Tag: writing

the magic quadrant…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

When I logged on to my WordPress account today to lay out a few small words within this often neglected space I saw the words Magic Quadrant. Magic Quadrant... As I quickly clicked through the pages my brain took in those words just as the screen changed. I quickly assumed it was in relation to some WP-related workshop or other, but honestly, I don’t know.

Clearly, I found the words intriguing. Suddenly what I had expected to fill these lines with had floated away–my mind instead consumed with Magic Quadrant.

A quick consult with Alexa tells me that this is a series of market research reports published by IT consulting firm Gartner that involve some sort of data analysis regarding marketing… this point in her delivery of the information I requested is when my eyes glazed over and my ears filled with music similar to that of the Academy Awards when they are rudely trying to get winners to stop talking. It seems as though a group of people pulling together reports on data of any sort would come up with a better name than Magic Quadrant.

Magic Quadrant sounds to me like a sweet spot. And maybe, in laymen’s terms, that’s what we’re talking about here.

I get certain aspects of marketing. I understand, with someone who has something to sell, I need to identify my ideal customer and decipher what the need they have is, so I can meet it. I get all of that… But then, other people just like me are talking about SEO words and I’ll be honest: Cue glazed eyes and Oscar orchestra because I’m done.

I want to be the author who tells the truth about life–my life, and life happening all around me. I want to share not the dry data of events, but how they feel and why they matter. I want to focus on the power of story, the power of healing, the power of empathy, rest, genuine self-care, and acting love. I don’t want to craft posts around trending words that bring people to this space. I don’t want to conform my writing to what is attracting the most buzz. I want this space to be a quiet, restful space where those who come here know they will be safe to read, process, and might just leave with something that balms something in them which burned a little before they got here.

The true Magic Quadrant.

My way feels a little less dirty, although the other way isn’t at all dirty either, it just doesn’t feel like me.

This may be why I’ll probably never be a best-seller or make it onto many book lists. I think I’ve had to grow to the point where I’m ok with that. Early on writers are taught to want one of the big publishing houses to buy their book, and to dream of the NYT bestseller list… For a long, long time those were the things I believed I wanted too, because these were the things I was taught to chase if I wanted to be a writer.

I no longer want those things.

Whether it is five or five-hundred thousand people who read my blog, listen to my show, or buy my book, I want it to matter. I want it to feel like a genuine moment of intimacy followed by a good friend wrapping a blanket around their shoulder and reassuring them–There there… You’re ok, and even when it doesn’t feel like it you’re not alone. This space is safe and warm, real and connected…

It turns out my magical space is far more fairy-twinkle lights, steaming mugs of tea, and cozy blankets than the data would allow, and I this feels right for me.

late-night listening…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

With the hum of the heater and tick-tick of the clock, the late-night hours bring me solace. It isn’t just that the daylight moments hold such noise and chaos, but gently so the darkness blankets in comfort.

On this Sunday evening, long after the last meeting has wrapped and my planner pages for Monday have been scribbled in, I listen. Fine-tuning my ears to the outside-winter sounds of wind howling its ice-laden breath. I press play on a few Marco Polo messages that I managed to neglect in the business of recent days, listening to voices saying things that suddenly matter to me because they matter to those speaking. What a genuine gift it is to have another soul spend their time telling you things–letting you into their moments…

One of the many things we often take for granted.

Though I usually avoid social media on Sundays, I popped on to Instagram to check in– to see… Immediately my feed illuminates with news of Jen Hatmaker’s new man and once again, I care because she cares. While I have immense admiration for the transparency with which she shares of herself, her life, and her journey–I do not know her personally. We are not friends, (though a girl can dream, and one day maybe…) but in the same ways that this empathetic heart has held grief for the wounds she’s been through in recent years, and the absolutely disgusting way many in the public have passed judgment on her for– of course, I pause to hold space for this happy news and to celebrate. And really, what a genuine gift it is to have this woman share pieces of her life with total strangers in such a raw and engaging way…

One of the many things we often take for granted.

I told a friend this evening, that I spent my entire Sunday in my dino pajamas. I drank coffee in them, played video games, napped, watched Killing Eve beside my husband, ate gooey grilled cheese sandwiches, and completed dozens of pages of a work project all from the comfort of my dinosaur pajamas, feet clad in pink bunny slippers.

As empty-nesters, dinners seldom hold the fanfare they once did. The weekends tend to be the least organized on this front. This afternoon we had a conversation about Sunday’s dinner:

“Do we even bother? Do we want dinner?”

“What did we do for dinner last Sunday? Oh… the Super Bowl? Was that only a week ago? Wow. This has been a LONG week.”

“Are you even hungry? Am I? It’s 5:30 now. Is it too late to take a nap? I think I need a nap.”

As a young adult dreaming of my someday, real grown-up life of luxury, this wasn’t quite how I meant it… And yet, here I am. Luxury at its finest.

Late naps, comfortable pajamas, working from home, setting my own hours, having dinner options, and leisurely ways to pass the time with this man I love… Mmmhmmm. Many, many of the things I’ve often taken for granted.

Listening…

I listen to the hum of the universe around me, orchestrated in tones of inner ear ringing, furnace hums, electricity songs–all conducted by the late-night silence.

In a few months, these same hours will hold sounds of insects, crickets, and sticky-warm nightlife. I’ll likely feel equal parts grateful for the track change and nostalgic for the winter solace that was.

Whatever we’re doing, wherever we are, there’s always something pleading for us to listen. Beneath the dialogue and actual words, the rhythm of detail is awaiting our attention. For us to notice, for us to see… What have I been missing, in the rush of busy?

