too long ago for a two-week stint, but can fairly imitate a British accent. Again, the connection freaks me out. Is the universe maybe sending me hints? Telling me to get ready? I’d like to believe that’s the case because I’m entering the United Airlines contest where the winner gets to go to the Olympics in London!!!! Dude. For real? For real.
Okay, so I’m sort of getting around to the “I’m Batman” part of the post. I’ve been going through a growth spurt; sort of coming to grips with parts of me that I’d suppressed for YEARS. The two biggest being my emotions (feelings) and my softer side. I’d been a tom-boy growing up and then used the whole, “big girls don’t cry” philosophy to keep my pain hidden from everyone so I wouldn’t come across as weak or emotional. If women were supposed to be or do, then I was going to be or do the opposite. But let’s face it, I am a woman; a creative woman; an artistic, passionate, expressive woman, and a writer to boot. It was bound to happen that the wall would crumble and suddenly I wouldn’t be able to hide any more. At first, it would just come out in my writing, but in January I cried in front of people. In April I said “I love you” out loud to someone who wasn’t family (still thinking I shouldn’t have done that but it’s out there now and as much as I try, I can’t take it back). Anyway, all of these behaviors – did I mention I voluntarily bought a PRETTY dress, and two purses to match shoes? ACK! – these behaviors started popping up and I wigged out at each of them. More and more, I find my feelings coming to the fore front and I’m thinking I’m hiding them but alas, I was told point-blank that they’ve never been hidden; that I’ve been as easy to read as the morning paper. You cannot fathom how this news pushed me off my rocker. I explained to my friend that me with my feelings exposed (with my girlie parts showing) is like going into battle without armor. I feel so vulnerable and open to attack. He explained it to me this way (here’s where we get to the Batman reference).
When the Justice League goes into battle with a bad guy, whose out front? Superman.
Why? Because he’s built for combat. He can take a really big hit and keep on going. Batman on the other hand, no less powerful in his own right, is usually somewhere else using his unique gifts to save the day. Not to say that Superman is only good in combat, we all know he can do a lot of other things. But Batman is no joke when he’s pulling shit off that utility belt or figuring out how to prevent the bombs from exploding. Not to mention, Batman gets the sexier outfit, the sweetest car (not feeling the latest incarnation of the Batmobile but Christian Bale is hot so I don’t care what he drives when he’s in the bat suit), and other toys that frankly, remind me of me and my toy box (totally different post).
Anyway, my friend made me see that my girlie side is the Batman of the Justice League that makes up my personalities which in turn make me the woman I am. Get it? So, instead of trying to keep Batman or in my case, my femininity, locked away in the Batcave, I must embrace it and use it to my advantage. I have to give it the acceptance I’ve so long wanted from others. And in doing so, give her (all aspects of my personality are female, d’uh) the room to be who she is and allow her space to express herself. I’m preparing for the open stares, the good-natured (and I hope very short-lived) ribbing I’m going to get from the guys who’ve known me all this time, and the out-right shock when I start showing up more often with a purse on my shoulder that just so happens to match my shoes. Or when I opt for a dress with softer touches on it because I really do like the way it looks. Did I mention I haven’t bought a pair of sneakers in over two years? Yeah, I’m still in shock over that one. But I digress. I’m not going to deny any more of who I am. I am going to embrace, love, accept and express all of it.
What on earth has any of this to do with my writing? Well, not a lot specifically other than to prompt this post and lend fodder to my muse as he stimulates me through the writing of my current WIP. Which by the way I came up with this really cool section –
Two o’clock in the morning. It’s his night off, but he can’t sleep. His cell phone surprises him with its insect like chirping. Only bad news rings a phone at this time of the morning. He braces when he answers it, expecting to hear the worst.
“Mike.” He can barely make out his whispered name.
“This is Officer Rawlins.”
“Mike. I…its Cait…”
“Caitlyn? What’s happened? I can barely hear you.” He was right, this is bad news. Something’s happened to her. And he wasn’t there to protect her, again his brain reminds him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” A soft click tells him she’s hung up. The sound barely fades from his ear before he jumps from the bed, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and a tee-shirt randomly snatched from a drawer. He checks his gun on the way out to the garage, stuffing it into the holster on the side of his car seat. He barely misses
Okay, so it’s not a Dodge Challenger…still pretty cool eh?
the bottom of the garage door he’s so impatient for it to open. He hits the street at a good clip, grateful there isn’t any traffic on his side street. The main thoroughfares are a true test though. He is pushing every speed limit he dares, but public safety still takes precedent and he avoids running any red lights. He’ll need to replace the tires and breaks, and quite possibly the clutch, on his Dodge Challenger SRT8 392.
Much like the first time he ever knocked on her door, his fist creates quite a solid sound. His relief as he hears the locks disengaging is overwhelming. The door opens to her haggard face. She’s aged since he first met her. Slim streaks of grey now appear in what was the solid black of her shoulder length locks. A lack of sleep has stripped the sparkle from her brown eyes while crying has left the whites of her eyes a faded red. Her appearance startles him.
She’s stepping backwards, allowing him to enter the room, closing the door behind him. She reaches out a shaky hand, motioning for him to put the locks back in place. He does so as she retreats to her corner of the couch. Without any words, she curls up in her cocoon of blanket, cat, pillow and gun and almost immediately falls asleep. Mike turns off all but one lamp on the far side of the room, then joins the mass, lending that last large protective layer.
I am so hoping for THAT guy to walk out of my imagination and meet me on the dance floor while I’m in London this summer at the Olympics. 
. Come to think of it, they’re all one in the same, the heroes in my fiction, the man I’m dreaming of…hmmmm.
Oh, and check this out, speaking of writing (and then I’ll let you get back to what you were doing). My (virtual) 30 Days in London prompted an actual book idea. I am on a roll.
Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog surfing. Thanks as always, for stopping by.
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