Recommitted

I don't have studies to back it up, but my opinion is that, in most cases, a relationship works best when there is genuine, serious, and heartfelt commitment involved.  I don't know - is that common sense?  Do we even need studies to prove that?

With that in mind, I'm realizing that there is a particular relationship in my life that is not working, that is less-than-healthy.  It's time to commit, time to confess my love and show it through my actions.  

How can I call myself a writer if it's something I do only when it's convenient?  I mean, when you're a parent, you're a parent 24/7, asleep or awake.  You've made a decision to care for a child - or several children.  There are times when other people help you, but you don't stop being a parent.  When you're a spouse, it's the same thing.  You've committed to this other human being, and even if you don't like him or her very much, you're still married, and hopefully things will get better.  When you're a person of faith - any faith - you've decided to adopt a set of beliefs or principles, and you plan to stick by them, regardless of what people think of you.  When you're an athlete, you're always thinking about how to improve your performance, even if it's the off-season.

So why have I been treating writing so casually?  It isn't about time, not really, because we do make time for that which is important to us.  Plus, if I cut back on Instagram even a little bit per day, and replace that time with writing, I'll have written the next Great American Novel in, oh, maybe a month.  It's not about talent, because in-the-business people I trust - not just my "buddies" - have affirmed that I am a good writer.  It's not about ideas, because I have storylines for three major novels running through my head at any given time, and I can churn out a short skit for my teenage actors in just a day or two - there is no shortage of ideas for church groups, believe it or not (I mean, the Bible is pretty beefy source material).

Sooo, what is it?

It's with a measure of shame that I admit it's my fear.  Fear of failure.  Of not completing these books that are constantly - CONSTANTLY - rolling around in my head.  Of completing them and being unable to submit them to an editor.  Of submitting them and being rejected for publishing.  Of being published and then overwhelmingly negatively reviewed.  Of writing subject material too "religious" for non-Christians and too "secular" for Christians (I feature Christian themes and characters in my work, and I even my more mature themes are still family-friendly, but I would not consider my work appropriate for Tyndale or Zondervan).  Of being thought of as unoriginal.  Or "churchy".  Or too romantic.  Or too realistic. Or too flowery.  Or too boring.  Or too obvious.  

Now that these fears are out of my head, they don't seem too different than any others.  We hesitate to tell others how we feel because we're afraid we might be rebuffed.  That the other person wants to just "be friends".  We are afraid to ask our bosses for raises because we might be told "no" - and then we'll question our own value and worth.  We are afraid to parent our children, rather than befriend them, because we don't want to be seen as "mean".

So, ultimately, that means that my fear of failure is no different than anyone else's, and I just need to suck it up and dive in.  I need to re-evaluate my relationship with writing.  I'm not happy with  our infrequent but passionate trysts.  Seeing each other once or twice a week isn't really healthy for a couple; so why should I think writing once or twice a week would work for me?  

Dear Writing,

It's not that there is someone else.  You're still the only hobby for me.  I've just let things get in our way lately, and I'm sorry if you've felt neglected.  You're still a source of joy for me, something I dearly love.  I've let life and stupid things like clickbait articles get in the way of us being together, and I promise that I'm working to change that.  I won't be afraid of you anymore.  You were given to me as a gift. You help me see things more clearly; you help me organize my own thoughts.  You let me live a hundred different lives, and re-imagine my own past.  I appreciate that you've never left me and always been waiting for me to keep my promises to you, and it doesn't matter if you and I ever make money; let's just stay together.  For the long haul.

Yours forever,

Rebecca L. Godlove

Understanding Your Introverted Female Writer Friend

We're the ones that you can't fully comprehend.  Why in the name of all things holy would we decline a Saturday night party in favor of sitting at home with microwave popcorn and Netflix?  

Because people exhaust us, generally.  And because we prefer the ones living inside our own heads.

We are the ones driving to and from work, or school, or the grocery store, listening to the radio and applying the songs to scenes in the movie-versions of our manuscripts.  

We work out and choreograph fight scenes in our mind.

We have the capacity to be incredibly kind and conversational to the cashier at Target but only for like four minutes and then we want to be done with people.

We remember you as you were when you inspired us to create a character based on you.  Not how you are today.  Which may be very, very different.

We think about writing fanfic, or we have written fanfic, and we wonder if it damages our ability to be taken seriously as writers.

We see ads in fashion magazines and create entire backstories for the people featured in the images.

We play dress-up in the mirror, carefully applying lipstick we may never wear in public, to get into our characters' heads.

We sometimes loathe selfies but we hope that ours - the ones we do take - make us look both pretty and pensive.  Smart is sexy.

We're in multiple fandoms and we do not take issue with people who like both "Star Trek" and "Star Wars" but for God's sake, people, don't confuse one with the other.

When we are not actively working on a story, we are dreaming up situations for our characters, playing with their histories and their futures.  We are listening to playlists we have created for them, trying to get to know them well enough to do them justice in print.

We like coffee.  And cats.

If you give us coffee and cats, we might put you in a book.

As a nice person.  Like, the hero.









...or maybe this is all just me.

Like a Diamond

I have had to start thinking of this blog as sort of a diamond.

Not for its great value or rarity, but for its multi-faceted nature.  I've been struggling with the idea of it being purely a spiritual blog.  Or purely a cooking blog.  Or purely a blog about home and family.  For example,  I have such great respect for the Christian newsletters and messages that have emerged from great ministries; the writers somehow manage to see an opportunity for spiritual growth in every seemingly mundane experience.  I, however, simply write about how much centipedes scare me, and how much I like avocados.   But I love Jesus, too, and I try to live my life as a person who pleases my Lord.

Does that mean I can't write when I have been given bad customer service?  What about when I have made the foolish choice to give my husband the silent treatment because he did something that upset me?  Or when I have struggles at work and feel like I am failing?  What about when I feel like God is far away from me, and I am just a sinner stumbling in the dark?

I always wanted my words - this blog -  to be an encouragement to others.  If anything I have published has been an excuse for others to give up, get even or choose a negative attitude, then I have not done my job well.

I will continue to write about my studies of the mundane, because to find joy in it is akin to the man who sold his possessions to procure the pearl of great price.  To see diamonds of laughter and hope sparkling in the dust of our daily lives is a treasure indeed.