What about tomorrow, when the sun ushers in schedules, phone calls, meetings, and responsibilities?

May we remember to seek pause, even in the chaos. To pay attention, and hold tight to these moments that we’ve grown so accustomed to taking for granted.

On being very, very afraid…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay7 Comments

Fear is like a cancer.

There can be one big, debilitating fear that cripples you or I to the point of inaction. As long as that inaction remains in effect though, the fear will spread and become other forms and types of all-consuming fear. A fear of failure can morph into an overwhelming anxiety of rejection. Very seldom do we hear of an agoraphobic sufferer who just woke up one day and could no longer leave their home. No. It’s slowly consuming.

As a writer I once feared failure. I once feared writing a book and attempting publication with query letters not leading to anything positive. This was such a consuming fear that when I finished my first book 9 years ago, I set the ridiculous goal of mailing out 25 query letters. I mailed off my 25 queries and of those queries I got 12 rejection “letters” back. (I say “letters” because if you’ve never had the privilege of receiving one, they are the most impersonal wastes of postage out there. over half of them were just strips of paper with a sentence typed out that said “not interested.” I have to believe when the very system began, it had a bigger point than that, but I digress…)

In regards to my first book, it was written from a passionate place. While fiction, it was inspired by the lives of the women in my family and when my grandmother passed away in 2006 and I made the personal decision that I’d rather keep that work tucked away and private, within our family, for now anyway. It worked out better, and I am grateful for the hindsight.

I no longer fear rejection, in that way. I personally believe the publishing industry is a broken and biased system so this is partly why… but the other reason is because, technically speaking I “failed” that ridiculous self-imposed goal, and I survived intact. I’m still alive and no parts of the world seemed to be disastrously affected by my failure so I realized it wasn’t a big deal.

Fear never really goes away though, like I said, Fear is like a cancer. Even once I’ve conquered one, I still need to keep myself in check because there are others. New ones that will creep up and my writing is where I’ll be incredibly vulnerable because this is my life’s work.

I finished my second book awhile ago. I say finished because it is written, from beginning to end. It also needs some revisions and I just can’t bring myself to look at it, so I’ve put it away for a while to work on another project. It is fiction, and a very personal story for me. I fear that it won’t be loved. I fear that it will be mediocre. Sometimes I get caught up in the harsh criticisms and judgements that people hide behind, online, and it terrifies me to put my work in their hands… And so I remember wise words from long ago that urge me to allow fear to motivate me, and I think “I can do that…” And I imagine fear motivating me to make this project that much better, but I also realistically embrace the inevitable- that it will happen and I have to be ok with that and not care.

As a young girl I knew my life was to write stories and words that would touch or inspire other people. As I grew, I knew that I had stories in my heart that others could relate to, and that could help them with their own hurts. This means everything to be but this hurdle between the place of fear and the having leaped- I just do not know how to get there…

So I worry the fear-cancer spreads. And sometimes I just look away and ignore my projects. And most days I dream of a boldness that has to exist somewhere deep inside of me, I just need to figure out how to harness and mount it so that I won’t be so afraid anymore…

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Slow learning, since 1976…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay6 Comments

What I’ve learned in May is kind of a tricky topic. I feel it’s likely, on any given day, that I could have a varying degree of answers. One day I’d tell you that I learned to master the most amazing sandwich recipe, the next I’d cry into my sourdough bread and tell you how I’ve learned nothing and I’m a huge failure, doomed to repeat the same disastrous mistakes day after day.

I live with a fifteen year old girl, who is the barometer of our house. I’ve learned this.

I kind of, sort of, pretty much, definitely hate it. {learned that too.}

In all seriousness, it’s been a tough month. My instinct is to lay it all out for you and prove to you that I’m a failure as a wife, mother, writer and _________ (insert every other area here), but the truth is, I’ve learned the damage thinking such things can do. While yes, it has become painstakingly clear that I am not an awesome mom because apparently awesome moms have their stuff figured it by now, I have learned that I daily become more and more of the person I’m destined to be. Labeling all of my steps along this journey, until this moment, as failure only sounds spoiled and ungrateful.

I already knew I didn’t want to be that…

I’ve learned that love is patient. Most of us know that. It’s something ingrained into our brains and yet, I’m only really starting to understand what that truly means. I’ve learned that saying “no” to the stuff we should say no to is tough, and saying “yes” to the stuff we should agree to is even tougher. This realization hit me like a Mack truck to the face, and I still think it sucks, but something about knowing it helps me when I’m faced with the question and that’s a good thing.

I’ve learned that intentional dating is an awesome thing to do with my husband, but sometimes life is heavy and hard and we just need to escape and zone out at the movies together. Feeling guilty for that isn’t healthy.

I tried to learn to make fried chicken again. (the last time was 20 years ago.) I will not try again. I realize there is nothing healthy about fried chicken but I grew up on fried chicken picnics and Chw grew up on Sunday fried chicken dinners. Nostalgia inspired me to try it again. I did learn that I’m a really great cook, when it comes to some things, and fried chicken is not one of them. I am ok with this…

Regarding writing, and working from home, May has been quite an educational month. I’ve learned I work better when I’m working. Novel concept, (no pun intended) I know. It’s that simply, though, so I’ve begun scheduling my hours and it works like a dream. Because it’s the end of the school year oddness, a few things have been tweaked, but it’s been a pretty great and I’ve been more productive and taken more steps forward this month than I have in well over a year.

It all falls under the same lesson though, one I think that I’ve been learning since I was seven years old… That’s the lesson of grace. Grace for myself, grace for others… I’ll wake up and need to learn it again tomorrow. I think I’m stuck in my own version of Groundhog Day over here…